LET'S GO'A HUNTING

Snow covers every possible inch of every flat surface in sight, everything is bright and light, a magical sort of charge filling the air as the world is quiet save for the sound of the wind that blows a few loose flakes from trees and roofs. Old oil lamps line the streets desperately trying to stay aglow in the early morning, fighting to melt the snow on their caps. They seem to be succeeding while also adding throws of orange and red glistening glitter fragments across the snow the light of the flames can reach.

It’s almost too peaceful, lulling someone into the false sense that nothing at all is wrong with the world, all is right, merry, and bright. Tis the season for idealistic, romantic blinders. Wet with ice and partially melted snow are posters stuck to the brick of old builds calling for help. Have you seen this person? If you have information, let the police know.

The sad state of the small city stretches on but is easily forgotten when white winter covers it up, pushes it back. It would seem like a kind gesture if not for the fact that a little snow doesn’t stop more disappearances from happening. Whoever, whatever, is stalking the people is immune to the weather. Still, the town marches on in blissful temporary ignorance.

Well, not quite yet. Most people are still tucked away in bed or, if they are awake, won’t be emerging from their homes and small apartments for another hour or so. For now, the mystical scene outside remains untouched.

Until it abruptly isn’t. Two figures walk side-by-side, kicking up snow, trudging through the inches of white fluffy frozen water blanketing the ground. Under their hats, hair that rivals the setting curls and waves, bounces with their gaits, long rabbit-like ears to match poking through strategically cut holes in the material. They’re both bundled up in long black jackets but the cold seems to do more than glance off of them and probably would have the same effect even if they were continuing on in summer clothes.

The dark outfits match the dark tips to their long ears, contrasting them in an intimidating but eye-catching way with the city streets around them, specters stalking the motionless town. Under the layers, past the billowing hair, their sharp piercing ruby eyes nearly glow with all the light being reflected into them from every angle, adding to their otherworldly appeal, making the clinks and jingles from their pockets and bags sound like an entrancing song to lure people in.

Despite how they look or how one could perceive them, the two laugh together, pushing against one another as they walk, even threaten to stop and throw snowballs like children. Before they can get to their games, they stop and walk up the steps to a large, well-kept Victorian house, knocking twice then pushing the door open and making their way inside. The slamming of the door behind them jostles a wooden sign hanging above the entryway, knocking snow off of it, revealing half of an advertisement for a company, just the word “hunters.”

“Oh, Trita, Darcin, good morning.”

In the foyer is a rather ornate marble receptionist desk, main paneling a dark cherry wood and the counter a gray and white marble that comes up to about waist height on the woman of the two entering the building. From behind the marble and wood barricade, a small woman with fiery red hair, pinned an unusually large bun on the top of her head, and reaching deer antlers sits, her outfit a deep emerald green wool pencil skirt with a lighter green long-sleeve shirt tucked into. She wears a matching plaid scarf and even dark green gloves despite the foyer fireplace being close by.

All the green does wonders to draw attention to her pear-colored eyes, eyes that watch them warmly, fondly as their shoes click against the marble floor over to her.

“Good morning, Yvaine. We’re here to drop off the order Dolan and Kvanne placed.”

The woman, Trita, has a smooth lower voice than the deer in front of her, something calming but airing on sensual to it without her really seeming to try.  It’s too quiet to echo in the room but it seems to fill the space, demanding attention.

“Well, she has that. I have the usual. Stopped by the baker this morning and picked up some fresh bagels for all of you.”

The man, Darcin, is no slacker on the standard his sister beside him has set. His voice lacks the sensuality she has but, what it lacks, it makes up for in joyful, inviting warmth. He could make an entire room of people feel like family just by speaking.

With his little statement, he holds up a small brown box tied up with a twine bow, grinning proudly, even more so when he sees how Yvaine smiles the more the scent of fresh-baked bread fills the area.

“You two are here early today, some members of the family are still asleep, but I can check to see if anyone is awake.”

“We just couldn’t sleep, that’s all. Figured we’d start out rounds early.”

Darcin laughs, placing the box down, not even flinching as his sister elbows him. The interaction goes right past Yvaine, mostly due to how quickly Trita snaps her arm into Darcin’s side without even seeming to move and how Darcin doesn’t shift or react.

“So we thought we’d come to our favorite Fox family first. Dolan and Kvanne had a relatively small order this time, just some knives and gunpowder. I’m assuming that means all the hunts are going well?”

The topic of hunting obviously puts a bit of a downward turn on Yvaine’s lips, but it's not surprising, she’s always been the receptionist for the family business, staying as far away from the violence as possible.

“I suppose. No one has been injured recently and none of our stock has taken serious damage, though I’m sure the two of you would be the first to know on that side of things.”

The news has Darcin smiling wide, excitedly looking, ears perking up and hands gripping the box a little tighter, unable to contain his happiness.

“That’s good news, though! It seems like either things are calming down or the family is really becoming the top in the business. Maybe even both. Next thing you know, Fox will be a household name.”

His positive demeanor seems to do the trick, settling the deer at ease, her shoulders relaxing and the smallest shy smile picking her lips back up from a frown, even relinquishing a nod.

“I hope so. Anyways, let me go see just who is awake. Neither Kvanne nor Dolan left money down here on the desk for me to give you so I think that means they were expecting to be able to pay you in person. You can have a seat while I go look.”

She’s up in a heartbeat, walking quickly up one side of the split-double staircase behind her desk, skirt swishing as she climbs and rounds the corner into the hallway. Things fall silent in the foyer for just a moment after the siblings sit on a couch in front of the burning fireplace, but it doesn’t last.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Trita scoffs, folding her arms in front of her chest and crossing her legs, snow falling off of her black boots, melting before it even comes in contact with the floor.

“What? I like to give little hints when I can, it’s fun.”

The smile never leaves Darcin’s face as he watches the flames dance. Their voices never get above a whisper, if you could really even call it that. To anyone outside, it would just look like their lips are moving silently but their sensitive ears don’t really need much more than that to carry on a conversation.

“Little hints. They’re going to find out if you keep doing that and then we’ll be the next hunt that goes well.”

“Really? I thought we were all pretty good friends…”

He seems to be genuinely thrown off by her comment, more visibly upset than he’s been since they left their own house this morning. It makes Trita roll her eyes at his social, trusting nature. In most any situation, it’s obvious he’s the older of the two of them but when it comes to connections and “friendships,” he seems so naïve it’s baffling.

The sound of movement begins on the floor above them, signaling that Yvaine either found someone or multiple people and is attempting to coax them downstairs to greet the visitors, handle business, and to join in enjoying the box of warm treats Darcin has brought. It makes the two siblings smile, stealing glances at each other as the sound of family-life begins to fill the house.

Dolan rubs at his eyes with the back of his sleeve as he starts to descend the creaky old stairs. Hadn't he and Kvanne meant to refinish them last month? Maybe the month before that? Everything had started bleeding over into the next thing for, well, it feels like months now, with the way work has been going. At this rate, there will be more missing persons signs than the town has flat surfaces to display them all.

So the stairs will have to wait.

Dolan has been awake for hours now, just not in terms of dealing with people. At the foot of the stairs, he stretches his shoulders out a little, squints at the lamplight coming sharply in through the windows. Wonders what sort of havoc from last night they'll have to clean up today.

When he peeks around the end of the chunky, ornate curling bannister, he can see into the foyer-turned reception room. The two suppliers are sitting there waiting, chipper looking as ever. The brother, Darcin, holding his customary box of baked goods. Dolan has been trying to figure him out ever since the Foxes started ordering from the Airins, but the guy turns up with his sister nearly immediately after every order, punctual, with a huge smile on his face.

People who are that happy all the time make Dolan lose sleep sometimes. He can't imagine what's going on behind their eyeballs. Sometimes he has a legitimate urge to rip one out and find out, but never with Darcin. There's just more of an uneasy, nagging feeling that tells him he should never be in a room alone with the man, or leave his back turned to him, or maybe he'll hug Dolan to death.

"Kinda early, even for you two?"

Dolan can't manage to sound as spry and awake as Darcin looks, but the sister, Trita- he always feels like maybe there's something more to relate to there. And even if not. Well, there's a lot to look at, at least.

He tries not to eye her up and down, or at least not so obviously, but even if Darcin notices, he doesn't seem to take offense. Trita flicks her ruby colored eyes up at him in a way Dolan can't help but read as a challenge. He thinks he might not mind being left in a room alone with her for a little while.

Kvanne comes bounding down the stairs making a hell of a racket, but somehow still managing to look dapper and proper while doing it, shoulders straight and eyes bright as if he doesn't know wee morning hours from midday.

"We only placed that order a few days ago, wasn't it? You two are always so punctual and we appreciate it."

Even Kvanne's voice sounds like he would bleed something sweet and innocent like apple juice if he was cut in the right spot. Dolan always wondered why his brother didn't do something boring and normal and prestigious like run for mayor or something instead of the shit that they do. But he tries to remind himself that even under the regal exterior, Kvanne's a member of their family all the same. A family that's only ever dealt in blood.

"Ooh, Darcin, is that a toasted cinnamon? You've made my day."

Kvanne pulls a bagel out of the outstretched box and smiles wide as if his face is going on a campaign poster. Dolan rolls his eyes and stays intentionally far enough away to avoid being offered anything for the time being.

"OOH! DON'T LET THEM GO YET. STOP THEM, KEEP THEM THERE-"

There's an unholy thundering sound upstairs that makes Dolan close his eyes, wonder how badly his head would have to hurt before it killed him. He's lived with Shand this long, he supposes, so his tolerance level must only be steadily, but slowly, increasing.

Shand comes barreling down the stairs two at a time. Well, only the first half- he looks like he's about to trip mid way down and knows it, so he grabs onto the bannister and slides the rest of the way down, spilling out at the bottom and pulling himself out of the floor immediately as if this is all just normal procedure.

Kvanne has to step out of the way, albeit in the collected manner in which he does everything in his life, to avoid being rolled into.

"Please take care with the stairs, Shand. This house has been in the family for-"

"Yeah yeah, I️ know, hella long. Got any chocolate chip in there?"

Shand waves Kvanne off but starts rooting through the bagel box while Darcin smiles at him. Dolan doesn't even bother to correct his son for being rude. Clearly they've all done this enough to know how things work.

While Darcin makes small talk with Shand and Kvanne starts rustling through paperwork on the dest to catalogue the order, Dolan gets a moment to lock eyes with Trita. But this time, she's the one looking him up and down, and he may be crazy, he can swear he sees her tongue dart out of her mouth and lick her lip for a split second. Or maybe he's going crazy.

"Shand, wait-"

Yvaine and Luna appear at the top of the staircase together, both with wide-eyed worry before they had even ever seen the man take a spill. They just know to expect it at this point, even minutes before it even happens.

