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Crash Into Me


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Edward Brollachan

New Year's Day 2019

The ordeal with Parisa had been resolved, and Edward was reminded of tack he had to bear. There was no one to notify, really; where he was going, Dessa could summon him in a moments notice if his presence... or sword... was required. There was nothing for him to pack, and no matters to close, and he headed to the roof of the Manse; the best place to vanish.

In the hallway of the top floor, as he headed to the small, hidden, narrow stairs to the roof, a flash of auburn in an open door caught his eye... He stopped and back to see Kyla sitting in her dark room, reading under a table lamp.

He knocked on the door frame, to get her attention.

"Feasgar math, Kyla... am I disturbin' ye?"
February 01, 2019 04:19 pm


Over the last few weeks, Kyla had settled into life at the Manse, though continued to make trips elsewhere as needed. For the most part, however, she remained with her coven. Strength in numbers, and she quite enjoyed the company of several of them. That was a new and welcome change to her typical way of being.

A polite knock penetrated her attention on the obviously well-loved book. She finished reading the sentence before looking up in time for Edward's greeting.

An instant, soft smile spread across her face. "Dia dhuit, Edward. Never. You are always welcome." Pulling the bookmark from where she'd slid it between pages further in the book, she placed it between the current pages, closed the book, and set it onto the small end table at her elbow next to the large chair.

"Please, come in."
February 01, 2019 04:22 pm

Edward Brollachan

It was the room of a writer and a reader; something that impressed the Scot was to learn new things about those who entered his Unlife. Dark woods dominated the furnishings, along with the bed and the huge, overstuffed chair she was curled up in. There was a scent that permeated the air, but he saw no lit candles, nor incense, nor little bowls of potpourri that the scent suggested. After a moment, he realized it was coming from her, and as he entered the space, he drew a breath. There was an undertone of musk as well. He drew another breath, relishing and memorizing her scent.

"I am soon t'depart on a personal errand. I may be gone for a few days or a week... In my absence, would ye please check on the new lass, Alice. She is a strange but sweet creature, and naive about many things. She is also former coven mate when I served with Julian Montgomery, and though she feigns a fear o'me, she has always relied on m'presence t'feel safe, nae?"
February 01, 2019 04:23 pm


Kyla regarded the tall Scot thoughtfully - really, everyone save for the diminutive Alice was taller than her, but he towered above everyone in the coven except Adonis - and considered asking about the errand. Ultimately, she decided against it. If he decided she needed to know, he’d tell her.

That he’d asked for her to look after their coven mate pleased her. It spoke of a measure of trust, and neither of them gave trust lightly.

“Afraid of you? Imagine that…” A well shaped brow arched, her expression clearly amused.

“She does seem very sweet. Of course, I’d be happy to,” Kyla smiled again, recalling their brief interaction earlier, “In fact, I’ve already promised to have a girl’s night with her. Hair, makeup, nails and the like. Perhaps dancing later.”

Her attention returned to Edward. “I take it you’re on the way out. Would you like a drink before you leave?”
February 01, 2019 04:27 pm

Edward Brollachan

A soft rumble rolled in his chest, and became chuckle at his lips, "Aye, a drink would do,,as long as ye join me..." It was his way to be humorous to break the projected image of dour coldness he knew was a common perception of him.

Entering the room completely, he took the chair at her writing desk, noting the beautiful flowing handwriting of her open journal, but not looking at it long enough to suggest a prying glance.

Turning and sitting to face her chair as she rose to fix drinks, he engaged in some small talk, "May I ask what ye are readin'?"

February 01, 2019 04:28 pm


"If you think I am going to offer you a drink and not have one myself, you are sadly mistaken," Kyla chuckled, "You're in my territory now, love."

Winking, she removed the blanket from her lap and legs, and draped it over the arm of the chair as she stood. Barefooted, across the plush rug she padded to the cabinet housing both a few of her treasures, as well as leaded crystal tumblers and liquor.

