He knocked on the shed door with the back of his hand before opening it; the illusion of politeness and privacy was common for the vampire, "What is it that is so urgent, Samuel?" His tone carried a touch of annoyance...no more than usual though, honestly.
When the shed was opened, it revealed a room stocked to the brim with weapons. It seemed the old man had kept himself busy over the last couple years. The majority of them had gathered a fine layer of dust from his retirement, but that dust was being kicked away as the old gunslinger rooted through them, pulling out crates and setting them aside to sort through and find what he was looking for.
He didn't pause when Mathian opened the door, though Federov certainly looked different. Pale and dishevelled, a haunted, distant look on his face as he crowbarred open another box and sifted through the heavy metal contents. "... I'm sorry t'have called ye out here. Wouldn'ta done it if it weren't important."
"I would suspect not. I am often not anyone's first choice for 'help'." Mathian smirked, folding his hands behind his back as he quietly watched the 'old' man ripping open crates and the various weapons on the walls. He didn't recognize them really, he was used to flintlock pistols or muskets. He would recognize the WW2 era rifles a little bit and was able to connect the dots regardless of how strange some of the newer guns looked.
After a moment or two of watching him work, he cleared his throat and asked, "So...why exactly was I called upon?"
Federov stopped, resting his hands on the counter in front of him and taking a deep breath. His eyes clenched shut for a moment, before he turned and looked at the man, his face fallen and defeated. "... I needed to talk to you. I needed to make sure that... that you'd look after her." He paused, almost unable to continue. As though saying it would only confirm it. "I..." He took a step forward, looking at the floor. "... I have to go an' save someone. But... this ain't the type o' mission you come back from."
He looked up, locking eyes with the vampire as the weight of his words fell on the room.
One of his eyebrow's arched but other than that, there was no change in his expression or tone, "I intend to marry the woman. We look after one another. That will not change throughout the many years to come." He sucked his teeth in annoyance, "If you do something foolish and get your fool self killed, you will make her cry. I dislike seeing Sylista cry, Federov. I suggest taking more than just yourself to lower the chances of it being one of those 'type o'missions'."
His words cut into him like shards of glass, the old Russian closing his eyes and sighing. "You think I don't wanna?" His voice was louder now, and he looked up again. "... If I don't come alone, he'll kill 'im. Featherston's got my boy, Mathian. He's got Morgan." He paused, taking another step forward. "... I mean, it's... I gotta choose. Between his life or mine. An' that ain't a choice." He shook his head softly. "I mean, I..." His voice lowered again, and he leaned back against a crate with another sigh, turning to look out the window. "... I guess I done cheated death one too many times... can't run forever..."
Mathian bared his teeth slightly at the name of the Eff Bee Eye man. He made a 'hn' noise in his throat as he considered the information on the situation as limited as it was, "He is terrible at his job but he believes you deserved to die a long time ago for murdering his pregnant wife. You shot a captive woman in her head so I suspect he intends to inflict a similar suffering upon you. Morgan will not survive if you attempt your rescue...I believe he wants to watch your face when he murders the boy." He canted his head to the side a bit, "...it is what I would do." He was not a good person in the least and torment of an enemy was always preferable to their death and he knew Featherston wanted Federov to suffer...he'd sympathized with the devil.
He flinched, cinching his eyes shut. "I know I deserve this, Mathian. I know I done wrong. I don't expect forgiveness for the man I was in the past." He turned his head to look at him again. "... He deserves his revenge. But on me, not the boy... I know that man 20 years. Gettin' inside 'is head is the only way I survived this long. I know if I don't try, then the boy will be killed. But if I do try... then there's at least a chance that I can save 'im."
He gave a slow lift and fall of his shoulders in a shrug, "People rarely get what they deserve, Samuel." Mathian knew he would get into a row with Sylista if he at least didn't attempt to talk the man out of his suicidal headlong rush into the jaws of the beast, "This would be getting his revenge on you. An eye for an eye and all that." He pursed his lips, giving a heavy sigh out through his nose, "What should I tell Sylista then?"
The old man took a step forward, looking down at the ground with his hands behind his back. There was a long pause. "... Don't tell her. I'll do it myself." He reached into his jacket pocket, and retrieved a small red envelope with a wax seal. He held it out with a solemn look. "Give it to her tomorrow night."
He pursed his lips, knowing he would be catching holy hell from the woman over this, "...I swear if this causes me more grief, I am summoning your spirit back into a body and turning you into a damn ghoul so I can order you around for eternity, Federov." Mathian muttered as he took the envelope, "There are many things worse than death."
Federov looked up at him, meeting his gaze. There was a moment of silence between the two, before he held out his cane. The two emerald eyes set into the silver serpent's head atop it glinted in the desert light that shined through the dusty windows as he placed it in the vampire's hands.
"Just look after her. For me."
He looked down to the cane, he hadn't noticed the craftsmanship on it before...it was a fine cane. His brow furrowed a bit in a frown as he returned his gaze back to Sam. He gave a small nod, "Without question." Sylista and the twins' health were of his greatest consideration and priority from before this and would well after this event, "...The twins will know of their grandfather." He offered then gave a small smile, "I shall try to keep my criticisms to a minimum when fond tales are shared." Of course he had to joke with his usual manner of dark humor. Even in the face of potential death for the other man, he was an ass. It was just how he was and one could get used to it or not.
