Home Alone

[pomelo]

Tags to @Draconian !



Dahlia Gray was alone. She stood in the morning drizzle, her clear gray eyes gazing down at a fresh headstone that bore on it the inscription:

Lord Caspian Gray
Lady Helen Gray

It was only the second line that was freshly etched into the stone. The preceding line had been carved some five years earlier. And Dahlia had hoped very much that the following one wouldn't have been chiseled into the stone for some years to come. But life had become hard and unforgiving in Connlaoth. Even here in Uthlyn, a city that had experienced relative calm so far in what was beginning to feel like a neverending war. And when a company of sick and dying soldiers has been brought into the city seeking medical aid, the consumption they brought with them had proved too unforgiving for Helen.

Now Dahlia, who hadn't borne the name of 'Gray' until the summer of her eighteenth year, was the last left to inhabit the family's Uthlyn estate. A smooth, black speckled stone lay not far from where she stood now bearing the name of 'Lord Karol Gray,' though his body - consumed by the war- did not rest beneath it. One day she would, she thought, her eyes glancing over to it, and her name inscribed below her husband's, justa s Helen's was inscribed with hers. That was, if any of this survived the war. One day, God willing, her eldest son would inherit this house, this land, and whatever estate Dahlia could keep together in the intervening years. He was only a boy, only fifteen, but the war and the conscription had taken him away, too. Though there was some hope he might still come back.

And her other children. Her daughter, and youngest son. Would they ever come back? It had been only a matter of months now since she'd sent them away, south to Serendipity, away from Connlaoth, away from the war. Sending them one way had been hard enough. And though she wrote to them every day, Dahlia had no idea what happened to the letters. None came back to Connlaoth from Lily or Riley, and Dahlia could only assume hers likewise did not reach Serendipity. But it was the only thing she could do to protect her children. To protect Kerry's children. The last Grays.

A movement in Dahlia's belly reminded her that, actually, she was not alone. But this was no Gray. She frowned down at herself; she was only just starting to show. Who would this child be, she wondered as she stooped to arrange the lily-of-the-valley she held in her hands on Helen's gravestone. And what would she do with it?

That thought had just creeped into her mind when a sharp bark cut through the gray morning rain. The dog was Milo's, a wiry gray deerhound. But it was far from the only animal wandering the grounds of the small estate. Dahlia Gray might be the only person who lived here, but the small menagerie of animals - domestic and wild - that her children had amassed after the death of their father still roamed the estate. Dahlia couldn't find it in her heart to shoo them away. A tame fox here, a small flock of ducks, rabbits, a rather clever but sociable magpie, a hedgehog, a handful of cats and a handful of others that had stayed after the children had gone.

But the dog's bark caught Dahlia's attention. It was a warning bark. And it was followed, she realized with a chill, by the sound of someones inside the house.

[Draconian]

Fucking Dogs.

Bifrost rolled his eyes, giving it a long hard look and making a hissing sound through his teeth. The dog let out a few more barks, loud ferocious ones, but the animal knew an alpha when it saw one and it quickly quieted down, going down to whereever the hell it slept.

The door hadn't been [/i]open[/i], per say, but it hadn't been locked, which was the same thing, right?

There had been a lady somewhere in the yard and Bifrost nodded to one of his men to wait by the door.

Ready to grab her when she finally came back in.

To introduce himself, of course.

Bifrost wandered the house while the woman was busy doing whatever.

Bartleby would be watching her. Ready to grab her before she left the estate. It wouldn't do well to warn the authorities of what was going on now, would it?

He found a study, books lined the walls and he looked at the dusty desk, frowning at it for a moment before he nodded. This would do.

So he made himself at home while Brendan secured the area and Badden kept watch.

It would work out fine.

There were enough rooms for everyone.

And Bifrost would be more than generous to their guest. Seeing as it was their house now.

A huff from the corner of the room let him know that this was the dogs room and Bifrost frowned, pulling a face before he removed his coat, hanging it on the chair and pulling off the bandanna. A careless toss to the desk and he ruffled his hair, pointed ears poking through the green mane.

"Nice place," He commented aloud, looking about, it would do very well as a base of operations.