"Dante's The Purgatorio. I was reading The Inferno when Parisa arrived and you shook the walls bellowing, and now this." She busied herself selecting an Irish whiskey for herself and, on a hunch, Scotch for him. Both single malt.

"The Paradiso will be next," she stated, handing one of the tumblers to him before curling back into the overstuffed chair. "I took a shot in the dark," her head dipped toward his glass, "I hope you approve."
February 01, 2019 04:30 pm

Edward Brollachan

He could not help but follow her form as she moved. Remembering their encounter in Los Angeles he realized that though she had worn considerably less that night, the darkness had concealed the firmness of her petite figure. She had the body and grace of a dancer, and he found himself admiring her more than he had intended.

When she brought him his drink, her scent wafted ahead of the smokey peat of the whisky, and he caught himself breathing deeply to capture every nuance of her fragrance. "Is this yo'r first readin' of Dante Alighieri's works?"

He wouldn't image so, knowing she had been around for the birth and death of Dante. He wonder if she had met him, as he had briefly in a sojourn through 13th century Tuscany.

February 01, 2019 04:32 pm


Legs tucked up into the chair, she returned the blanket across her lap. It wasn’t cold in the Manse, but it was winter in Paris, and that meant she preferred to be snuggled up, given the lack of fireplace to stretch out in front of.

After she swirled the amber liquid around in the glass and sipped, Kyla shook her head. “I could probably recite the Divine Comedy in its entirety back to you in Italian if you asked me to.” Another chuckle. “But I’ll read it again just because I enjoy it.”

Should he choose to investigate, he would discover the copy was not a translated version. “My original versions were lost years ago. I never did find them. Stolen, maybe.” She shrugged, though she clearly lamented the loss. “And you? You’ve read them?”
February 01, 2019 04:43 pm

Edward Brollachan

"I met him once, Signore Alighieri. It was in Florence, just b'fore the Black Guelphs purge in 1301. He was one of several patrons of Florence I had business with. He showed me one o'his manuscripts, a collective o'poems. A likeable enough man though he had a grim sense o'humor. It wasna until after his death that I read his entire works, and ha'e read them many times since that day t'this, in s’veral languages. Italian is still the best and most faithful rendition. His writin' should be required readin' for statesmen, nae?"

The whisky was good, the conversation sparkling, and the company... beautiful and enchanting. And her scent...

Edward quaffed the drink, and rose to set the empty tumbler on the table by the cabinet.

"We should ha'e another drink and talk some more about Dante and s'ch men when I return..."

February 01, 2019 04:44 pm


Her woodland eyes were afire with interest as Edward spoke of meeting Alighieri himself. Her longing at him having read a manuscript was almost palpable. “I’m jealous, I admit,” she sighed but a smile followed right on its heels. “The dark humor isn’t surprising if you’ve read anything he’s written.”

Another sip, because she’d be staying right where she was.

“Aye, we should, and we will. I look forward to comparing notes.” Hundreds of years of them. So many different experiences to be shared, and from different points of perspective. The prospect delighted her.

When Edward stood, a pregnant silence settled, and on impulse, Kyla reached for his hand. She gave his cool, firm flesh a squeeze. At the same time, her gaze found his. In a moment, she conveyed, or tried to, that she would be there if he asked her to be, for whatever reason.

She blinked and the moment passed, ending as she pulled her hand back. The walls returned, as did the small smile. “Go n-éirí an bóthar leat, Edward. See you soon.”
February 01, 2019 04:47 pm

Edward Brollachan

Standing on the roof, the dark moonless sky was cold, and the stars were bright. Normally he would depart upon closing the roof hatch, but on this night, he was delayed by thoughts which triggered the stream of conscious memories. The task before him was one he had not looked forward to, but had to be done. But there was another distraction, two floors below him. The buidseach, Kyla... he found she was beginning to be in his thoughts more and more, since the encounter in Los Angeles, and just now, on his way here to depart for Scotland.