Unlike the proper, business dressed Yvaine, Luna wears all sorts of various little attachments to her work outfit. Her worn leather pants, matching leather vest over a black long-sleeved ruffled shirt, multiple belts, buckles, and straps for holding a countless number of supplies she may need for any given hunting mission, she looks intimidating, a true huntress, despite her ... Stature. Her outfit is near identical to Dolan's, just minus the cut of it and how it fits. The two of them are clearly the main fighters during their assignments.

"Oh! Fengari, I think I have some of the honey-cinnamon cream cheese spread you like. At least I asked for it. We'll see if the baker remembered."

Darcin's face lights up brighter and brighter with each new person that enters the room, quickly working to address them all, work on all their questions and requests. By the time Luna is down the steps, he's managed to hand Shand the chocolate-chip bagel and is working to fish out Luna's spice bagel and spread. When she joins Shand's side, fussing over him, hands on his shoulders and forcing him to face her so she can look him over, Darcin can't help but laugh quietly to himself at the two of them.

It's cute, young love and all of that. It seems wonderful, the two of them make it appear so if nothing else.

Trita shifts her weight, stealing glances at Dolan, slyly at first but the minute the room becomes crowded and people are focused elsewhere, the looks become more obvious. Up and down, across, lingering, enjoying.

Yes, the Fox family is her favorite client. They always have an order, are prompt to place it, and never late on a bill. But there are definitely other perks to working with them. She's noticed this perk since day one all those years ago.

Dolan seems to catch her which just makes her smirk at him, letting him catch a glimpse at her biting her lip. He was doing the same, so she doesn't really feel bad. This is just what they do and she savors every second of it.

"Well, Airin Weapons Service makes it a point to always be early or, at the very least, on time. We have for centuries."

The sound of her brother's statement makes her eyes snap to the back of his white hair-covered head quickly, immediately reaching to open the bag slung over her shoulder and chest.

"That's right. We have the family name to live up to, after all."

She makes quick work of stepping to Darcin's side, casually patting Dolan's arm as she passes to encourage him to join the group, letting her hand rest for just a second longer than normal.

Darcin is still smiling, holding the box of treats open for people to come grab their preferred breakfast at their leisure, not in a rush to go anywhere, ignoring the way his sister "bumps" into him.

"Here we go."

Trita has to pull the boxes of powder and such out of her bag on her own, Darcin happily occupied playing some sort of everyday Santa Claus, stacking them on the counter slow enough for Kvanne to count up the delivery as she does.

"Twenty knives, fifty packs of gunpowder-"

"And bagels."

"- Just like you ordered."

While Luna looks Shand over and straightens him out from his tumble, he pulls open the small container of spread that she's holding off to the side and sticks his fingers in it, pushing them up to her lips so she can taste.

They've always been so ridiculously unashamed about their physical displays of affection, so oblivious to any other people in any room they're in together, the two of them. Dolan shoots Shand a disapproving look. Well, he means it to be disapproving but he knows it comes across more as murderous. He doesn't mind that much if that's how it's taken.

He follows Trita over to the table where she's stacking up the order, and to anyone that's not her, it probably just looks like he's going to examine the products and he does, picking up some of the knives and testing the edges, twirling them around his fingers. That part he's a little less sure comes across as anything but showing off. Maybe the lack of shame runs in the family.

He holds one out horizontally, balances the hilt on top of one finger to test the weight distribution between handle and blade. It hovers, nearly, in perfect balance.

"That'll throw well."

He keeps his eyes on the knives while Kvanne, in between counting the boxes, keeps glancing up at him. Even when he goes to pull out the locked cashbox from the locked desk drawer, he keeps glancing up at Dolan, and then Trita, and then back to Dolan, counting out money without even looking at it.

There's a softer set of footsteps at the top of the stairs, one that descends them much more slowly and less forcefully. Lunath appears eventually in the foyer with the group that grows louder by the second. His eyes are barely open, and he's not acknowledging or speaking to anyone, but his nose is tilted up slightly in the air as if he was called out of bed by the smell of the bagels alone.

Darcin is much taller than his barely teenage frame, but he stretches to make himself seem taller and Darcin subtly lowers the box a little so Lunath can take his pick.

"Can we order cookies next time?"

His voice is quiet and sleepy, but still as emphatic as Lunath knows how to be. Kvanne laughs, only momentarily distracted from his observation of the two at the desk.

"Yeah, I️ like cookies for breakfast. I️ think that's a great idea."

Shand is nodding earnestly while Luna pulls his shirt right, the last of the adjustments, before he feeds her another finger full of the spread. If they keep going like that, she won't have any left for her bagel.

"What is it with you all and sweet stuff first thing in the morning. Like your gullets are lined with candy or some shit."

Dolan murmurs it mostly to himself, but Kvanne looks up and over the wire rim of his work glasses.

"We know you like your coffee as black as your heart, bless it, by the way. But what do you have against bagels, Dolan?"

Kvanne goes so far as to click his tongue condescendingly at his brother as he hands Trita the stack of counted-out cash and goes on signing some of the intake forms, then handing them over for her to sign after him.

"I️ prefer more... substantial things for breakfast. Meat first thing in the morning."

He can't help the way he flicks his eyes back over at Trita and he certainly can't help that she meets his stare and holds it, a grin playing around her beautiful lips.

"Why you don't just go out to dinner already is beyond me."

Kvanne mumbles it quietly enough that no one else hears it or the exasperation in his tone as he finishes up with the paperwork.

Oh, Trita hears Kvanne's comment and the mental image is amusing. She and Dolan, at a table in candlelight, Dolan enjoying his meal in a well-tailored suit, herself in a dress that fits just right, both showing off what they have. Doesn't sound bad, really.

Not that she thinks it'll happen, but it at least seems nice. That sort of lifestyle isn't meant for creatures like her, creatures like Darcin. He's had his own fair share of looks at some pretty, kind women, women that in any other situation Trita may have even approved of for him, but, at the end of the day, they both know what they are and what they are can never really have something like that.

It's a lonely life, but it doesn't mean they have to stop looking at the Lord's wonderful work on display walking around earth like the biggest moving art gallery.

"There's really only one thing I'd like to have for dinner."

Her red eyes flick to Dolan, speaking loud enough for him to hear and match to the obviously suggestive gaze she gives him. It makes her have to really fight herself from laughing at how it makes his eyebrow arch and have to shift restlessly.

"Shand, please..."

Luna tries to intercept his finger by putting the bagel between it and her mouth to savor some of the spread for its actual purpose, why Darcin actually brought it over. It seems to upset Shand that she's refusing him.

She swears, he acts like every little move like that is as if she's denying his feelings entirely... But he looks at her with those eyes, grins that lopsided smile that makes her heart stop and it's all she can do to not just melt right there in front of everyone.

Caving, she lowers the bagel, leaning forward to take the tip of his finger between her lips, swiftly cleaning off his skin, pulling back so her mouth lets out a little pop sound as the suction between them breaks. That really gets him grinning and really gets her blushing, trying to look away from him before she does anything else, drawn in by his stare and attention.

Darcin stares at the two for a moment before breaking his eyes away to focus intently on Lunath, lifting his arm to rest a hand on the teenager's head.

"Well, Kiddo, I don't think the bakery has cookies that early. I guess I could buy them the night before if you really want, but they won't be fresh."

The way Lunath's eyes light up makes Darcin's stomach drop just a bit, threatening to pull his smile down with it. It's at times like this that a different face flashes through his mind, that the past tries to catch up with him the most. The duo used to be a trio and the lack of one among them would make him sick if that were even still possible for him, but there's still the ghost of a feeling there to remind him of his physical reaction to the memory.

All the thoughts rushing back are enough to make Darcin's eyes flick away just for a brief moment to regain his composure, composure that no one but himself and possibly Trita would have even noticed slipped in any way, but he still fights to get it back. He does so with great ease, to be expected after centuries of practice.

"If you get everyone on board with that then the next time Kvanne places an order, tell him to let me know cookies are next."

On his way to look back at Lunath, Darcin's eyes momentarily meet with Kvanne's, giving him a wide grin and nod, more saying that so Kvanne can remember to do what he's saying, not really Lunath.

Kvanne shakes his head good naturedly but nods all the same at Darcin. If anyone in this family is a pushover for the boy, it's most likely Kvanne. But in all the most unexpected ways. They all care for the boy, of course, and when it comes to protecting Lunath or being there to teach him things, Dolan is a good father. Well, it's not always the best things he's teaching him, but he does his best.

So Kvanne usually feels the need to step in with the rest of the equation. Making sure that Lunath doesn't fall behind in his education, that he eats his vegetables at dinner, that he goes to sleep at a reasonable hour. For all intents and purposes, the bad guy, but Kvanne doesn't mind. Especially when sometimes he can make cookies happen instead of bagels.

Shand flops down into the seat Trita had vacated before, pulling gently against the backs of Luna's knees until she's straddled across his lap, kneeling against the seat. He's already scarfed his bagel down and she's dusting a few crumbs from his shirt as he takes hers, pulls the two pieces open and starts slathering the rest of the spread onto both sides for her, messy fingers splayed and trying their best not to drip the sticky stuff all over the floor.

They're settled more or less into a corner now, out of the way thankfully, so Lunath has stopped eying them in a way he's undoubtedly picked up from Kvanne, and has settled on a bagel whose flavor he's not really sure of. But he's held it to his nose and sniffed a few times, and the smell was agreeable.

He takes a huge bite of it, forgetting to chew with his mouth closed, unable to hold back a yawn in the middle of it, looking up at Darcin between bites.

"Are you guys delivering anywhere else today? Does anybody else get bagels? Are we your favorite customers?"

It's clear that he's waking up little by little because the volume of questions is ever growing, and he's barely giving Darcin any time in between to answer.

Kvanne has given up keeping tabs on the conversation between Dolan and Trita, growing more and more intentional and uncomfortable by the moment. He ignores where it seems to be heading and scoops the gunpowder packets up in his carrying crate along with the knives and heads for the supply room to store them.

"Thinking ahead to dinner already?"

Dolan's given up on trying to focus his attention on the knives, figuring it's pointless to try and disguise his focus now.

"I️ would certainly hope that you try to get balanced meals. Nutrition and hydration are pretty important. Especially in any line of work where you have to push your body to its limits."

"You're going to make Lunath's eyes fall out of his head if he has to glare at us any more."

Shand is making an absolute show of a mess as he tries to fix her bagel for her, dripping it down his shirt to the point that Luna gives up on trying to keep up with him. She'll just have to clean him up after he's done because she'll never stop fussing over him if she tries now while he's still busy.

And after they just bought that shirt...