[pomelo]

Dahlia paused for a moment longer, drizzle clinging to her dress and to her curly blonde hair. It was probably the maid coming in on her day off, she probably forgot something, she told herself when the dog's bark stopped, but something about it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Dahlia let out a short exhale, stealing herself against - she wasn't sure what - then started towards the house. Dahlia had barely pushed the door open when, from the corner of her eye, she saw someone move. But it was too late; one arm yanked her to the side while a meaty hand clamped over her mouth. Dahlia gave a muffled yell and lashed out, but she wasn't a large woman, and Bartleby was very much a large man. Just once, lashing out, she managed to kick the oaf hard enough that his grasp momentarily loosened. Dahlia nearly broke away, but the intruder recovered quickly, yanking her back to him again. This time, though, his hand clasped around her throat, pinning her against his chess.

"Careful now, missy," he grunted, "wouldn't want to make me hurt you by mistake. Wouldn't nobody be happy with that."

With that, he released his grasp on Dahlia's throat, leaving her gasping for a moment. She twisted around to face the man, who still had a firm hold on her arm. In response to his entreaty, she spit at him. Dahlia was still too surprised to find words. Instead, she was eying up the next way she might lash out at him.

Bartleby, however, was onto her. "Ohhhhh no you don't. Ach, I didn't want t'do this, but yer givin' me little choice." And with that, Dahlia found herself hoisted up off her feet and slung over the strange, large man's shoulder. And now the man was marching her through her own house, as though she were the intruder! It wasn't long before they were in the library and Bartleby unceremoniously back onto her feet.

Dahlia backed quickly away from him, sputtering for a moment like a feral cat that had just been thrown around. That was when she noticed the two weren't alone. There, sitting in her library as though he'd built it himself, was a strange, green-haired man. Calm as he pleased. Dahlia's sharp grey eyes looked between the two, turning herself so her back faced neither. She had a small feeling of reassurance, though, when a wet nose pressed into her hand. Now standing beside his mistress, the wiry deerhound let out a low growl towards the two men. Dahlia spent another moment in silence, visibly composing herself. Then her jaw set, her posture straightened, and her eyes looked bright and defiant at the two men.

"Sorry," she started, voice set and in control.... -ish, "I think you have the wrong address. I didn't send out a casting call for an underbudget production of the Plebian Pirates***." She was silent for a beat, then said firmly, "Get out of my house."


((***You know, the well-known Connlaothian farce about reject pirates trying to make their way on land.))

[Draconian]

Bifrost tucked aside a seal for - which he assumed - making people know where the letters came from. Which would be useful if this lady had any family. Though judging from the empty house there was no one and from the war, it left the ladies vulnerable and Bifrost was just here to help. Really.

He tapped his gloved fingers against the desk and looked up briefly when Bartleby brought in the woman from outside. He was taken aback at how lovely she was - he missed the slight swell of her abdomen - and Bifrost gave her a wide pleasant smile.

"Welcome," He stated, removing his feet from the desk, boots clunking to the ground loudly. The door snuggled in close to his mistress but he didn't bark - Bifrosts violet eyes were on him and the dark was compelled to obey. "Sorry to be rude, terribly rude of us to move in on such short notice - I'm sure you understand..." His voice was soft. Soothing. Another blonde man - looking a bit like Bartleby - walked into the room, holding a bit of parchment.

"Dahlia Gray. Widowed. Three children. One is conscripted and the other two's whereabouts are unknown," His voice was smooth and Bifrost smiled.

"Thank you, Brendan," He looked to the blonde lady, "You know, it's so easy to buy information." A smile and he removed his gloves, catching her jaw in his hand before he turned her head every which way and let go taking a few steps back.

"Now, you have two choices. You can live her with us. No.... Different than roommates. Distant family," He smirked at her, "Perhaps we're engaged," He winked.

"Or," He ran his fingers through his hair and tucked some chunks of dark green behind his pointed ears, "We can put you under those flowers in the garden over there."

[pomelo]

Dahlia Gray. Widowed. Three children.

Dahlia stared. The lie that her husband would be home in only a few hours evaporated before it even reached her lips. Her mouth opened and closed again, jaw setting. But words, for the moment, escaped her. Dahlia was strong and smart and sharp, but she was entirely out of her depth here.