A slight smile touched at the corners of his face as he stepped backwards. "... Thank you, Mathian."
He simply nodded again, his hand folding around the cane and setting the butt end down on the floorboards, a little short for him but he suspected he would not be using it, "Best of luck, Samuel. I hope I am wrong, for once, that his goal is only your life and the boy survives."
He paused, a determined look on his face. "... He will. I'll make sure of it."
The vampire dipped his head in a nod and held out his other hand to shake Sam's in his own farewell before making his way back to the portal, that envelope feeling as if it was burning a hole in his pocket and the cane rather heavy in hand.
After shaking the man's hand and watching him leave, the old gunslinger turned back to the counter, where one more box remained. He stared down at it solemnly, then looked out into the distance once more, his look of sorrow turning into one of determination.
"... can't run forever..." He repeated quietly to himself, before he turned and opened the box.
Inside lay two revolvers, black steel with gold engravings along them, and smooth white pearl handles. He picked them up softly in his hands, his fingers adjusting around them in his grip, before he twirled them around and set them into black leather holsters on his belt.
He grabbed his hat by the door, and set it on his head as he walked outside.
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Daily worshippers were no strange thing here. Or anywhere. On any given day, those faithful and downtrodden turned to God for guidance, and he was the hand used to do so. Sometimes, all that was required was that he allowed the person to pray silently in the pew, or prostrate themselves in front of the altar beseechingly. Tears were often dabbed, and he wrapped his arms around plenty of souls torn asunder by tragedy and heartbreak, helping them heal slowly with the holy spirit all around them.
Jakob had watched from afar as Samuel walked into the sanctuary, and had allowed him his peace... but truly, as always, he looked somewhat uncomfortable. The priest shook his head with a small smile, and moved that way, silently joining the man and taking a seat next to him, in silence. Samuel would speak, if he needed to. Jakob had learned to listen.
Federov's hat lay on the seat beside him, along with a two-holstered gun-belt, a bandolier of black leather, two revolvers and a rifle. When Jakob sat down, the old man didn't turn his head, instead staring blankly out into space.
The two sat in silence for what felt like hours, before his hoarse, raggedy voice finally spoke up.
"Y'know... the healthy human mind doesn't wake up in the mornin' thinkin' that this is their last day on earth... but... if I'm honest, I'm startin' to see it as a luxury. Not a curse." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and exhaling with a sigh. "... I guess it's a kind of... freedom."
Jakob did not judge the man for the weapons he carried... he'd already learned that to do so was a folly. He simply sat, and listened, eyes settled on a particularly beautiful and colorful statue of Mary holding her son.
"Those fortunate enough to reach the end of a normal lifespan often make peace with the next step in their journeys." He looked over, and carefully rested a hand on the man's shoulder. "Death was never a curse, Samuel. We are only here for a small amount of time, some of us." He shifted to better face Sam on the pew, and rested his hands in his own lap, back ramrod straight.
"So you have come to terms with your illness. Are you now questioning about your soul?"
The old man nodded at his words, though he let out a small sigh afterwards, still looking up at that same statue. "I think you misunderstand, Father. I was bein' literal." He turned, looking at him with a defeated, empty face. He took a deep breath before turning to face him. "... There's this man... a man I wronged in the past. An' he's wanted his revenge for the longest time... an' now... he's got my boy." He looked up into his eyes, letting silence hang in the air before he spoke again.
"... My son."
Jakob stilled, and blinked. He'd not been aware of the man having a son... but that was not the subject that mattered right now, was it? He looked around a moment, then leaned in closer, just a bit.
"Have you contacted the authorities?"
He sighed, and shook his head, looking down at the floor. He actually almost smiled at the bare-faced innocence of the man. Almost.
"No. He... He told me to come alone. If I don't then... the boy dies." He paused again, and looked up. "... It's him or me, he said. An' that ain't a choice."
"So you are convinced you are going to your death." He said, simply. He sat back up, and took a breath, nodding his head. He wasn't quite... sure where to take this. He dearly wanted to talk the man into enlisting some help, but knew that would be wasted words.
"You've come... to say goodbye?"
Federov stared blankly off into the distance behind Jakob's head for a moment before speaking again. "... I... I guess I..." He bit his lip, tears sparking in his eyes as he shook his head, before he looked the man dead in the eye.
"I'm afraid."
Fear in the face of the unknown was something Jakob saw daily. Felt often. He himself was known to pray for the strength to face it during his morning ablutions.
"I do not blame you. It is normal to be afraid in such a situation." He sighed softly, and took one wrinkled hand between his, curling his fingers around and patting with the other gently. "I cannot help you retrieve your son... but perhaps I could help bolster your courage." It was all he could offer.
He nodded quietly, his hand squeezing Jakob's as his gaze drifted back down to the floor. "... I... I just..." He paused. "... I'm afraid because... because I..." He closed his eyes. "... Father... can... can I ask you somethin'?"