A little determined to help still, she leans down to fully sit on his legs, no longer keeping herself propped up above him, cupping her hands under his to catch any of the spread that may fall through his fingers. Her hands can always be washed but she's not sure this is coming out of his clothes.

"Well, who can say."

Darcin takes a moment to look down at the now nearly empty box in his hands. Something about the sight makes him feel warm, content, stretching his grin just a bit more.

"If I tell you, it's gotta be a secret, 'kay?"

With everyone enjoying their treats... Well, everyone minus Dolan but Darcin has come to, reluctantly, accept that Dolan will never take him up on any kind gesture or gift. It upsets Darcin more than he cares to admit but, at the same time, Dolan seems to be a cautious man and that's smart so there's really no fault to be given.

Anyways, with everyone enjoying the food, Darcin finally finds it acceptable to place the box down on Yvaine's desk to free his hand, ducking his head a bit with a boyish smirk.

"You guys kinda are our favorite and I really only bring you food. Don't go around telling the town. We don't need a riot on our hands."

The way Dolan teases is precious. In her long life, several men have tried to flirt with her but none have caught her attention quite like he has. Maybe that's because Trita has no fear he can back-up his suggestive comments, or maybe it's just him. He's definitely caught her eye since day one.

"I'm well aware of what it takes to keep your body in optimal condition to work long, hard hours all the way into the night. You need to offset substantial protein with slow burning carbs to really keep you going."

Hidden under her thick jacket, her tail switches playfully, her body a little beyond just teasing and making comments and has been for months, but it's not really her call to go beyond this. It's not really anyone's call other than the nature of things, the state of their beings.

"Your advice is cute, but I think you'd be surprised how long I've been around. I know a thing or two. Or a great many, all tied up in a nice little red ribbon."

"All tied up, huh?"

It's uncharacteristic of Dolan to smirk, to flash any sign of amusement or anything less that his normal expression that walks the line between irritated and erratic. But often when he's around Trita, something akin to a smile- a mischievous and somewhat dastardly one, to be fair- just happens to slip out. He's not sure why or for what purpose, but it doesn't seem productive to try and stop it. She usually projects the same look back and, well, it looks good on her.

"Of all the great amounts of profound wisdom you've gathered so far in life, I would think that one of them would be that red ribbon isn't that great of a tying implement. Twisted hemp or nylon. Braided cotton. A nice polypropylene webbing. Rope in general is a much better bet."

His lips twitch a little when he talks to her, and he can't help darting his gaze back up to meet her eyes often to gage her reaction, to watch her face, to see what comes next. She's a surprise, and an unpredictable one at that. Most everything in life is somewhat predictable for someone like Dolan, who is always paying attention to details and working his mind through tactics. But Trita. She's a wildcard.

"He's making everything sexual again. Someone has to stop that man."

Shand is mumbling as he absently keeps trying to spread the creamy stuff onto Luna's bagel while she holds her hands up protectively underneath to keep the mess to a minimum.

She seems to cut her eyes up at Shand as if to tell him that if anyone should stop "that man," his son would maybe be the best candidate. But Shand pauses with the bagel to get across his utmost seriousness and cut his eyes across at her.

"I'd sooner take up residence in the crawl space of this house and become a mole person. So don't even say it."

Lunath is beaming proudly, although truth be told he probably never for a second believed anything contrary to the fact that he and the Fox family were the Airins' favorites. Lunath can get away with that kind of confidence without it coming across as arrogant because, at his tender young age, his gap teeth and freckles and haphazard spikes of hair still messed from sleep are still working in his favor.

He slips his hand in the box that Darcin still holds within Lunath's reach, glancing over at the only people in the room who would stop him or really care. But Dolan is only looking at Trita and Kvanne has come back around the other side of the desk with Yvaine and they're chatting about something to do with the stock room. With some smiles thrown in here and there. So Lunath is practically home free.

He holds his finger to his mouth to let Darcin know this has to be their secret anyway. Darcin's never seemed much like any of the other grown ups, but he figures he can't be too careful either way as he grabs another particularly sugar-laden bagel and tries to stuff it, in its entirety, into his mouth as quickly as possible.

"Where else you guys gotta go today?"

The words come out alongside several crumbs as Lunath tries to keep talking with his mouth overly full, but his brows are furrowed up at Darcin like he's decided he wants to make adult conversation now, ask something like Kvanne or the other grown ups might ask. He even nods a little to himself and perches his little hands on his hips to seem like he's about business, a comical sight given that his cheeks are puffed out from all the food he's hoarding.

"Ah, yes, rope is an option. Irritates the skin but some people seem to be all about that, hm? Even better if it burns?"

There's no one quite like Dolan, for a great many reasons. When had she first heard about him... Five, no, ten years ago? No, it had to have been further back than that, time just blends all together when it never ends. Of course, she can't tell him that. As far as he's aware, and as far as he should probably ever be aware, she just met him four and a half years ago and that's all the history they have.

Though, even just those short years have been... Something else. Was there ever a time they didn't make all these snappy, suggestive, unashamed comments to each other? Was there ever a time when, just like right now, they didn't care that there were and are other people in the room with them?

"But, I believe the best material to be silk. It hugs and cinches, bends and folds, very easy to push around while adjusting, impossible to move once it's knotted, digging and pressing into something. Soft to the touch in a... Teasing sort of way. It keeps everything in place."

If they're going to be here for a moment, Trita may as well make herself more comfortable, right? She slips the tie at her waist open and unbuttons her jacket as if she's too warm now that they've been inside in a warm house for several minutes. This always happens, they always stay at the Fox house longer than they every plan and there's not one Airin sibling to be blamed more than the other. Darcin loves socializing with everyone as much as Trita enjoys flashing well-timed smirks and eyelash fluttering at Dolan.

"Well, I guess at least he isn't making her uncomfortable, right? She seems to be enjoying it just as much."

Luna mumbles, glancing over at the two still standing near the delivery on the desk counter, standing closer than most interacting business representatives ever do or should. The idea of anyone happily flirting with his father makes Shand shift uncomfortably under her, brow furrowed, trying to figure out how in the world anyone could enjoy thinking of Dolan that way.

In all honesty, Luna has never known how to handle Dolan showing interest in someone or anyone showing interest in him. Nearly five years ago, he saw her at that hunters' fair and offered her a job working with his guild, or, as they called it, family. Much to her surprise and despite all speculation, the Foxes were an actual family of vampire hunters, it wasn't just some slightly concerning act they all put on. That said, he was and, in a lot of ways, is still her boss, she was hired to help. She shouldn't care about what he does in his spare time.

But five years is a long time to spend with people like this and, somehow, someway, she found herself integrating into their lives, not just as an employee, but another extension of the family. There's no exact day she can point to for an example of when the changed happened, it was just gradual. Inviting her to join them for dinner, buying random gifts that made them think of her as they traveled, being strong foundations for shaky days. Then, there's Shand who, beyond all comprehension, has confessed to being a little more than fond of her which just so happily meshed with how she had grown to be much more than just fond of him, too. In this regard, in being a part of the family in multiple ways now, she does care about what Dolan does in his spare time. He's really the closest thing she has to a father.

Most women that fling themselves on Dolan are never good enough for him, Luna can tell within the first three minutes of speaking with them. There's something different about Trita, and she's pretty sure Shand can see it as well. The hybrid is smart, witty, respectable, though there is an underlying element of danger to her that no one can really seem to place, something in the way her red eyes shift and scan, focus on your face, read your every smallest change in expression, then move on in satisfaction when she obviously has you figured out. Not to mention she can clearly keep up with all of Dolan's... Suggestions, so much so that even he has to take a second to think of a response or to calm himself down from whatever gutter his mind is digging further into. There's never been another woman like Trita.

"When do you think you can start calling her 'Mom?'"

Darcin lets Lunath snatch another treat before casually flipping the box closed and placing it down on the desk as if nothing had happened, like he's merely doing it because his arms are tired, not because he's an accomplice to a sugar snack swiping.

The poor boy is at this age where he still wants to be... Well, a boy, but he's expected to be a man, or at least start picking up the habits. Even worse, his mind is trying to balance out the shift that it's going through of wanting to be young and youthful but also wanting to seem mature, be taken seriously. Wait, that contradicts what he was just thinking about him being at an age of wanting to be a boy still, doesn't it? Add being at the point of peak of contradictions to the list of why this kid has it rough.

"Well, I think we have more deliveries to run... Maybe. Actually, you guys might be our only stop today. Our second run hasn't come back from their last hunt."

His red eyes snap down to the boy, thinking over his words again, thinking over how that sounds. And it should sound that way, it's exactly how he meant it. But the young Lunath that he met years ago would have never picked up on that, this older Lunath can. There's no reason to unnecessarily terrify him, that was never the intent. So, Darcin backtracks quickly.

"I'm sure they just stopped off in a nearby town. Hunters do that all the time. They're traveling already, so why not do some sightseeing?"

From behind the desk Yvaine clears her voice, gaining Darcin's attention enough to shoot him a grateful smile for the fast add-on.

If she had her way, Lunath would never join the family out on their hunts. The boy isn't her child but he may as well be with how long she's been watching over him, raising him, assisting with his education and general way of life when Kvanne and Dolan can't for whatever reason. He always stays at home with her when they go out and she'd prefer it stay that way.

It doesn't mean she wants him to worry that his family will never come back every time they leave either. It's a fine line to walk to be sure, but she's thankful Darcin seems aware of the importance of it, too.

Lunath folds his arms at Darcin’s quick catch.

"I'm not a baby any more. I know how hunts go. My dad says if they're gone too long it's only because he's having too much fun and he lost track of time. I'm not scared, not of monsters, not of anything."

It comes at jumbled between all the chewed up bagel but despite the full mouth, his childlike face is still determined, stubborn. Seems he's picked up quite a lot from the Fox family. He turns slightly when he catches the sight of Yvaine’s shadow, nods proudly at her as if to confirm that he's got the hang of this adult thing, a smart a functional member of the family just like anyone else. Well, most anyone else.

Shand is still scowling in Dolan's general direction, but he now cuts his disapproving look at Luna also, to a lesser degree.

“Don’t humor him. That's gross. Listen to him, it's gross. The two of them should be ashamed, Or sent to some mental hospital. Where they can be properly ashamed."

Of course, Shand knows as well as anyone that his father has probably never been actually ashamed a day in his life. It's just not in the man’s nature, somehow. So Shand will have to be ashamed enough for both of them, it seems.

He knows Luna has always had a soft spot for his dad. Dolan had been the one, in a random moment of humanity, to create a previously an existing job, an opening in a family that had been more or less closed to outsiders for generations. They'd always found their way around that, especially this iteration of the foxes. Kvanne had insisted on bringing in Yvaine, Dolan on Lunath, Nephele on Thrandr. They more view the additions as conscious and intentional family growth than a break with tradition.

