nestbox | | on unexpected chances. (garrett and kol)

[If there is anything the Master Thief is prepared for within the City, it is an impossible heist, with impossible rewards. A challenge that forces him to be at his best, a motive that makes him think and move and react at the utmost that he can. He's been doing this for over twenty years, and this heist shouldn't have been different. The plans were laid out, he had everything he needed, and everything had gone just as it should.

Just as the Thief Taker General had predicted.

Sometimes Garrett wonders why he never killed the man, choosing his morality over the possible future consequences letting him live would bring. The humiliation had been worth it, of course, hearing the man still angrily yell at him and wasting his exploding crossbow bolts long after Garrett had gone. But now, standing where he was...

Garrett isn't a fool, and the Thief Taker General knows it. It's in an open courtyard of a manor, with very little to keep him from sight. There's light everywhere, too few shadows for him to hide in, and every time he shoots one out, they know where he is and relight the torches once more. It's a chase of cat and mouse, and while more often than not, he enjoys these kinds of games, this one is getting too close for comfort.

There's a scramble made by the thief, Claw reaching for a grate up the wall of where he first arrived, cloak tailing behind as the guards shout to shoot. He gets halfway up before the sound of an incoming hail of arrows meets his ears, and he picks up the pace, swiftly moving upwards, hands reaching the top of the wall with ease-

And the first arrow goes right into his left leg.

Garret slips at that, one hand hanging onto the wall edge and the other dangling down, trying to swing back up and grab the ledge again, ignoring the pain that screams through his body, when a second arrow lodges itself into his back, close to his heart. A third nicely slips into his shoulder, and by some amount of either sheer stupidity or perhaps insane amount of will, the thief grabs into the ledge and pulls himself up and over, crashing to the other side below. It's not a graceful drop by any means, he lands on his hip and can only remain there in crippling agony for a moment before forcing himself up once more, and dragging himself along the roads back home. Rain begins to pour, making the travel and visibility more of a hassle the further he goes.

By the time he comes close to the clocktower, he's leaving a trail of blood behind him, and is crawling rather than walking or running into his place of safety. Rounding a corner, he collapses where he is, thankful at least that there's shadows everywhere so a guard doesn't happen upon him. But he's lightheaded and his eyelids are getting heavy, breathing is becoming a chore and the searing pain he felt is now dulling into an aching throb.

So this is what it's like to die. What a way to go.

There's sounds of pain as he pulls out the arrows that he can reach, then finally leans back against the wall, waiting for whatever comes. Pathetic, really, to be dying because of a man he should have killed so long ago. There's irony somewhere in that, but Garrett doesn't have the care or willpower to really search for it anymore.]

[There were a number of things to be said about this city, and a few of them were even good, as far as Kol Mikaelson was concerned. None, however, had anything to do with cheer. In fact, the Original had idly wondered at times if he was not perhaps the most happy person of the lot. The poor worried about surviving, the rich ones on the top of the heap fretted about staying on top, superficial and paranoid.
...and then there was Garrett, less concerned with simply making do and more about the next acquisition without ever being eager to display them to the world, addicted to the challenge and the reward both.

A few times Kol had even attempted to return the stalking, sure that he was capable of following him unnoticed in every way, but Garrett had proven time and time again that his senses were too sharp to decieve. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, all that had served to accomplish was that Kol became more interested in him.

Tonight it's the smell of blood thick in the air that catches his attention. Not simply by virtue of being there, although it is not so common a presence in this city. There's a lot of it, hanging in the damp air, and without either the clinging, sticky addition of sickness, or the screaming that might indicate one gone mad, or the voices and sounds of stomping guardsmen.
More importantly, it's near the Clocktower.

With nothing better to do and his curiosity nudging him on, Kol goes to investigate, coming upon the fallen master thief as he saunters into the alley with no apparent concern for his safety, hands in his pockets.

For just a moment he stands, taking in dark blood on dark stone, dripped and smeared, broken off arrows strewn around the slumped form. Kol drops into a crouch in front of Garrett, looking at him up close for the first time.]

Finally got in well over your head, did you little thief.

[The pieces are not hard to put together.]