He nodded gently... but the man couldn't see nods. So he answered, voice soft and calm.
"Of course, Herr Federov."
"Am I a good man?"
There was a long silence, before Jakob sighed. "That is a question you yourself must answer. To ask me..." he considered. "I see you as a good man. Troubled, perhaps. And one with quite the past... but a good man. Righteous, you are not. Godly... no. Good? Yes. You have good in you, Herr Federov. I have watched it surface in the time I've known you."
He shook his head a little. "... In all my time here I tried... I tried so hard to answer that question myself. Now that my time is up, I... I find myself still not knowin'." He looked up, a conflicted look on his face. "... I still don't know."
He paused, then shifted himself over to face forward, his gaze drifting down to the floor.
"... Do you think she'll be there?" He said, quietly. "... My wife, I mean. Wherever I'm goin'."
He nodded knowingly, and patted the man's hand again, offering comfort in the tumult of his spirit.
"I like to think that our loved ones await us in Heaven."
"That's the thing." His voice was now barely above a whisper. He stood up, collecting his belongings and walking out into the aisle. With his back to Jakob, he strapped on his belt and his bandolier, then turned towards him, his hat still left in his hand. "... How do I know that's where I'm headed?"
He stood not long after Samuel, and settled his hands in a neat fold at his waist. "You must have faith. Perhaps..." he hesitated, unsure if his next offer would be considered offensive.
"Will you join me in prayer, Herr Federov?"
The question surprised him, and he stayed silent for a moment as he contemplated his answer.
Then, he gently placed his hat on the corner of one of the pews, and silently, he nodded.
Jacob seemed rather pleased, and perhaps as if he'd half-expected the man to refuse. When that moment did not come, he held out his hands, palms up and flat. "Then let us pray. Together."
Nervously, the old man lay his wrinkled hands in the priest's own. He didn't quite know what he was doing here, but... it felt important. Something he needed to do. Something that would make things right.
Jakob lowered his head, and started softly. He did not speak in the Latin of the priests, the German of his mother country, nor the common of many tongues, but rather in the consonants and rolls of Russian. Perhaps he did so so that it was easier to follow along. Perhaps he did so because he thought, perhaps, it might be comforting to the old man to hold it in his heart when the time came for him to remember it. Softly, Jakob prayed.
"O God, listen to my cry! A heart is overwhelmed. It waits quietly for You, victory, unshakable fortress. When our minds feel broken into pieces, we come to You for restoration, and pour out our hearts to You. Give unto us, dear Lord, Your power and Your unfailing love that will support this man and lead him to victory. In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit... Amen."
Federov closed his eyes while the priest spoke, and he found himself gently squeezing the man's hands at the sound of his native Russian. As he continued, the words melted their way into his very soul, silent tears once again seeping down his cheeks.
Once he was finished, Federov choked back a sob before speaking.
"... Amen."
Jakob let the moment sink in, and lifted Federov's hands to the man's own chest, pressing them there. "Take strength from the Lord, Herr Federov. Save your son."
Federov locked eyes with the priest, and nodded. He let his hands drop once more, and picked up his hat...
... and placed it on his head with a determined look, before turning to the door.
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Haru has his feet kicked up in a booth, milkshake in front of him, book in hand as he reads relaxed, his horns stretching forward from above his ears, small cracks in them reminiscent of magma, his tail across his lap, still fuzzy but coming to more of a point now. His staff leans against the wall, a subtle red glow to the mages weapon of choice.
It's been a long past couple of weeks. She's even pretty sure she managed to thoroughly piss someone else off while among the courts today. It's half the reason why she dipped early, even. Plus she's just about had it. Siobhan could hunt her down and yell at her later. For now, she's making her way into the inn through the front door, a bag of some kind of take out hooked over an arm. All in all, she looked exhausted as she makes for the bar, intent on finding juice and a spot to stuff her face. She hasn't seen Haru juuuust yet.
siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip
Demon boy takes a long sip of his milkshake before looking up, eyes twinkling a little as he spots his sister, “Roni!” He slips quickly from his spot at his booth, putting the book back in his bag and grabbing his staff before making his way over.
The sound of her name and the familiar voice has her attention drifting towards Haru. There's a flutter of a confused smile that finds her features. "Haru. It's been a hot minute. Hiya." Through the break in the bar she went, before she was raiding the cooler.
“Hell ya it has!” The cup his milkshake had been in floating to the sink, “Courts being as chaotic as usual? How’re things with Freddy?” His voice is quick and excited, a beaming smile on his face. His outfit of choice today a hoodie with an awful joke on it, jeans and combat boots.
"Gawd. Chaotic is one word fer it. I'm honestly done with it today." There's a beat, and a flutter of a smile. "We've both been busy. But I think I might bother him fer an adventure tomorrow." As she spoke, she pulled a bottle apple juice from the cooler and made her way back around to where she left her food at the bar.
Hopping up on a stool and getting comfy with a smile, “Imagine the politics get old, a bit monotonous, got any idea what kinda trouble you’ll get into?” A mischievous smirk on Haru’s lips, he was no stranger to mischief.