And Shand remembers the day they'd met Luna. She would have never admitted it, but she'd needed a family even more than a job, which is saying something. Even Shand of all people knows how desperate a girl like Luna would have to have been to be registering as a solo hunter, but then again, he hadn't thrown back then how capable she really was. Still, capable or not, it would have been a death sentence that, for all his apparent harshness and coldheartedness, Dolan didn't seem to be alright with.

Shand had noticed her hair first, her eyes second, the way she walked next. Graceful, like she didn't know how to actually walk, just how to float, how to glide. And she'd really listened to him, paid attention. Didn't dismiss him and all his hair brained theories right off, like everyone else.

She'd just fit, so easily. Sometimes it's strange to think of them meeting her at all, of Dolan making her a business proposition, instead of her having just been here all along.

"Silk?"

Dolan lets his eyebrows cock for a moment, that dumb smile refusing to be wiped off his face.

"Much too soft. Forgiving. Doesnt really send the right message, wouldn't you think?”

He's leaning against the side of the desk now, arms folded across his chest, head tilted a little in watching her. Everything she does, says, is some sort of dance. The way she flips her hair back over her shoulder, a smooth and graceful waltz. The way she arches her body as she pulls her jacket off, something spicier. A salsa, a samba.

"I think burning is a much better tease. It's not about comfort."

Sometimes when they go back and forth like this, he swears he sees this thing in her eyes, the same thing in his head, that's clawing to just drop the toying and innuendo and double meaning just barely still hiding behind the ruse of something more proper. Like she would rather just be bare, too.

But how long have they known each other? It's been years now.. And this seems to be their way, the habit that will persist simply because it's comfortable, familiar. The blind adherence to some tradition, some habit for no real reason rattles Dolan's very bones with irritation, but the last thing he'd ever want to do is misread her, make her uncomfortable. So he guesses it'll just go on like this forever.

"Lunath."

Yvaine sighs, smiling at the boy as he puffs up his chest, looks to her for approval. For some reason, he looks to her more for that than he does most people. When he wants to sneak off and pick a flower for Luna, he brings it to Yvaine first, checking that it's okay, pretty, perfect. She doesn't really have the heart to tell him it's not going to happen, Luna seems to be happily existing as part of Shand's world, not to mention the age difference. Besides, it's harmless and cute.

He also loves to show her the grades Kvanne gives him from all their various lessons, beaming at every perfect score. The best part is actually how proud Kvanne gets over the boy's process, how the man stands behind Lunath, smiling to himself then to Yvaine, seeking her approval as well but in a different way. A much different way, like he's trying to prove something, that he's doing... Something. What, she hasn't figured out yet, but she's always willing to give him a nod, to show that she sees how hard he's working, how much he's doing.

Darcin watches how Yvaine's glance lingers on Lunath before flicking to Kvanne at her side. Something about it, something about the closeness of the three, the closeness of Kvanne and Yvaine, warms Darcin, makes him feel happy and full.

Alone.

After a moment of staring, he feels like he's intruding and tears his eyes away, looking back to Luna and Shand on the couch. They're scowling at each other, but not in a way that says they're actually upset with each other, just a small disagreement over something trivial they'll probably forget in five minutes. Maybe some teasing gone wrong, small and unimportant.

"You know, it's funny to hear you of all people talk about being ashamed."

Luna scoops some of the spread that fell from Shand's hand down into her palm up onto her finger just to reach up and smear it across his lips, pressing her lips together to fight back a smile.

"Weren't you just sticking your fingers in my mouth? Oh, aren't you also the one that likes to whisper in my ear when we're in public and bite at my neck just because you know I have a hard time getting over your expertly chosen words and tone? Always trying to get me riled up so we can slip away and have some quality time."

By this point, her voice is soft, low, just for Shand to hear. Love Dolan as she may, that father card is a double-edged sword. He's so very, very protective of her to the point it makes Shand nervous sometimes. Never nervous enough to not try anything, but nervous enough that his eyes glance at his dad from time-to-time when things get openly flirty. She's not about to speak about these things so loudly. Trita may have Dolan distracted at the moment, but it's like he has a sixth sense to Shand and Luna's shenanigans.

"If anything, I think you picked something up from him... Maybe even improved upon it."

Her lips twitch as she slowly keeps losing her will to fight her smirk, now using her nail to drawl little circles and swirls in the frosting-like spread right on Shand's lips.

They think they're being quiet but Darcin can hear all the flirting. Between Kvanne and Yvaine's glances and Shand and Luna's quiet discussion, where else is he supposed to look?

Lord above knows he's not looking over to Dolan and Trita. Whatever his sister decides to do, who she decides to flirt with, is entirely up to her, he swore when they were "younger" that he would never hold her back from something unless he thought it dangerous to her health. In a way, Dolan is extremely dangerous, not just to her, but to Darcin as well. Not that the poor man is even aware of that, but for some reason or another, Trita has taken a liking to him of all people.

It does make Darcin want to laugh more often than not but, mostly, he's just happy to see his sister lively in some way. For more years than he can count, it's just been him and her, closed off, wandering, only really joking or finding enjoyment with each other. Now there's the Fox family, all very welcoming, warm... He can only hope it stays that way for as long as possible.

"So, kiddo, I heard there's another big snow coming soon. Like we need it, just snowed last night... Anyway, you been sledding before? There are some perfect hills right outside town."

Happy for his sister as he is, he'd rather not listen so he turns to look back at the boy.

"Oh, well you've never used silk, have you?"

Trita grins, flipping her jacket open so her hands can find her hips, so she can shift her weight, let the tight black dress pull across her curves at all the right positions. He's watching her, he's thinking beyond the long-sleeved, high-collar outfit, sheer tights, and black heels. He's even thinking beyond the immediate layer under them. It's so obvious in his eyes, he's been hungry for her since the day they met.

There are... Perks to being what she is. A combination of her life-altering transformation with being a hybrid makes her, even Darcin, appear otherworldly in a sense. Not that any person walking the street, nor any member of this hunting family, knows exactly why they all feel drawn into the Airin siblings. They probably chalk it up to charm and charisma. Now that she thinks about it, she and Darcin do kind of both walk around like the personifications of those words, but they've had years to practice.

"Silk can be harsh. But I think you're really missing the benefits of using silk and rope together. Imagine a sore, burned area suddenly getting the softest of touches, the kind that sends chills across the skin. Or imagine getting used to gently caressing and then suddenly the harsh texture of rope begins to dig in, the shock that would give someone. You have to play with sensations, dear. You have to play."

Past those two things, Dolan seems attracted to her at a very base level, right down to instinct. That's something she hasn't been able to place. Why, out of every person he's probably ever met, did he fall to desire upon his very first interaction with her? Not that she's complaining, she enjoys the glances, the mental undressing... Because she's doing it to him too.

Dolan feels himself frowning for the first time during their interaction. Truth be told, he's not sure he has much practice or instinct when it comes to playing. In the sexual or real sense. Despite the seemingly gray nature of his morality, Dolan prefers black and white. Efficient or not. Helpful or not. Successful or not. Closing the distance between point A and point B in the shortest and easiest way possible. With a straight line.

It's a Fox family trait, handed down from God knows which ancestor, but its made its way to them now all the same. Kvanne used to be even worse about it than Dolan. Until Yvaine, that is. That's when things started shifting. Becoming one more subjective, until Kvanne had been completely, in Dolan's terms, whipped.

Dolan knows this verbal teasing is probably a type of play, to be sure, but this is different. This teasing dance- a plodding march with no real destination, no beginning or end- has just ingratiated itself into Dolan's repertoire over the years. Words he can play with. Silk is another thing altogether.

"Hmm. That's not something I'm familiar with."

His voice gets flat and monotone until it seems like maybe this dance is over, jerked to some screeching halt by Dolan's lack of ability to relate. But his eyes are still sparkling with that mischievous sort of challenge.

"You might just have to show me sometime."

Shand is now altogether too distracted to be horrified at his father. He's resorted to staring down into his own lap, where Luna’s encircled him with her knees, his cheeks starting to flush a little at the tickle of her whisper, her breath hitting his ear, the gentle pressure of her finger lingering on his lips.

And to her credit, she's not wrong. He's usually always pushing the envelope, letting her know in the moment just how much he wants her, regardless of the situation or location. They've only ever been on a handful of hunts together, that being the main reason why. With how distracted Shand had managed to make everyone, it had been a toss up as to whether it would be Dolan or the vampires that got to them first.

But now it's tables turned. She does this sometimes, gives him a taste of his own medicine, teasing him to a degree he can't comprehend that he might ever reach when he teases her. But of course, she's right on the other count, too. Out of the two of them, Shand will always be the one most lacking in shame.

So nearly without even thinking first, he parts his lips and flicks his tongue at against her finger, licking at the spread, before sucking her finger right into his mouth, enclosing it in his lips so she doesn't have much of a choice but to let him clean off her finger to his heart's content.

When he does finally pause for some air, releases her finger with a crisp sounding pop of his lips against her skin, he's smirking almost immediately.

"I'd like to think I'm the classier version, though. A little more high end. Suitable to those with much more impeccable tastes."

Kvanne watches his brother flirt with Trita while Lunath gushes to Darcin about planning a sledding trip for them with the whole family. Sometimes it exasperates him that Dolan doesnt have a better sense of what the boy really needs, of how to be a father in the less intuitive moments. But he also knows that neither he nor Dolan had much in the way of anyone to learn from and in terms of growing up too fast, of not understanding these crucial. moments of childhood, maybe Dolan is working with even less than Kvanne is.

So in that sense, Kvanne is thankful that the family is all together, a safety net for each other, the village it sometimes takes to raise a child.. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't know how desperately Yvaine loved children. Beyond children, even, just being a mother. She treats Shand the same as she had when he was small, still happily cuts the crust off his sandwiches and hands lunches off with a smile.

So it makes Kanne feel good to help father the boy, to watch Yvaine parent him in an even more nurturing way. He catches her watching Lunath now, a bystander to the conversation, but still grinning at his gleeful expressions his wide eyes, how his youthful voice gets louder in a way he can barely even control.

He knows she's looking at Lunath, but he wonders what it is she's seeing. Because, times like this, Kvanne sees a different family. One all their own. Children not shared between a whole house of people, but just between the two of them. It would probably be too forward of him to ask, especially here and now. But it does make his heartache to know if it's what she sees too, what she wants too.

That proposition makes Trita arch an eyebrow, tapping one of her fingers on her hip almost impatiently but, really, she's just biding time to read him.

It's... An interesting idea, showing him. Playing with him, teaching him. Not one she dislikes by any means. Actually, she's not sure there's ever been someone she's wanted to educate more than Dolan Fox. She could probably even find a blue silk to match his eyes- No, she should find a red one, one to match hers so that when he's stuck, trapped, at her mercy, he knows exactly who he belongs to in that moment. It would make more sense for him to use blue silk on her.