What was going on? Who were these... rag-tag, scruffy men? And what did they want here? Not just to rob her, that was clear. And they knew not only about her, about her dead husband, but about her children. Oldest conscripted. Other two's whereabouts unknown. At least they had escaped. Dahlia felt even the smallest bit of relief at that.

Before she could dwell on that, though, the strange green-haired pirate had grabbed her, turning her jaw this way and that, scrutinizing her like a filly, with his bare grubby hands. Dahlia's eyes met his fiercely, smouldering with anger. And as soon as he released her, she drew her hand back to slap him hard - as hard as she could - across the face.

Engaged indeed.

Her eyes darted to the hulking blonde henchmen, then returned to the green pirate. Dahlia collected herself in that time, standing up straight, chin tilted up, expression defiant. "You don't seriously think that you can march in here and claim my house as your own. I may not have a husband now," she admitted, "but I have six brothers. Three sisters and their husbands," she added in a bit of a lie. She did have three sisters, that was true - four in fact - but the 'and their husbands' was a bit of an exaggeration. Still, Dahlia knew men like this tended to appreciate other men more than women. "As well as a maid who comes six days of the week, a gardener who comes three, and various business contacts in the city. You don't seriously think that you can... What do you even want here?"

[Draconian]

The slap stung.

He felt his sharp teeth cut into the meat inside his mouth and he gavw the woman a bloodied grin. "I do love someone who's fearless," he smiled and licked his teeth, running his thumb along the bead of blood that collected at his lip.

"We just need somewhere to stay for a while. While we plan. And plot. We're... technically bad guys, you see," he pressed his hand tk his chest, "I'm a mage and before i die i intend to make a difference," he folded his arms over his chest and looked Dahlia up and down.

"I assume your husband died in the war?" He chose to ignore the comment about all the people that would be by. Which at least gave him a time frame as to how quickly he would have to sooth ruffled feathers.

[pomelo]

Dahlia met his bloody grin with a sneer. In the back of her head, she was thinking of where Kerry’s old shooting rifle was. She’d moved it from its old display, hidden beneath their - her - bed after her first night alone. Dahlia herself had only ever shot clay pigeons, but she wasn’t too shabby at it, and how different was a clay pigeon from a smirking head? She couldn’t get it now, though. For the moment, she’d have to stay captive audience to this rag-tag band of blonde thugs and their theatrical, scruffy leader.

“‘While we plan. And plot,’” Dahlia repeated mimicking his tone and, in her mind, overly dramatic pause and rolling her eyes. “Are you sure you aren’t a band of disaffected actors? You can ‘intend’ to do whatever you want, but not -”

Dahlia was cut off by his question. And her sharp expression fell, replaced by something cold, and angrier. She was silent for a long moment. “Leave my husband out of this.”

[Draconian]

"Is it the hair?" He finally questioned, grabbing a lock of forest green and bringing it to his face to examine it. "Ill have you know its completely natural,"  seemed a safer subject than her husband. Still fresh? Bifrost didnt actually know too much about the woman.

Just thay besides the hired help, she was mostly alone.

Until them.

"Would it make you feel better if we promised not to hurt you or ruin your house? We're nice vagabonds. I promise."

[pomelo]

Dahlia's gray eyes widened in incredulous anger, then narrowed, her lips pressing for a moment into a tight line.

"I'm sorry," she started, her voice trembling in poorly-controlled anger, "did you ask... would it make me feel better? You're speaking," she continued, her voice rising now, "as though I'm going to permit you to stay here." She paused a beat. "Which I am not."

Behind Dahlia, Bartleby rolled his eyes. "Ach, boss, this is gettin' tiring. Can't we just bung her in one of the rooms fer awhile?"

[Draconian]

Bifrost sent Bartleby a look before he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I know. I know," He bowed to the lovely lady, "I'm sorry to do this to you miss, but you've just got a terribly, terribly contagious illness and must be confined to your rooms. I'm the live in doctor and these men are my traveling companions while you get better."

He pursed his lips, looked to where the front door was (or at least the general area) before he nodded, "Take her to the farthest room from the front, that way if she screams for help no one will know what it is. Ghosts, maybe." Bifrost tried to smile, "We didn't want to keep you a prisoner in your own house, but you leave us no choice. I'm sorry."

And Bartleby scooped Dahlia up in his arms, one arm holding her hands to her side and the other keeping her legs tight together, "We won't forget about you in there though."