"Fuck, do they ever. I'm really ready to gouge my ears out. " There a snort that follows her words. "Ahh. I dunno. I'm certain it'll be fun. And a good break, fer sure."
Haru did not miss paperwork that went with being big and important, or the politics around appearances. A glass of water lands in front of the boy and he takes a small sip. He smiles a tad, red eyes relaxed, the glow to his horns fading as they do when he’s chill, “So I take it you escaped early today?”
"Fuck yeah I escaped. Pretty sure Siobhan will yell at me later because it's not good, and shows weakness and etcetera..." she huffed heavily and settled into a stool.
“It’s worse if you get angry and fireball someone.” Was Haru talking from experience? “Besides, you get to hang out with your little brother.”
The look she gave him after that statement asked if he spoke from experience. "I do not have the ability to fireball things." There's a beat. "Yo, would you be able to tell if somethin' was a magical ability or not?" She squints at him just a little. He knew the magic thing more than she did. "Hanging with ya ain't a bad thing."
He coughs a little at the look, he totally threw a fireball at someone... “Yea probably,” he tilts his head, “a detect magic or an identify spell would probably do it if the ability was active...” he definitely was getting good at the magic thing, he grins, pulling out a spellbook, “would be a little insulted if it was.” The boy is teasing, clearly in a great mood.
The grin she gives after that cough says she figured as much. "I can make people sleep by touch. I need ta figure if it's magic or not. " she doesn't stress just how important it is. "Eh. Yad eventually get over it. " innocently mused.
The old man was stood outside the front door. He'd been there for a while, just listening to the two of them talk. Tears spiked at his eyes as he listened to them, a smile on his face. They were happy. Both of them. Living. Loving. Haru, his grandson. Roni, his friend. And now he had to deal with a world where... they'd never see him again. How would he face them. How could he?
Haru grins a little bit, “So you’re saying we need a vic- I mean... willing volunteer?” The boy muses slightly, he was a little shit, and he hadn’t yet realized they had company. He checks his phone absently, he’d made a call earlier after all, and was curious if Gramps was on his way, “Got any ideas? If not I’m sure we can find someone who needs a nap.”
."Well, I'd say I'm about the tiredest person on earth."
The door opened, and the old man stepped through. Notably without his cane, he was limping. He took off his hat as he walked in, and... strangely, he was wearing his gunbelt. And had his rifle over his shoulder. He smiled widely at the sight of the two, a quiet coming over him as he looked from one to the other. "... Hey, kids."
"Ideas? Nuh. But I am positive we can find someone that needs a nap. I'll leave their dreams be though." She hummed innocently and pulled a box from her food bag. It was flipped open to reveal spicy wings. The sound of the door opening pulled her attention over towards... the old man that just walked in! There's a beautiful smile pulling at her features. "Heeey! Another face a good company. My day is already improving immensely." That said, the pregnant lady stuffed a wing in her.mouth and expertly cleaned the meat from the bone.
Tail swishes happily, “Gramps!” He cheers, eyes sparkling, as he hops down, always good to have lunch with family. An eye was cast to the weapons, the young man not to worried, after all he was dating Alik, and had a nice arsenal of his own.
Federov's smile widened, his eyes struggling to hold back tears and keep the veneer of normality as he approached, limping across the inn floor. "... Missed you two." He could barely think of words, his voice quiet and soft.
"Missed ya too. Been a hot minute. At least." There's a beat as she crams another wing into her mouth. "I'd demand a hug if I didn't have messy hands." That's okay, it just meant she'd collect extra before he left.
He paused, looking at Roni... before grabbing her and holding her to his chest in a soft, tight hug. He closed his eyes, not saying anything. Just holding her. Letting the moment last.
He reached over and gently pulled his grandson in, too. Holding them both to him as he fought back tears.
"I love you both. So much. An' I'm sorry I don't say it enough."
Haru goes in for a hug, his hands were clean after all, “been since the challenge!!” His voice is light and cheerful, everything was good, everything was normal, as he goes in he finds himself swept in, “Love you too, Gramps.”
Oh. Okay. Pardon the sauce then! There's surprise first at the sudden hug, but soon enough she returns in kind, confused maybe just a bit, but she's okay with that, and let it lingers. "I love ya too." There's a beat, before leaned to press a firm kiss to his cheek. "Ya don't voice it, but ya show it easy enough."
He couldn't help it. Silent tears were flowing now as he held the two of them in his arms. "Y-You're good people. Both of ye. Remember that, ok? Will ye?"
"I just try ta be me." That's what she said when anyone said that she was something. Something was off though. Roni always had that 6th sense of sorts. "Is everything okay?" The words come softly, more curious and concerned than prying. Even still, she just let's him hug her. It felt like that was important. A need even.
Haru tightens his grip, that gut feeling had just been confirmed, as much of an emotional mess as he was, most of the other men in his life weren’t, “I just do the best I can...” Haru says softly, “But I’ll remember...”
Federov nodded softly, pulling back and trying to subtly wipe the tears from his face. "... Thank you. Thank you both."