Maybe she's thinking about this a little too much? He pulls at the collar of his shirt and she swears he flashes her neck a little at her-

No. If he knew what she was, who she was, he wouldn't be talking like this. There would be no teasing, no offer, no playing and toying, no silk, no glances, and touches. He'd look at her with only one thing in mind: Murder. It's not that she blames him so much, it's his job, it's all his family has ever known, but it doesn't make the fact not cut a little bit. It's cut for centuries now. It's why she always wishes Darcin would stop trying to get the two of them involved with towns, meeting people, building relationships. It's not worth it.

"I could show you right now, but you don't seem much for learning at the moment. Stop by my house any time, I'll have a little lesson ready for you."

There's no reason to stop smirking because of her thoughts, because he's stopped smirking. The ruse of her and Darcin's coverup demands not falling into emotions and sways. Trita folds her arms in front of her, ever so casually pushing up her chest, not that it shows any cleavage with the high-collar of it, but it does stretch the fabric.

Luna can't help but blink at him, flinching a little at the loud pop his mouth makes when he finally lets go of her finger, blushing just as Shand had been doing earlier. He seemed like he was going to give a little more resistance than that.

"Classier?"

The word makes her laugh quietly, leaning forward on him so their foreheads press together, snaking her arms around his neck, running her hands up through his hair, letting the strands get wet with his own saliva. When she shakes her head, it forces him to move his with her, even lets her feel his eyebrows raise at her questioning tone.

"Hmmm... You seem more rogue-esque to me, not really classy. Though..."

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, keeping her eyes locked on his mouth, pressing her knees into the outsides of his thighs.

"You could try to convince me otherwise if you don't like that bad boy aesthetic. It's personally my favorite."

Darcin clears his throat, glancing over his shoulder at Dolan and Trita, patting Lunath's head to try to put a polite pause on their conversation.

"Hey, Tri, I think we should get going. Gotta package up more orders for tomorrow."

It's not often that Darcin is the one that cuts their Fox visit short, it's enough to pull Trita's attention from Dolan, turning to her brother, though a bit reluctantly, having been enjoying staring up and down Dolan, making pointed eye contact with his belt.

She furrows her brow silently, only earning a soft smile and shrug from her brother.

"... Yeah, okay. I guess you're right."

With a sigh, she closes her jacket, pulling a receipt out of her pocket to hand over to Yvaine. The little deer takes it, reading over it, eyes widening the further she gets.

"Are... Are prices up since the last delievery?"

"Yeah, with people disappearing left and right, weapons are in high demand but there are also fewer workers to make and package them. "

Darcin pulls a pair of gloves out of his pocket, slipping them on before giving a wave to each Fox member then extending his arm for his sister to take. She loops her arm with his, giving a nod to Kvanne, all business, but one last suggest smirk to Dolan. Not so much all business.

"Let us know if you need anything else. You should come visit us more. We renovated the office space, think you'll all like it."

The casual conversation and offers continue even once they have the door open and are stepping outside.

Luna and Shand are really the only ones in the room so focused elsewhere that they seem to not even notice as the Airins slip out. Lunath goes from pouting over his friends' early exit to an excited, wide-eyed hopeful petition, skipping right over Dolan and going straight to Kvanne.

"Can we all go sledding together, can we, huh? Mr. Darcin said they have to package orders but what about after they're done? Wouldn't it be so much fun?"

Kvanne can't help but smile at Lunath, how he's always so full of joy and energy. Without Lunath, this job, this environment, this house- all would be well near unbearable. Kvanne looks to see if Dolan has any input, never wanting to step on his toes as the boy's father, but he's just staring at the window, subtly craning his neck in the direction the Airins had gone.

"Well, Lunath, I know it snowed but have you finished any school work for the day? I'd imagine you wouldn't be very pleased or proud of yourself if you were to fall behind."

"And if I finish it all? Then can we?"

Lunath is hopping up and down now, bouncing with uncontainable excitement that makes Kvanne want to smile, too.

"I don't see why not."

Lunath lets out a gleeful, triumphant squeal, running and dancing around the room and in between everyone until he loops back around to the stairs and goes on a loud, clunking mad dash up them.

"I'm gonna be done so fast! You'll see!"

"I'll be checking behind you, so still work carefully!"

Kvanne calls up after Lunath, shaking his head. Dolan is still staring at the window, and Kvanne finally sighs at him.

"Don't you think you should tone it down with Trita sometimes, especially in front of Lunath? He's still impressionable."

Dolan turns back to Kvanne in a start, as if he's only how realizing everyone else is still here. Come to think of it, when he'd been talking to Trita, he'd felt sort of like that. It had seemed like Lunath was occupied and amused in talking to Darcin, so he thought it was no harm done. Of course, he knows how strict and up tight Kvanne can be. There's probably nothing to worry about. So his tone is clearly sarcastic and a little mocking when he replies.

"You're always on my back about finding someone and settling down like you. Maybe I'm just trying to follow your admirable example."

Kvanne just huffs and shakes his head. The two brothers are so alike in some ways, but worlds apart in others. And its the worlds apart that often cause all their issues.

Shand's eyes are still locked onto Luna's and hers onto his from where they're pressed together, sharing each other's space. He catches her eyeing his mouth and steals a quick kiss before giving her another quirked up, signature smirk.

"Bad boy aesthetic? You’re the badass here. I know who's packing the big guns out of the two of us, and it sure as hell ain't me.”

He keeps smiling nonetheless, thinking how funny and ironic it is that she appreciates that about him- the bad boy look he has that far exceeds who he really is as a person. She's the one accompanying his dad on duo strike missions to the biggest nests teeming with the angriest, burliest vampires the dead of night has to offer. Shand’s killed before and can if he needs to- he is, after all, a Fox- but he'd rather be here at home researching. Down at the bay crafting another part of the ship he's been building for months. Nerdy stuff.

In fact, they only exist as a couple because Shand had made a clumsy misstep during a mission he hadn't even wanted to go on. He'd been seconds away from more sets of fangs than he could count. But then Luna had swooped in as if he'd been a damsel in distress and her his knight in shining armor. And despite his immortality, the immunity in his blood that would have kept him from turning if bitten, she'd still shrugged and claimed it was the right thing to do to help him.

Yeah, if anyone's the badass, it's her. Shand may have the tattoos, but she has the guts and everything else that makes him absolutely crazy about her.

"Well everyone, you heard about the prices rising."

Kvanne taps the desk to get all their attention again. It's a serious topic and he knows no one will bring it up except for him. He always seems to turn into the bad guy when it comes to the budget.

"Until we hit another few big jobs, take it easy on ammo. You don't need to run through seven rounds close range to take out a vamp family. Dolan."

Dolan scoffs at his brother's pointed accusation, feigning offense.

"I know I don't need to, Kvanne, but it was fun and what I needed was to blow off some steam. Want me to come home wound up next time?"

"If it saves us some money, it’s worth a shot.”

Kvanne mumbles as he pins the receipt to their incoming documentation board. He'd seen Yvaine’s face when she’d read it. Even she's wondering how they're going to make ends meet. He clasps her shoulder gently, offers a soft smile when she looks up at him.

"The Airins have always come through for us. We'll come through for them, don't worry."

"I can't believe you."

As the siblings walk arm-in-arm, Trita slips her hand down towards Darcin's wrist where a sliver of skin is showing, reaching down and pinching him hard between her fingers, enough to make him flinch. It doesn't take too long before he's laughing again, however.

"Dolan, after nearly five years, had just made a rather interesting proposition to me and you take me away before I can decide if he's being serious or not. Thanks."

The street is ever so slightly more alive now, some men out putting the oil lamps to rest, a few women starting their routine and errands, but things are mostly quiet. From a house just a block away a scream can be heard, a cry, tragic, mournful, unfortunately not uncommon lately. They don't need to hear what this small family is sobbing over, the Airins are pretty sure they can take a good guess, but their hybrid ears pick up on everything, sometimes more than they want.

Another missing person, a father that never made it home from work, a piece of him, what's left, found in the snow in front of his office by his boss coming to open shop. Of course, some people trapped in secret affairs can use the state of the world as perfect scapegoats for what they do, but, most of the time, it's just the truth that most become a meal for something hungry, ravenous.

"We need to go hunting."

Darcin, despite all they're hearing, what they're walking by, keeps smiling, pretending what is happening behind the door of the house is private, as it should be. His voice is low. A whisper, something for only his sister to hear.

"I do feel bad, it really did seem like you were having a good time, but I noticed while standing there that I was hungry."

Well, that answers Trita's next question. They're not a hunting family or guild, the council doesn't exactly let vampires come to hunt other vampires. It would be the perfect coverup, but there's also too much risk, to much that could go wrong. That doesn't mean the two don't go tracking down some of their out of control "brethren" in their limited free time.

That's not on the agenda for right now. As odd of a vampire duo as they are, they are still vampires. They still have that longing, that thirst, they've just had centuries to train it, shape it. Vampires aren't the only evil in the world, humans hold their fair share of it, the Airins know better than anyone. It makes them feel a little less guilt about their kills.

"I saw a post up by the police station. A man charged with multiple accounts of rape down near Commerce Street."

Trita keeps looking ahead as their conversation continues. If they had it their way, they would only ever hunt down creatures in the forest, and they do that mostly, but the blood of a deer doesn't satisfy, doesn't fill like the blood of a human, unfortunately. Beyond that, a human gives them far more strength and energy than an animal. It's just the sad truth of their existence.

"Yeah, I saw that, too. It's only one person, we need to find someone else for you."

"Well, rumor has it that he has an accomplice. Has to because he's kidnapped multiple people at once several times. I think we'll be fine on that front."

A majority of the time, they survive with sneaking away into the trees for a late-night hunt, but it all catches up with them until they can no longer ignore what their nature is telling them, how heavy their bodies have become. It's then they scope out the wanted board outside the police station, find the worst offenders, and take off to clear the street of one more source of human crime.

"Alright, lets make our way to Commerce."

"Sounds like a plan."

With that, they quickly alter their path and casually turn into an alley, waiting until they're both covered by its shadow before taking off in a blinding, nearly impossible to see, dash down between buildings, through narrow roads.

Luna flicks her eyes over to Kvanne just briefly, enough to show she's acknowledging him, listening, but then she's right back to focusing on Shand.

"You're the one sporting tattoos- Oh, speaking of. I think you got a new one, didn't you? It was healing the last time we..."

Then her eyes drift to Dolan who is now ever so slightly closer to where they're sitting thanks to his pursuit in watching Trita leave.

"You know. Do you think it's healed enough from me to check up on it?"