Was she the reason he had finally decided to undertake his final act of fealty with two women who had meant so much to him? No, he had made that decision before he had met her. Did the promise of possibilities prompt his actions now? No, the New Year had been a decision made months ago. Time enough that perhaps one or both of them would awaken and come to him. But it had not been so. He was sure they looked the same at this moment as they had the last time each of them had set their eyes upon him. Licea's golden eyes, much like his own, that glowed and illuminated his face as his did hers. And Ransom's obsidian pools, which deepened when she was in the throes of vampiric hunting or vampiric passion. So different and yet so much the same. His memories replayed those moments of their eyes, first one then the other...

And then a third pair of eyes emerged from his memories. Forest green flecked with woodland hues, and sparks of gold light sunlight filtering through leaves. Warm eyes and a warm heart behind them. And her scent, her intoxicating scent of herbs and ocean and animal musk... she was a cacophony of sensual stimulation. Edward wondered what her kiss tasted like, as well as other tastes of her.

And he shook his head, pushing those recent memories from his consciousness. A task was before him, a task of loyalty and fealty and release. Tendrils of mist rose from his feet, encircling him, growing thicker and more opaque. while he became translucent. The mist became a cloud that covered and consumed him, then just as suddenly collapsed in a torrent of tumbling fog.

He was gone.
February 01, 2019 08:21 pm


After Edward departed, Kyla picked the book back up and resumed where she left off when he'd knocked. At least, she tried to. Book on her lap, using one hand to flatten the pages, the other cradling the heavy glass tumbler, she read the same line three times before calling it quits. Her thoughts kept wandering to the golden eyed Scot. So, the bookmark was once again used to mark her place, and the book returned to the end table.

She rose from the overstuffed chair and went to her writing desk. From one of the drawers she produced a worn leather sketchbook cover. It came with her back to the chair, where she once again tucked herself into it. Opening the cover revealed the sketchbook itself in addition to a multitude of quality artist's pencils, all of varying softness and hardness; they all served different purposes, from shading to minute details. After selecting and sharpening the appropriate pencil, she began to sketch.

A light, rough frame of the human took shape first, oblong circles to create the proper pose and proportions. Then, the outline of the form, using the faint frame as guidelines. The shape of a man began to appear; the body was strong and lean, even beneath the dark kilt and coat, it was apparent. She completed the details from the boots up, every one of them done in skilled and careful detail. While Kyla didn’t have the eidetic memory of Edward, she managed to capture his somber likeness well. Anyone who’d seen him in person would recognize him on the page.

Without missing a beat, Kyla completed the full body rendering and moved her attention to the blank neighboring page. There, the process began again, but this time instead of a body, it was a pair of hands. They were strong as well, hard and calloused from centuries of hard work and wielding weapons; warriors hands and far from perfect but deliberate in every motion, much like the man. Yet those large hands always handled her, in their brief touches, almost tenderly, as if she was a delicate piece of crystal.

Once she added the finishing touch to the hands, she moved to the space on the page below them. In only a few strokes, it was obvious the next illustration was to be the top part of a nose, eyes, and lower section of a forehead bearing a scar. Like the hands, they belonged to the figure on the other page. The head was turned slightly, not a complete profile view, but the eyes themselves were on her. Even done in shades of grey on white paper, their endless intensity stared back at her. Though the beautiful golden color was missing, they were very much Edward’s eyes, framed by dark lashes, equally dark brows above them.

Work completed, she replaced the last pencil in its holder, picked up the glass of whiskey, and leaned back into the cushioned chair.

Kyla sipped the rich liquor and gazed at her rendition of Edward, wondering what the future held.
February 01, 2019 08:24 pm

Edward Brollachan

Three weeks later

Leaving Dessa's office after introducing Eloise, Edward glided through the corridors of the Manse; suddenly he felt without purpose, aimless, despite the accomplishment of taking what had been an invasion of privacy and turning it into a name to add to the roll call of the Menagerie. There was a book he suddenly wished to read, but it was across the city in his private residence. He made his way through the residential suites to the main grand stairwell into the huge entry foyer. As he approached the hug double doors, they opened as if attended by unseen doormen. Down the steps, still appearing to glide, the tall Scot shifted briefly to mist, his tall form transforming in it's translucence. When the mist dissipated, he was no longer in kilt and trews, but clad in dark leather. He came to his beloved Ducati, black and demonic, parked in the driveway between two of the coven's limousines.