Once he released them, Roni pulled back and simply fixed the old man with a curious look. As she studied him, a hand dropped to absently rub at her belly. Someone was trying to turn her bladder into dancefloor. "Yer welcome."
He smiled, a hand reaching down to rest against Roni's swollen belly. "... You think up a name yet, kid?"
"I've always had a name fer 'er. Her father named her." There's a beat, and a wave of something almost unreadable crossed her features. Almost. Grief. It's been a moment since she's let herself think about him. "Jeremy named her Lily. It was the name he always wanted fer a daughter." She smiles a touch, even if its bittersweet.
Federov gently moved his hand along her stomach, smiling to himself. "Lily..." He repeated.
He let his hand drop, and took a few steps backwards, looking from one to the other, his face falling a bit. "... I..." He paused. "... I have... something you should know."
Haru doesn’t pry, though he certainly noticed, a smile is offered to Roni, before he tilts his head confused, a flame darting across the cracks in his horns nervously, “What is it?” His voice is soft, his own face falling slightly
It's very possible that Fedorov felt a kick before his fingers left the swell of her stomach. Or was it an elbow? "Yeah, Lily. Still stuck on a middle name. I'm taking suggestions." When he speaks again, there's a tilt of her head and a gesture to indicate he had the floor.
He thought about saying it. He really did. He felt the weight of the silence pulling at him, as though dragging his heart down with heavy chains. "I... I..."
He forced a casual smile. "I'm goin' away for a while. Nothin' major. Just figured I'd let you know."
Haru smiles a little, “Well we should do dinner when you get back, maybe I’ll have learnt how to make my food not so burnt it looks like it was cooked via hellfire...” he looks to Roni, before back to Gramps, “Thanks for the heads up!”
Oh god. Federov felt tears stinging at the back of his eyes once more. His voice shuddered when he spoke. "... Y-Yeah. Dinner. At my place, just like last time." He leaned back on the bar, hands gripping the edge. "I'll... I'll help you out. Might even teach you a few recipes from when I was your age..." He forced a smile, looking deep into the eyes of his grandson and fighting with all his might not to break down then and there.
That smile was forced. Roni noticed things like that. She hadn't been a damn good PI for no reason. There's a faint frown that pulled at her features, but she doesn't press. "Dinner sounds good. I'll come crash it. Just lemme know when ya get back." There's a beat, and a look his way. "How long? Yer gonna be back in time fer lily's arrival, yeah?" There's a beat. "She's definitely gotta meet kick ass Grandpa with the tank."
He gave Roni a smile, biting his lip and nodding as he spoke quietly. "... Yeah. Course I am." He could see it in her eyes. She was guessing at something. He couldn't risk being here longer than this. His eyes met hers. "... Course."
With that, he pushed off from the bar, towards the door. But he stopped with his handle on the doorknob.
He turned around. "... One last thing. Do one last thing for me."
Haru nods, “Course!” He’s a little surprised gramps was leaving so early, but understood there was probably a schedule he had to make, “What is it?”
His eyes met hers, and the look on his face kinda confirmed what she felt in her gut. It made her heart ache. She watched as he turned to head for the door, and hesitated, before she stepped after him. Her steps only paused again when he paused, had on the door. Abyssal hues found the old Man again. "Of course. "
Federov looked at her, then Haru, and he took a deep breath.
"Remember this. Hate... is always foolish. And love... love is always wise. Always try to be nice, but never ever fail... to be kind. Run like hell, because you always need to. Laugh at everything, because it's always funny. Never be cruel, and never be cowardly, and if you are, always make amends."
He turned back to Roni, looking her in the eyes once more. "Everything ends. And it's always sad." He reached over, and gently placed a hand on her stomach once more. "But... everything begins again too. And that's always happy."
"Be happy. For me." He moved his hand up to her cheek. "Just... be happy." A sad little smile spread across his face. "... I'll handle everything else."
Roni fell quiet as Fedorov spoke. His words cemented everything. This was a goodbye and the cranky old man knew it. There would be no dinner. He wouldn't get to meet the little one who's nudge he felt earlier. This was a goodbye without the goodbye. Her throat constricted with her struggle to swallow down her emotions that wanted to swim up and overwhelm her. The backs of her eyes burned with the pinprick threat of tears.
She's already lost so many people she held dear in the past couple years. The thought of another hurt more than she would ever admit. His hand found the curve of her stomach once again, and her hand came to rest atop his. "Such is the cycle of things." Sorrowfully spoken. His hand found her cheek, and she leaned into it, soaking up what little time there was left. She's selfish in that way.
"I'm gonna try. Ta be happy." But fuck if it wasn't so hard already. He was only going to make it harder. Its in silence that she reaches up to collect his face in her hands, and leaned to press a kiss to each one of his cheeks, before she simply threw her arms around him and pulled him in for one last hug.
It's soft and quiet, but there's a whisper of words on a breath, solely for his ears. "I'll make sure she knows ya. Promise."