Just to make sure he knows exactly what she means, she leans back in to kiss him, mouthing, biting his bottom lip almost immediately, one of her hands sliding down to flick open the collar of his shirt and trace over the edges of a tattoo trying to peak out from under the fabric.

There's nothing Luna loves more than tracing his tattoos in every way she can. Her lips, her tongue, her fingers. It's how it always happens. In the heat of a moment, her mouth makes quick work of redrawing it on his skin, pinching him between her teeth when a design curves a new direction, making him feel it maybe even more than when he first got it etched into him. Then, as he rests on top of her, both sweaty and breathing heavy, but tired and just wanting to sleep forever, melt into each other right there, she takes her finger and lightly goes over them. Even the morning after, she finders herself still working over them, waking him up more often than not as her fingertip and nail travels along his skin.

So, really, when he gets a new tattoo, it feels like just as much a gift for her.

But he's getting worked up under her, she can feel it in multiple ways, the most endearing being how hot his face is getting over it, how he tries to stifle a little warning moan when she flicks her tongue into his mouth. He's very fortunate her hair is as long as it is, veiling their faces from everyone else in the room. It's obvious that the two of them are kissing, but at least no one can see just how much they are.

Yvaine sighs, giving a small, still clearly stressed nod, trying not to let her eyes drift over to the recipe pinned to the board but she can't help it. The number at the bottom keeps jumping out at her, begging to be seen.

"I know, the Airins always deliver, they're nothing but honest with us. Darcin even brings overall this food without asking for compensation, he just wants to. I still can't help but feel bad every time we have to set up a payment plan with them rather than pay in whole."

The paper starts making her stomach knot so she works herself to look back at Kvanne instead, forcing a small smile for him as her shoulders relax under his hands. It's impossible to not feel even slightly better when he's near her, he always has a calming presence, able to thinking through situations rationally, keep his emotions from flaring. He's so much different than she is, she who could cry at the drop of a hat. Why he puts up with her, she may never know, but she's thankful for him at any rate.

"Remember about what they said about that guild down on Main? Set up a payment plan and still hasn't paid their second bill? I don't want to do that to them, the Airin's are so nice and reliable."

Kvanne blows air out through his nose, cocks his eyebrow, not so much dismissing Yvaine as he is dismissing the guild she’s mentioned. One he apparently considers far inferior.

“Their hunters couldn’t kill a vampire if it handed them the stake itself. They just never competently finish any jobs. We don’t have that problem, dear. Just a slight dry spell. And with all the missing persons lately, there’s got to be a break coming soon.”

He takes her hand for good measure, squeezes it lightly before taking the paperwork back up to study the breakdown of prices. He’s not preaching baseless optimism- he knows it will be fine, but he’s certainly also going to be informed so that the next time Dolan loses a throwing knife or wastes ammo, he knows exactly the amount of money’s worth he should be yelling at him.

Dolan stares out the window long after the Airins are no longer in sight. He looks like he’s oblivious to the rest of them and what’s going on in the room, but he’s still listening, hearing the tightness in Kvanne’s voice even as he reassures Yvaine. Sure, the Fox family will pull out of whatever minor setback this is. But until then, its still chipping at Kvanne.

Out of the three brothers, he’s always been the worrier. But not outright. The strong, silent, savior type worrier who will put on a calm and brave face for everyone else while pretending the same problem is tearing him up inside. Dolan can understand the reasoning and the sentiment. He’s no better at sharing his feelings, but that’s just because often he doesn’t understand them well enough to. When he does, they’re simple things like anger and lust and hunger and he never keeps those bottled up or to himself for long.

Which is why he’s the doer of the two. The fixer, the head hunter. And in times like this, what is one to do but just that- hunt?


Dolan cuts his eyes at Shand and Luna and normally, he’d be marching over there to tug at Shand’s ear until the two aren’t touching and are in their own respective personal spaces again. But they’re distracting each other, and for now that may be to his benefit. A regrettably helpful evil.

He catches Kvanne’s puzzled look as he turns toward the stairs, starts ascending them.

“What? You woke me up for bagels. I️ don’t even eat bagels. I’m going to rest up for the next hunt.”

Really, Dolan optimally likes to stay on a night-time schedule. That’s when the majority of the best hunting happens, when it’s most efficient. So most of the time he likes to help himself out by sleeping during the days, flipping his biological clock to give himself a leg up on the competition, most of whom aren’t dedicated enough to become nocturnal all for the sake of the job.

"You fucking monsters-"

A middle-aged, fit man darts down an old nearly abandoned back street, a barely conscious man roughly the same age clinging to his back. Snow kicks up with the movement of their legs and bodies, sweat dripping down their faces despite the intense cold.

No matter how they shout, no help comes. Like most frightened prey, they've backed themselves into a corner, terrible lethal isolation.

Or, maybe it's that the hunters chasing them have herded them to this point with terrifying precision, practiced movements and tactics. The two men probably don't even know the end began the moment they were forced to take one wrong turn.

"Hello there."

A shadow manifests itself in a blur of motion right in front of them. The main man running, keeping them moving forward, plows right into Darcin, who barely flinches, standing as firm as if a buzzing fly had brushed against him while the two being chased fall back.

Darcin look both of them over with a pleasant smile, a smile that would be warm in any other situation. Here, in this scenario, it just seems cruel, amused, enjoying these moments of playing with his food.

"Screw this!"

The still mobile man scrambles to his feet, leaving his partner in the snow, trying to turn a run. Another shadow jumps from the top of a nearby building, shooting to an exterior wall of another building on the opposite side of the street, then immediately pushing off and soaring, crashing into the man trying to flee so hard that there are several audible cracks followed by his pained screams.

Trita's smirk as she kneels over his crumpled form is more obviously dark than her brother's, but their eyes are aglow with that same feral-like hunger as they grab their respective meals.

After a few minutes, the sounds of struggle fall silent, a heavy calm falls back over the street. Unlike younger vampires, not a drop of blood misses their mouths, the snow remains pristine. Other than the frantic tracks dug through the white frozen blanket, no signs of anything out of the usual have stained the scene.

"Sometimes I wonder if we're tainting ourselves with the blood of people like this."

Taking a deep breath like coming up for air, Trita stands, shoving the still warm corpse away, disgusted with it and how it ragdolls into a nearby wall.

"Well, I'd rather eat them than good innocent people- You got a little something..."

Darcin takes a little more care to pick up the carcass in front of him and move it over to its partner, dropping it in the snow next to the other lifeless body. Hands free, he points to the corner of his mouth, signaling Trita to wipe at the corner of her lips, quickly cleaning up a bead of leftover blood.

A high shriek rings out, drawing their attention to the west, towards the opposite of town, flashes of forms moving at lightning speed between buildings invisible to the naked human eye but very obvious to the two siblings that move with that same supernatural velocity.

"... A hunting pack?"

The brother turns fully to watch until the last of the figures zooms past, hunched over like some sort of animal in a human form.

"Yeah. A big one at that. We should probably follow, they're drawn by something."

Their two sets of red eyes connect for a short moment, not even needing to share a nod to know the other is alright with following the group of younger vampires to wherever they're going. Observing and trying to keep others of their kind in line has somehow become part of their job, it keeps their way of living relatively secure. Why should they, centuries old, have to uproot themselves and their comforts because some newborn had to go hunting in the wrong spot?

They turn on their heels and take off in unison, leaving their work behind to be frozen and preserved with no trace of them to lead investigations to their door.

Dolan pauses by the dark mouth of the alleyway, shying away from the street lamp light just enough to check his ammunition supply one last time. Kvanne has been so adamant about the family needing to be more careful. Granted, what he’s doing now is an altogether different type of reckless. But he’ll at least humor Kvanne and make sure he keeps his spent consecrated bullet tally to a minimum.

Dolan tracks vampires constantly. Every time Shand walks past the open door of Dolan’s room, he shakes his head and sighs at the level of obsession that one would think he, if anyone, might understand. Dolan keeps the known locations of all reported groups marked on a wall map with push pins, projects their possible movements based on his educated guesses and hypotheses, with string.

He normally doesn’t go off half-cocked and follow one of his literal string theories. But when even Kvanne is getting worried about funds, Dolan is the last person who could sit still and do nothing. Besides, this is a large group rumored to have taken several important people around town- a few government officials, a few members of the rich old landowning families who hold all the sway. If his projections are right, the payoff will be worth the risk of coming out on such short notice, alone.

He’s doing the very thing he’d always cautioned Luna against when she’d first joined. Right down the list, he’s hitting every cardinal sin for a hunter. He’d snuck out without letting anyone know he was leaving or where he was going. He’d brought only enough supplies to complete the hunt and go straight back home. And he’d done it all on the assumption that he could take out this family group all alone.

He’s done it before, in a pinch. It wasn’t the easiest thing he’s ever done, but it was a repeatable act. He’s Dolan Fox, one of the best vampire hunters in the business. His family has been doing this for centuries. He stopped feeling fear a long time ago.

He presses to the wall as the roundabout the corner and exits the safety of the alleyway, taking in the shrieks echoing off in the distance and calculating speed, velocity, how much time he has.

Enough to load the revolver at his hip with consecrated bullets- where Kvanne goes to get these things blessed is beyond him, and to be honest he’s not sure if he believes some priest somewhere can instantly make a bullet lethal to a vampire when it had been kosher only seconds before. But either way, he’s taken enough chances already tonight without adding a different kill method to the list.

By the time he’s loaded his gun and looked up, something is different. Too quiet. He can hear his heart thumping steadily, always a bad sign, a reminder that if he can hear it, they all can too. He refuses to move, just lets his eyes drift slowly upwards to the rooftops across the dimly lit streets. He can see multiple pairs of eyes glowing, blinking in an animalistic rhythm. There had been shrieks before but there are only low, growling chuckles now as shadows start to amass, like on top of each other as more eyes add in to the mix.

He’s got six bullets loaded and there far, far more than that across from him. Still, he takes careful aim and fires, lodges one right between a pair of those taunting eyes. The night peals with the creature’s high pitched wail, then its silence is overtaken by the distress of the others.

Distress fades into fury as the eyes turn to him again, the shadows move closer. But its slow, despite the monsters’ supernatural speed. Slow and steady, taunting, stalking. Reminding him that runnings no use and all that lies behind him are dead ends.

He spends the next four shots quickly, one after the other, each finding a its target, but each vampire he downs is replaced by another slowly, stealthily creeping towards him.

Its starting to sink in that after the next shot, he’s nearly helpless. Well, if it had been a smaller group, he might have had some luck on his side. He might have had a better chance at winning a hand to hand contest. But there are way too many. Is this several groups joined together, pack hunting? Since when does that happen around here?

His hands aren’t shaking yet. He’s not sure they will. Theres a stone heavy feeling in his stomach but he can’t summon up any fear yet. He’s probably been in this job too long, lost it all along the way. Who’s he kidding, though, he never had any to begin with.