A large hand reached to the bike, and a single digit touched the starter button. The racing motorcycle howled to life and he feathered the throttle a few times to make sure the lubricants in the powerful twin were fully distributed. Edward swung a leather clad leg over the back of the bike, settling onto the narrow padded seat. With a flip of the clutch and a quick shift, he took off, slowly at first, then accelerating briskly towards the exit of the estate grounds.
February 03, 2019 10:34 am


As a general rule, Kyle was not a nosy or pushy woman. The centuries had tempered an otherwise volatile personality, but there were always exceptions. One such exception came about when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the tall, dark figure glide by from a connecting hallway on her way to the kitchen.

She noted Edward’s arrival several days ago and thought to welcome him home, but the markedly somber countenance, more so than what she considered ‘normal’, made her chose to delay it. Today, however, she could no longer ignore that something was… off with the Scot.

So, Kyla did what she probably shouldn’t have and ultimately had no business doing; she followed him. After swirling a coat around her slender form, she followed him out into the near rainy, near freezing Paris evening. He rode away on the Ducati as she slid into the back seat of one of the limousines, murmuring for the driver to follow Edward.

By luck or design, and sheer skill on the driver’s behalf, they managed to keep reasonable track of him, though once or twice she thought they’d lost him. Through the city they went, until finally arriving at 3 Rue Le Nôtre, 16 arrondissement, across the street from the Seine River, in view of the Eiffel Tower itself. The view was spectacular but not what Kyla was interested in.

After pulling over behind the familiar black Ducati, she distractedly told the driver she would call if she needed him, and into the impressive building she went.
February 03, 2019 10:40 am

Edward Brollachan

He partially slipped in and out of mist en route to the west side of Paris, just enough to stay dry from the freezing rain. Along the way he also partially slipped in and out of his memories, staying just aware enough to navigate through traffic. The memories he replayed were of conversations in his past, seemingly random in connection, but always the same theme. Life and Unlife. Survival whilst remaining hidden among the throngs of human prey. He had mastered that skill centuries ago, so well that he no longer needed to kill to feast from the blood of billions of human sheep available to him.

Traffic backed up on the Boulevards des Maréchaux, so he took the exit to Rue Balard and drove the narrow streets to Rue de la Convention to cross the Seine there. Turning north onto the Parc des Rives de Seine, the Eiffel Tower came into hazy view back across the river in the sleet, an automatic landmark that he was close to his private home. Turning left onto the Rue Le Nôtre, Edward U-turned in the middle of the street, and parked on the sidewalk directly in front of the Fernier et Associes building. Shutting down the motor, the hot engine popped and hissed like a quieted dragon and he stepped into the entrance, and went straight to the elevator. Minutes later he was inside his top floor residence, and held the book he had driven to get, Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut. It was a fictional book about immortality and he had read it several times, returning to it again to savor Vonnegut's wry and often warped sense of humor about a subject so few humans... or even supernaturals, truly understood.

Edward started to sit down under the single lamp in the cupola that overlooked the scene across the Seine, when he heard the elevator called to descend. As it was after hours, and on the weekend, he knew that Fernier et Associes were closed, the other occupants of the building who held the floors below. Rising to his feet, Edward carried the book to the door of the apartment, and stood in the small, private elevator landing. The elevator stopped, then after a moment, began to ascend. With bemusement, he watched as the indicator showed the car was passing the floor below. The elevator reached his floor and the door opened to a surprisingly familiar face.

A single eyebrow arched, and he saw the rosy flush of a blush color her cheeks, "Kyla? Dè tha thu a 'dèanamh an seo?"
February 03, 2019 10:42 am
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