Haru may be dense, but even he clued in now that this may not be just going away for a while, he glances up at Roni, he swallows just a little, the flames on his horns going out completely, he'd just gotten a family, and now he was going to lose one of them. He absorbs those words, committing them to memory, "I'll try..." he whispers softly, "I promise..." A demon couldn't lie, and neither could the hybrid standing there, no longer able to hide in the illusion he'd been tricking himself with, "I won't forget that." Haru forces a smile, weak, but there, the tears threatening to fall, barely contained.
The old man squeezed Roni tight, his eyes closing as he held her there. She could afford to be selfish. So could he.
After what felt like hours, yet no time at all, Federov pulled back, forcing a smile to his face. He opened the door, stopping midway through and looking at the two of them. "Thank you both. For everything."
His gaze locked with Haru's for a moment, before he stepped down the porch steps, fixing his hat atop his head firmly. The door swung after him as he pushed the fence open, allowing his hands to run across the smooth wooden surface before letting it swing closed.
He rested a hand on Langston's saddle, before pulling himself up onto the great white stallion with one fluid motion. He stared out at the Red Dragon one last time, looking through the doors at Roni with a slight smile. "How do I look?"
Haru meets his gaze, a nonverbal thanks of his own in his eyes, a small message sent for his mind only, before he steps up beside Roni, forcing himself to breath and swallow back those emotions.
"Thank you... for being my family"
She sucked up his contact for as long as he let it linger. Then he finally pulled away, and she let him, oh so reluctantly, then because she's a Terrible glutton for punishment, she's slipping out the door after him, and squashing down all excessive emotion. But her tears are spilling over at this point. "Ya look fuckin dashing." Then she eyed him a moment.
"Hey Sam..." There's only a beat, before she's offering a beautiful smile. "Me n' lil Lily. We love ya."
He locked eyes with Haru, blinking tears away, before he nodded to him wordlessly. He turned his head down at Roni's voice, and smiled.
"I love you too, kid." He looked up at Haru. "Both of ye. An' lil' Lily too."
With that, the old man grabbed the reins, taking a deep breath and straightening his back. He gave one last look to the two of them, before with a loud "HYAH!!", Langston reared up proudly on his hind legs, then broke out into a gallop, pelting down the road. The Last Outlaw, taking his last ride.
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The old man was sat on a log, looking out over the lake with a forlorn, defeated look. The colour had nearly drained from his face completely. He was thinner, his cheeks sunken. wrinkles adorning his face. There were a lot more grey hairs than when they'd met before.
As he stared out across the lake, Federov's mind was blank. It was as though he couldn't allow his thoughts to drift. He would drown himself in them, if he did. Too many questions were swimming in the back of his head, threatening to burst through at any moment. What would the world be like after he was gone? Would he know? How could he be sure his family were safe? His children?
Would she be there, wherever he was going?
Azriella made her way to the lake they had met at previously. Her attire was simple. Casual. A pair of worn, comfortable jeans, plaid button up shirt half buttoned with an undershirt beneath and bare feet, because she detested shoes.
When she neared the scene she could see him sitting on that log, staring out over the waters as if contemplating something very important. His text messages had conveyed a sense of urgency and from that she suspected it was something of immense importance to him. She could tell it almost immediately when he came into sight.
Coming a little closer and finding a good tree to lean against, she crossed her arms in front of her and tilted her head as she looked at the man sitting there. He had definitely aged since last she'd seen him. Maybe he'd come for more blood to counteract the process. Whatever it was he wanted to talk about, she felt she would find out what it was very soon.
"Is everything ok, Sam?" She said it quietly, but loud enough that he would hear. She had a bad habit of sneaking up on people like that.
He didn't respond immediately, not moving or averting his gaze with his back to her. There was a moment of silence between them until he finally spoke, his voice sounding croaky, quiet and hoarse.
"Am I a good man, Azriella?"
Perched against that tree, head still cocked to one side, she waited patiently for whatever answer he was about to give. Admittedly, what came out of his mouth next was unexpected to say the least. While she didn't know Sam Federov that well, her answer was an honest one, possibly jaded from personal experience.
"I think you are who you are. From what I have seen, yes, I think you are a good man. Some people would probably disagree," Though she didn't know anybody that would. "But, I think throughout our lives we are who we need to be in the moment." Vague perhaps, but somewhere in there she did say she thought he was a good man.
He turned his head slightly, giving her a profile shot as he contemplated her words. He didn't expand on what he'd asked, instead turning back towards the lake and lazily wafting his left hand towards the other end of the log he was sat on. "Sit down, kid."
When he turned his head slightly in her direction, her own head straightened up and she looked at him expectantly. His profile offered, she could see a little more age on those features and her brow furrowed just slightly. He said nothing of her response and instead waved her over and told her to sit. Pushing from the tree at the invitation, she made her way over to where he was and sat down on that end of the log. Feet on the ground, she set her elbows on her knees and laced her fingers together in front of her. She didn't look at him. Not yet. She simply stared out at the calm waters much like he had been doing when she arrived, and waited.
Federov didn't initially look at her either, his look vacant and defeated.
"Featherston has Morgan."