The last shot he fires true again, and it hits the vampire that’s winding around the opening of the alleyway directly across from him. But four more take its place as the creatures descend from the roof and stalk closer and closer to Dolan.

"What are they circling, Cin?"

Trita and Darcin push off of building to building, crossing paths with each other high up in the air, trading places back and forth like a synchronized dance through the city alleys, in time with one another.

"A person more than likely, but it looks like the person is putting up a fight."

"So... That means it's a hunter."

"Yeah, but I don't see any other human."

"A solo hunter."

"Don't solos go out later at night to track down lone vampires, not entire clans?"

"Typically."

"So then why? Is this solo new?"

"Can't be, they've put up too much of a fight against a good amount to be a newbie."

"But an experienced hunter would know the signs of a clan and nest, know to steer clear."

They keep talking and analyzing as they approach, as casual and unbothered as ever. The big question, the hard-hitting one, is if the two of them will intervene. It would be the right thing to do but saving someone means a witness that could possibly give their little secret away, ruin their lives, maybe even get them killed. The safe thing to do would let the foolish human die then take care of the swarming mass of vampires.

Cruel or not, they do have lives they're trying to live. They don't exactly have the luxury to play savior to every crying human they hear. If they want to keep each other safe, a calculated amount of selfish preservation has to be taken.

"Is that..."

Or maybe that would be the case if this were any other human. Their detached observation and commentary of the hunt is cut off as Trita begins to get a better look at the lone human the closer they get to the scene, wind whipping her hair wildly like a white flame as they dark around stories up off the ground, both their sets of ears pressed back by the sheer speed of their movement.

"Dolan Fox?"

Darcin confirms her question, his eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, expression just as confused as the tone of her voice.

If they hadn't known the human, they would have let them die, but their connection to the struggling man seems to spur them both forward, pushing off of the building they're currently at and launching themselves forward like bullets. Trita is the first to make contact, barreling into a row of vampires, shoving them all off to the side, sending them skidding and sliding through the snow, right into a wall, hard enough to make the bricks shake.

One tries to approach her as she picks herself up from the pile of broken, unconscious forms, but Darcin has caught up before anything can happen, grabbing the thing by the back of its neck, twisting his wrist so fast that the creature's neck snaps in split seconds.

By the time they're both cleared, they turn to look at Dolan, at their longtime client, but his form cannot be seen, he's swarmed by the remaining vampires, all pinning him down, no doubt biting at him, trying to devour him.

"Hey!"

Darcin tries shouting but it doesn't draw their attention. Instead, Trita steps up beside her brother, crouching over, hands facing up and fingers curved like claws by her side, legs wide in a ready, fighting stance. A loud animalistic snarl rips through her chest, echoing in the small area. The swarm on Dolan stops and turns, dropping down, growling, hissing, slowing crawling into a fan shape, torn between running and attacking. Darcin mirrors his sister's stance, repeats her intimidating snarl, the two standing their ground, red eyes locking with each remaining opposition.

Words and reasons won't work with a coven like this. The only thing that can reach them is raw, feral, primitive pecking order. The Airins are older, more experienced, their eyes, their scent, their look, the sound of their dark noises says as much. The others have a slight number advantage, but they know they're younger, can't hold a candle to the years the siblings have lived, not to mention that half their pack lay dead at Trita and Darcin's feet already. It's several long minutes of a staredown, of growls exchanged back and forth like wild dog communication, ending with the remaining coven members tucking tail and fleeing.

Not without causing some damage to their would-be prey.

Dolan barely registers the moment they swarm him. One moment he's staring down at his gun as if he can compel it to produce more bullets are sheer force of will, and the next he's on the ground.

Never take your eyes off the target. He knows this. It's one of the first rules you learn as a child, even before training to be a hunter. It's taught so early, ingrained, because it's a matter of life and death.

So Dolan doesn't break visual because of a momentary lapse, or some fright-induced stupidity. He's as calm as ever. He just realizes, in this situation, it doesn't make a difference whether he maintains visual or not. Both scenarios have the same ending.

When you're learning to hunt, they train you to be precise and careful, teach you tips on how to get out of tight situations. What Dolan realizes, concludes as he's looking down at his useless gun in those final seconds, is that no one ever teaches you how to give up and die when you have no other options.

He doesn't get much of a chance to decide how he wants to go about it before the vampires have decided for him, lunging, attacking, piling on top of him until even the pale yellow glow of the moon is capsized in darkness, snarling, fangs. The faint biting metallic scent of his own blood. the sharp pain, the sting deep in his necks the numb, hollow ache that seems to spread out from that spot and gnaw at his bones.

He's still not scared. What other way was he ever going to die to begin with? Certainly nothing peaceful, certainly not old age. But he can feel his heart rate thundering all the same to keep up, to make up for the blood loss. But it's him against more of these ravenous monsters than he can count. He only has so much blood. And his body is losing the fight.

The dizziness sets in as the other sensations, his other senses, start to fade. Even the pain dulls a bit, only enough to make it clear to him that he's only got a small bit of consciousness left. One chomps down onto his leg and he feels his foot twitch in the dirt, but the bite of the fangs feels far off, like he's only partly inhabiting his own body.

There's some commotion off to the side, and some of the vampires on top of him shift their weight, take their immediate attention off of him. But his neck feels stiff, almost paralyzed, and his vision is no more than fuzzy shadows, everything in a strange lifeless gray silhouette that doesn't even make looking worth it.

He figures he probably has a few more minutes tops, so he closes his eyes and lets his mind drift like it wants to, drift back to the house and the family. Lunath will have Kvanne and Yvaine and honestly, it'll probably be better for the kid that way. Shand and Luna have each other, and act like they'll never need much more. Everyone will be fine. Luna will take his place, and the family will go on.

It's a peaceful, hopeful last thought to have. He thinks, with what he's got to work with, it probably could have turned out much worse. But then, all the weight on him disappears, and even with his eyes closed, the black gets brighter. The already far-off noises torn into the most distant echoes.

He opens his eyes and sees a vampire standing over him-is that two of them? Red glowing eyes the only color he can register, the shapes blurry. But he could swear, as everything starts to fade to a final black, that they remind him of someone. And out of everything, that puts a spark of adrenalin, near panic, into his bloodstream before everything fades away.

"That idiot."

Trita nudges the near-corpse of a man with the toe of her shoe, watching his arm roll after the impact. If she had a heart, a physical one, she's sure it would have stopped then picked up in a frenzy. It would be a lie to say there isn't a knot lodged in her throat, that there isn't a sinking feeling of worry and panic settling in as this familiar face, a face she's often stared at a little too long, settles, expression going blank.

But there's no time for that and she knows it.

"Darcin, venom works fast."

It almost hurts to look at him for multiple reasons. It's not like they were a couple but they always felt more than friends, seeing him like this is torture.

But it reminds her of a different time, of a personal experience.

She has to turn to her brother to keep her mind in the present, look to him to be the quick-thinker and mover of the two of them. To his credit, he's always reliable in a pinch.

"I know. We can't take care of him here, a group of vampires that big is going to draw some attention. We have to get him back to the house."

As he speaks, Darcin leans down, pressing his shoulder to Dolan's stomach, arms around his back, heaving him up as if this giant of a man weighs no more than a small stack of papers. A shout can be heard a few streets over, no doubt some small guild caught sight of a fleeing vampire and is about to come examine the scene they left behind. Wordlessly, the siblings run, disappearing into the alleys, into the shadows. Darcin has to make sure he keeps Dolan brace against him, make sure the unnatural speed doesn't cause any more damage, moving ever so slightly slower than his sister out of caution.

It works out because it gives Trita the time she needs to take off, to wind her way through narrow passages and sharp corners to the back door of their house, opening it so fast that the doorknob doesn't even seem to move. Darcin is there in half a second, running through the door, making his way up their ornate marble stairs as Trita locks everything back up.

By the time they get to a guest room, the two are back side-by-side, looking down at the man who barely seems to fit on the bed. There are a few bites, too many to care for all at once, but the worst offender is, stereotypically, on his neck, the veins nearest beginning to darken a deadly looking color of purple.

"He's turning."

Darcin whirls around, running to the opposite side of the room towards a bathroom door, quickly turning over a small cabinet to gather towels, look for some sort of medication. Nothing is going to stop the venom now, it's already in the blood stream... Unless.

"Tri, go ahead and try to suck out the venom that you can. None of this stuff is going to work."

"Me? You have more control than I do, shouldn't it be you?"

Darcin has never accidentally killed someone because he couldn't stop himself. Trita has. This feels like an unnecessary gamble to be making with one of their close connections, with a friend.

As she questions the command, she notices Dolan begin to twitch on the bed, the beginning of the spasms and writhing that comes with the intense pain that transforming causes.

"No because my venom doesn't act as an anti-venom and he's going to need that, too. Just try to drink out what you can and then let your venom do the rest."

There's not much time for her to argue the topic further because Darcin is dashing out of the room in the blink of an eye, going to search the whole house over for some sort of topical medication for the larger wounds. His eyes were stern and focused when he left, meaning he isn't joking. She actually has to do this.

Trying to give herself a moment to collect her thoughts, she leans across the bed and closes a curtain near it, blocking out the world from seeing what's about to happen, stop curious eyes from putting in a new job request to a guild. Maybe even the Foxes.

By this point, Dolan isn't still. He's reaching up at his neck, clawing at the burning sensation around the two puncture wounds, groaning and tossing around, face contorted.

"Hey, hey, don't do that-"

There's no point in trying to talk to him and calm him, he obviously can't hear her, is too caught up in agony, but he's making it near impossible to reach him and help him. They have extremely limited time. Trita snatches up his wrists in her hands, throwing herself up to straddle his stomach and pin his arms down on the pillow near his head, pressing her weight down on him to at least keep his upper half from moving.

He's still rolling his head so she has to forcefully shove her face against his neck, aligning her own fangs up with the preexisting holes in his skin. Then she bites down.

God help her, his blood is warm, tempting, notes of every deep irresistible flavor none of the criminals she and her brother hunt down ever have. It's sweet, spicy, rich, filling all at the same time, it forces a little moan in her throat, some sort of longing she's not felt in centuries, a desire she's been terrified of feeling ever again.

That's only for the first few gulps because then she tastes something foreign, something crashing into her senses to ruin her high, something sharp, bitter, mixing it and ruining perfection. It has to be the other vampire's venom. She hates it. No one else's venom tastes good, that's just the nature of it, but the way it taints this source of utmost perfection makes it taste especially sour today. So she pulls one long mouthful after another, furiously trying to work it out of his system, get back to the pure, untouched experience of his blood.

It takes longer than she anticipates to get all she can, but she feels that familiar warmth rush back over her tongue, the haze slip back through her mind, a chill run up her spine. It even feels like her eyes want to roll back with how good his blood tastes and her lips begin to mouth a little, adjusting herself so she can press her fangs in deeper.

What is she doing?

The realization hits her all at once, eyes flying open, jerking herself back up from his neck abruptly, horrified at just how fast she was drowning in addiction. He's not longer jolting as much under her which is a good sign. The better sign is how the purple hue to his veins quickly begins to lift and dissolve away.

"Well?"

Darcin bursts back into the room, a dark brown bottle of some sort of liquid in his hand. His sudden presense makes Trita pull even further back from Dolan's face, letting go of his wrists, but she stays seated on him just in case she's needed again, though she's not sure she could work herself off of him at the moment.

"I'm not sure..."

"Not surprising."

The brother stands by the bed side, joining his sister in staring down at the pale human intently.

"Hey, Dolan? Can you hear me?"

Dolan’s brain is rolling in fog back and forth between fever and dreams and pain. He can feel his muscles contract, flinch, fighting against this alien thing in his bloodstream that wants to eat him alive.

In the middle of all of it, he opens his eyes once. Just slightly, as wide as he can get them open with the weakness that’s overtaking him. Squinting, he thinks he sees someone on top of him. He can’t feel the weight, all he can feel is the burning, like he’s just run a marathon but like his muscles refuse to relax, just keep burning like they want to reduce themselves to ash.

But there’s someone in top of him. Everything is blurry and he can’t tell who, but they grab his wrists, pin him to stop his thrashing with forceful, demanding strength, then lean in close to his body.

He expects to feel the sting at his neck again, at his throat, another vampire going in for another bite. But there is no extra pain to add to what he’s already feeling. Instead, it feels smooth. Its the feeling of the sound of rushing water, or hands coasting over silk. Silk? Why is he thinking about silk?

The trip around his wrist gets tighter and he can swear he hears whoever this is above him, right at his ear, face pressed to his neck, moan. It makes him shift underneath, especially as the pain starts to subside and dull, like it a making a retreat from his extremities first.

He tries to talk, tries to ask this person what they’re doing, what’s going on, but it comes out as a groan, again as a slight whimper. There are fangs in his neck, he can feel the pinpricks when he tries to move, but there are lips on his skin as well, mouthing and sucking harshly, the warmth and texture of a tongue.

He can feel his breath start to come faster as the pain lessens more and more. He can’t see any straighter yet but his eyelids flutter and there’s a strange feeling he would never have expected to feel right now. His hips jerk a little, trying to relieve the pressure, but his body is still too weak to control itself completely.

His eyelids slip closed again and in the negative space the pain leaves behind, he settles on relishing in this... whatever this other feeling is. His neck arches the opposite way completely on its own, making more room for this person, creature, whatever it is. This doesn’t feel like dying. He’s not sure if it feels wrong or not, but one thing he is sure of: it feels good.

Then his wrists are released quickly, a little roughly, and the person sits up from his neck in a way that makes him think they hadn’t planned to. When the cool air hits his neck again, he realizes his heartbeat isn’t erratic anymore, his lungs are settling back into an easy pattern. He doesn’t feel... dead.

And it doesn’t feel like he’s laying in the alleyway anymore either. Whatever is under him is soft, and it’s dark, like even the moon’s light isn’t allowed here, wherever he is. He opens his eyes and there’s more darkness. It takes a few long moments of blinking, squinting, furrowing his brow before he realizes he’s inside a dark room, curtains drawn.

And that it’s Trita Airin who’s straddling him, sitting on top of him where his pants feel so tight, where he can feel heat rolling off of him. Something knifes at his chest that makes him lose his breath for a moment, choke audibly. It only sets him blinking faster when he sees Darcin’s face looming overtop him as well.

His instincts force him to try to sit up, bolt away, but he’s far too weak for any of that. The force just results in a lot of coughing, grimacing, straining.

“What is... why are you sitting... did you just...?”

He knows Darcin is the one who’s speaking to him, but as his vision starts to focus again, he locks onto Trita’s face, centers in on the droplets of blood that trail from the corner of her lips. That’s his blood, isnt it? He swallows hard, his brain a whirlwind of confusion. But somehow all of this shock still isn’t doing anything to calm him down in the only way he should be right now.

"You were attacked by a clan of vampires while solo hunting. Trita and I found you."

Darcin is trying to continue, acting like Dolan hadn't just ignored him, trying to rush out through the story of the entire scene quickly. If he doesn't, if Dolan's mind tries to fill in pieces on its own before hearing the truth, then the Airin's are in trouble, danger even. Maybe if he's lucky, every other word of what he's saying will stick and that will be enough to keep Dolan from exploding, enraged.

Trita, on the other hand, continues to stare down at Dolan's face, eyes a little wide, pupils a little dilated. She feels a little feral, a little frenzied as the last drops of blood linger on her tongue, pool at the corner of her mouth and then drip down her chin.

Something about seeing his face, his eyes open, reminds her that this isn't some faceless criminal, some third-party removed from her circle of influence who had done some unspeakable wrong. This is Dolan Fox. That realization helps her to calm down.

Swallowing, she clears her throat, reaches up to try to wipe the blood away, though she's sure she just smears it more than anything. But what Darcin is attempting to do, defuse the situation, isn't lost on her.

"You were bitten and turning. I had to bite you where one of them had and try to suck out the venom. I'm sorry if it hurt, but you should be fine now, given a few days of rest."

As she continues to sit on him, she swears she feels something... Feels him. She has to chew on the inside of her cheek at that realization, how he's pressing up against her. There's no getting up now, she's not about to let Darcin see that, so she rocks back, sitting more on Dolan which definitely doesn't help but she tries to make sure everything is as out of sight as possible.

"What were you doing out there alone? You could have been killed. Imagine if Trita and I hadn't found you."

Thankfully, Darcin seems oblivious to it all, focused more on Dolan with a knit brow and concerned stare, earnestly worried about the worst case scenario. What would have happened to the Fox family if Dolan hadn't been found? It would have been chaos, and now as prices are climbing, the economy is tanking and more people are disappearing... The thought makes Darcin's stomach sink just to imagine.

Dolan opens his mouth to reply, to make some defense, but then Trita sits back on him hard and it’s all he can do not to cry out openly. He flinched, grimaced and presses his eyes closed for a long moment to try and collect himself, hoping it comes across as the after-effects or whatever had happened to him.

And... Darcin is right, isnt he? Dolan can barely remember vampires dogpiling on top of him, pressing him into the ground, ripping at his clothes and into his throat. The memory of that is there for sure, and it makes him feel a little cold, taking in Darcin’s last musings of wondering what might have happened if not for their intervention.

But the other memory, the one of someone he now knows was Trita, hovering over him, pressing him down, sucking at his throat and pinning him with her body. That doesn’t make him cold. It brings just a bit of the color back into his ashen face and makes it even harder to lay still with her full weight between his hips.

Why had he been out alone? It comes back quickly, but then he realizes he’s not sure how he can explain to these two that he was out hunting vampires alone to try to pay them for the hunting equipment. His brain is still fuzzy, still not working at full capacity, because that thought makes it spiral down into a whirlwind of questions.

So the Airins are... vampires? How long? What have they been doing getting so close to the Foxes this whole time? How can they in good conscience sell vampire hunting weapons? How much danger is Dolan in right now, alone with the two of them?

Clearly if they wanted him dead, he’d be dead by now. He’d be dead on the street, a light snack for them. Something about the way Trita holds her mouth when she wipes his blood off her face tells him that it would have been a snack she would have very much enjoyed.

He can feel himself twitch under her at that thought and that sends a cold, anxious shiver down his spine. What is happening to him? He’s been raised since birth to fight and kill these creatures, to die doing it if need be. Why aren’t all of these thoughts repulsing him, when they’re actually doing the exact opposite?

He’s embarrassed and knows Trita can feel him under her. THEYVE flirted for years, but nothing like this. And beyond those rudimentary feelings, what is he supposed to do now? Sure the Airins had saved him, but he’s trying to figure out why. If they’ve been hiding this secret from them all, Dolan’s now a loose end. A loose end and an easy meal. Maybe they’d saved him so he’d taste better later?

Why can’t he make the thought of Trita sucking his blood horrify him like it’s supposed to. He’s actively trying and failing.

“I️... so this is, you are...are you going to...”

He can’t get any full sentences out, at this point deciding it’s the most realistic thing to do to just accept that this is still somehow the end of the line for him. But of course, dying with Trita Airin on top of him can’t be the worst way to go, especially for someone in his line of work.

He glances back up at her and the way she’s looking down at him. Her eyes are still even a little blown and something about that makes his lips play at a grin, despite this strange and seemingly bleak situation. He cant form an actual sentence when it matters, but something about the need to flirt with this woman is seared into him and will not be hindered for anything.

“So how’d I️ taste? You look like you might want seconds.”

"Dolan."

Trita hisses, scowling down at him with a firm shake of her head. God, why is that the one thing he can say? As if it wasn't bad enough that he nearly died, that in the process of saving him she actually considered offing him herself and drinking him dry, now he feels the need to tempt multiple situations. In front of her brother, no less.

"No, we're not going to kill you."

Thankfully, Darcin seems to misinterpret everything Dolan is saying, moving past it all.

"We realize that this will probably... Compromise our way of life, but we weren't about to let you die there. Listen, you promise not to speak a word about this, we'll move cities, get as far away as possible, you'll never see us again, but I think the bigger concern here is that you understand how idiotic that was."

His big brother nature seems to be coming in full-swing right now, needing to put the towels and medicine down on a nearby nightstand to free him up enough to cross his arms with the expression of a disapproving father.

That's... True, isn't it? They will have to move after this. The idea of moving stings a little on multiple levels. Now that she's found this addictive source of nutrition, she'll have to let it go. Even worse, all the years of flirting, getting to know each other, all of it for nothing. Even on the most surface level of issues, who can say if the Airin's will have as prosperous a delivery business in a new town? They'll be completely uprooting.

But something about the way Dolan is watching her confuses her greatly. He clearly has a lot to say but they're things he doesn't feel especially inclined to share with Darcin in the room. Is he really so delirious that he wants to flirt with the creature that almost killed him this much?

"Hey, Cin, you should go to the Fox House. Tell Kvanne what happened. Well, as much as you can."

"Hm, you're probably right. Dolan can break the rest to them later if he so chooses. Okay, I'll be back in a bit."

It's weird to just so willingly give up fighting against being exposed, but it wouldn't be the first time. If anything, Trita should take this time to convince Dolan to stay quiet enough for the siblings to relocate too far away for his family to find them.

So once Darcin leaves, she opens up that discussion.

"What... What are you thinking?"