She remained silent, staring out at those waters as she waited for him to think? Contemplate? Whatever he was doing, she was giving him time to do that. When he finally spoke, the defeat clearly evident in his voice, Azriella turned her head slightly in his direction. Not really looking at him, but down and to her side, she tried to place that second name. "Morgan...?" It didn't take long, as that meeting had only happened days prior. When the realization hit her, her eyes flashed up to the Russian and she made sure. "Short, skinny, has a friend named Hot Dog and can eat like a bottomless pit Morgan?"
He closed his eyes. "... Yes. My boy. Th-" He had to cut himself off, a lump forming in his throat. "... The... single most important thing to me in the whole world. And now Featherston has 'im."
It was the Morgan she knew! Sam had closed his eyes when he said it, so he would miss the way her hands seized together and her knuckles turned white with the confirmation. He would also miss that dangerous squint to her eyes when she eyed him and her lips pursed together. Sam was the key to all of this, for her at least. She had to convince him, somehow, to let her have him. An angry outburst probably wasn't the best course of action to accomplish that in that moment. "Sam. I am very sorry to hear that." She truly was. "Let...," she stopped there, remembering herself. With a sigh, she continued in a different way. "How can I help?"
He sighed, not opening his eyes, slumping down a little. "... You can't." His voice was even quieter now, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. "Nobody can."
Her brows furrowed again and her head took on that familiar tilt as she looked at him, confused. Shaking her head a bit at the cryptic answer she asked quietly. "I don't understand. We have to get Morgan away from him, before...," She sighed softly, now closing her eyes too. The tears that welled in her eyes were not for Morgan, though she did feel badly that Featherston had him. The tears that filled those lids were for someone else, someone much closer and the thought of what they had both gone through at the hands of that man. "Please, Sam." The words were soft, quiet and if he listened close enough he would hear the tremble of her lips in them as well. "I have to try."
Federov turned to her, tearful eyes staring into hers as a wrinkled hand lay gently on hers. "... He's given me a choice. Morgan... or me." The old man paused, then slid his jacket aside. He undid his shirt, and pulled the hem of it aside to reveal a long, dark surgery scar running across his side. He sighed. "... Seen a doctor the other week. Told me I got about a month left, if that." He closed his shirt, taking his time as though closing each button took effort, and looked out across the lake. His voice shook when he spoke. "... There's no way I'm gettin' outta this alive, Az. This is it."
When he turned to her and laid his hand on hers, she turned to him as well. The tears that threatened to fall blurred her vision for a moment before she blinked them away and listened. Her mouth opened to say something, but no sound came when she saw him push his jacket aside. Looking down to where his hands worked at the hem of his shirt, she soon saw the scar that marred his side. Seeing that, and hearing what he had to say afterwards, a saddened look came over her as she looked up at him. He was buttoning up that shirt and had turned to look out over the water again, but her gaze remained. The scar on his side, the doctor's diagnosis, the choice that lay before him. "You're gonna give yourself up, aren't you? For Morgan."
He didn't turn his head to her, instead just squeezing her hand slightly in response. "... I'm a dead man walkin', Az. If I can bring that bastard wit' me, all the better, but... I know there's no way out for me. If I save the boy... I ain't comin' back."
She looked at him for a moment longer. She understood what he was saying. If she were being honest she would do the same thing if put in his position. When he squeezed her hand she squeezed back, if only to let him know that she was there, and she understood. There was a bit of a problem to her way of thinking however. "I understand. I really do, but, what if you don't take him with you?" She sighed. "I hate to bring it up, but...you don't look good, Sam. If he kills you then what's to stop him from doing the same to Morgan?" She squeezed his hand just a little tighter. "You know he can't be trusted."
He sighed a long, wheezy, drawn-out sigh. "... I know I can get the boy out safe. That's all that matters to me... an' besides. The only reason Featherston would hurt 'im would be to hurt me." He paused. "... If I'm already dead, there ain't no reason to hurt Morgan."
Azriella's face hardened, her lips forming a thin line and her brows furrowing. She didn't understand. She also didn't know Featherston like Sam did. Not even close. She only barely knew Morgan as well, but she did know one thing. "Unless Morgan tries to fight him, or get back at him, after seeing you dead." She could end this. Quickly. She wasn't the strongest person in Rhydin, not by a long shot, but she could take Featherston down before anyone knew what was happening. But, she bit her tongue. It wasn't her decision to make. All she could do now was try to make an argument for the boy's safety.
"Well what do you expect me to do!?" He stood up, suddenly, his voice raised as he looked down at her, tears once again sparkling in his eyes. "... If I don't come alone, the boy dies! I'm just tryin' to get him out safe!! H-He's a good young man, wit' his whole l-life ahead of 'im, an'... an'..." He was trailing off, tears beginning to flow down his face despite himself.
Suddenly, Sam had yanked his hand from hers and was now standing and looking down at her. No more was that strained, raspy voice and instead his voice was strong and defiant. Azriella didn't stand to confront him. She knew what this was, and although she may have flinched at the sudden action, she remained still as he had his little rant. Then his words were trailing off, losing steam, and that's when she stood slowly to stand in front of him. Her face hardened again, trying not to break in front of him and let him see her cry too. Reaching out, she gently placed her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Sam. I don't know what to do either. I...don't agree with what you are doing, but I understand it's what you have to do. I just want Morgan safe. Just like you do. That's all."
Federov seemed to deflate at her words, collapsing down onto the log once more. sitting down with his head in his hands, sobbing quietly. It was all coming out, now. She was right. He could do his best, but his best could easily not be enough. He couldn't guarantee Morgan's safety. But he couldn't call in any backup either, without guaranteeing his demise.
Azriella was standing in front of him with her hand on his arm. When he slumped and went back to sitting on the log she let her hand slip away and looked down at him apologetically. She wished there were some way.... A heavy sigh left her lips then and her eyes closed for a moment while the man sobbed uncontrollably in his hands. It wasn't always visible, but she lifted her hand and ran her thumb along a thin leather strap that went over her shoulder. Lifting it slightly, it fell off of her shoulder and she half turned, tossing it towards the tree she had leaned against earlier. Even before it landed, her iris' had shattered into a pattern of brown, yellow and amber and her clothes flexed hard as her muscles grew. Bones and joints cracked and popped and her skin ripped open in places, replaced by thick, black fur. At the same time, her height grew as did her muzzle while clothes ripped from her form and fell to the ground around her. As the fur protruded further out of her flesh and her body bulked considerably she leaned down towards the man crying there on the log. When she had come face to face with him, one clawed hand on the log beside him, she reached up with the other and tore at the remaining skin on her face, tossing it away to reveal feral eyes and a snarl that showed dagger sharp teeth and she looked him directly in the eyes. As soon as it had happened though, she pulled away from him, that menacing scowl on her face fading to something forlorn and sad before she turned and walked over to that tree. The same thing, every step in reverse could be seen if he cared to watch until she disappeared behind that tree. When she emerged again, pulling down the replacement shirt and wearing the replacement jeans, she walked over to where the log was and sat down next to him again. Without looking at him, she wrung her hands together and squinted, looking out over the water. "It can be that quick."
He may take the offer and he may not. That was still entirely up to him. The only difference was, at least now, he knew he wasn't dealing with some girl who hadn't killed before.
The tears stopped as soon as the transformation began, the old man watching with a noticeable lack of surprise. He moved back a few inches when the great wolf-creature was level with him, his eyes locking with hers in curiosity and confusion.
When the creature walked behind a tree and returned as his friend, he barely bat an eye. When she sat down beside him, he simply turned back to the lake.
"I knew. Anne told me."
His brow furrowed a little. As though something was coming to mind.
She nodded softly, still not looking at him. It wasn't like it was some big secret. She found though, that even when people did know, there was a subtle shift in understanding when they saw it in person. She had been wrong about that with him, but she still had to try. "I figured." There was a moment of silence between the two and she closed her eyes. That was about the best she had to offer, and it had failed. Turning her head slowly, she cast her eyes towards him once more and sighed. "Whatever you decide I'll...," That look on his face. There was something there, and she wasn't about to let it go now. "...what?"
"... Anne." He repeated quietly, barely a whisper, his back slowly straightening up a bit.
When his back straightened and he sat up, so did she. "Yeah?"
He turned to her, his brow still furrowed slightly. "... There'll be an ambush. When I'm on the way to the cabin. I know Featherston well enough to know that that's when he'll try an' get me. He ain't got no intention o' any standoff... He wants me half-dead so he can finish the job. Cowards are like that. An' he knows that in any standoff, ain't no way he's a quicker draw'n me."
When he turned to her, her back straightened just a little more. He'd thought of something and she waited eagerly to hear what it was. Nodding along as he worked out the details she worked them out right along with him in her mind. "Cowards are like that. Is there a plan now?" She asked. He'd mentioned Anne, and now he'd seen what she had to offer. It was all resting on him now.
He paused, his eyes flicking up to hers.
"There might be. Anne can talk to plants, remember? ... Well, the Wilds are a forest. If Anne tags along, she can warn me when that ambush is comin'. Means it'd just be me, Featherston an' the boy. An' I like my chances o' gettin' him out a whole lot better that way."
She was already watching him, hanging on every word. Even then, when his eyes flicked up to hers, those eyes widened by a degree and she leaned forward just slightly. "Yeah." She did remember. She nodded then, understanding where he was going when he said the Wilds were a forest. Then she nodded again with an, "Mhm!" in agreeance. Better chances were better than no chances at all. "Sounds like a plan." She agreed.
Federov stood up, tears now gone. He looked out across the lake with a now determined look, then down at her. "... I won't let my daughter go in unprotected, Az. But I still need to meet Featherston alone. For Morgan's safety."
He paused, and held out his hand, looking down at her. "Will you ride with me?"
Still seated on the log, she looked up at him when he stood, the hint of a smile on her lips from his newfound outlook on the situation. When he looked back at her she sat up at attention, waiting for what he was about to say. "I understand."
That smile grew just a little when he held his hand out and she took it, standing in front of him again as she squeezed it gently and nodded. "I will ride with you."
He once more took his hat up from the log, and placed it firmly on his head, looking at her for a moment.
He whistled loudly, and hoofbeats could be heard in the distance.