[It's gotten rather quiet as time has passed, the master thief noticing that the sound of the rain seems to fade in and out, depending if he concentrates. His right eye glows and smokes periodically, but it's a faded kind of aqua compared to the normality it usually is. More than once he swears he hears the sound of guards passing by, trying to hold himself still as a light comes and goes, but is never close to where he lies. Maybe he'll die by himself, out here right by home. He'd rather prefer he'd die inside the Clocktower, leaving the whereabouts of his death a mystery, but it doesn't look like he's going to get that kind of luxury.

And then there's the sound of footsteps extremely close and he looks up, noticing a rather familiar figure in front of him. The thief gives a huff in response, pulling down his cowl, a wry smirk on his lips despite the situation. His voice is a little hindered, but that doesn't stop him from talking.]

Don't act so excited, Kol- you'd think I was dead.

[Garrett does not expect pity, not from the City, and especially not from Kol. Nor does he want it, honestly. He was prepared, he had done everything correctly- but luck was not on his side for this heist, and things had gone topside. He's thankful, at least, that it's not the Thief Taker General here, but Kol is perhaps just as mad as the other, so really, it's hard to tell if it's a good or bad thing the vampire has found him. More than anything else, the thief is expecting him to rather happily watch as he passes.]

Come to gloat, have you?

[There's no bitterness in his voice, as he feels none himself. It's just who Kol is, and Garrett isn't one to change that. It's not like the other would ever let him, either.]

[Kol huffs a laugh, lips stretching into a grin. Home or no home, it didn't change that people who know him in the slightest assume the worst of him. No surprise, though. They're right often enough, as often as they are completely off the mark about what he's thinking.

Like now - he's not glad to see Garrett dying. It isn't a thing he looks forward to, simply because Garrett has entertained him more than most anyone in this bleak, forsaken city. An interesting person among so many sheep, he's not enjoying the idea of letting him go, for all that he is not as possessive as some in his family. It's only now that the idea crosses his mind to perhaps turn the master thief, and the laughter reaches his eyes at the thought of Garrett walking into impenetrable walls denying him entry, faced with the necessity of being invited in anywhere. No, that won't do.]

Maybe a little. Did the General get you this time?

[He's got a few minutes, if he's any judge of the other's state. And even if Garrett falls unconscious from the blood loss, he won't immediately die. The way Kol figures, this is nothing he can't still fix.]

[Ah, so he does want to pass the time. Garrett finds it a little odd, but makes no mention of it. Why waste time asking pointless questions? He shifts a little, a sound emitting from him like something between a yelp and a growl, and he tilts his head back and lets out a quiet chuckle.

The grand Master Thief, in all his glory and pride, now stripped to nothing more than the remains of a dying man. His reputation is going to take a beating for this.]

Might have something to do with it. Could be he got lucky, or I just was unlucky.

[He will never take the blame for failure. He knew what he was getting into, and had prepared for it. Fate just didn't want him to win this time. Most people would say he's had that coming for years, though he was never one to really believe in all that, even now. No, this was something that he couldn't have prepared for, despite all his best efforts to do so. And that, perhaps, is what burns him most.]

[Even now, even dying, he doesn't break. Doesn't complain, plead, or make excuses. There's not even a last request. Kol sways his head in vague agreement, but he's seen many people die. This display isn't the usual. He wasn't wrong considering this one something else, doesn't regret that he gave him the chances he did.

Has no second thoughts about offering him another, either. In a moment.]

Could be. And you're fine with this, just dying out here over a stroke of bad luck?

[Absently, Kol brings the General's face and name to mind, pulling it out of the shelves of his memory and considering having a word or a few with him at a later point.]

[Most people would, if they were in his place. Cry, scream, beg, grovel and say life wasn't fair, place the blame on the world and not themselves. But Garrett's pride is far better than that, to stoop that low, to know when he's beaten and to accept it rather than act like a fool.

Still, there's a tilt of his head, and he furrows his brow as if to chastise the other.]

Don't get sentimental on me now. It doesn't suit you.

[It's all teasing, really. That aside, Garrett shakes his head and actually answers his question.]

What thief actually wants to die? [A snort, and a wince.] I never thought about it- dying. You start thinking like that and you're already dead, in a place like this.

[And it's true. The City is not kind, no matter what place you live in, and Garrett has seen that example firsthand for many years. It's why he's survived for so long, ignoring the buckling weight of the dreary atmosphere, instead choosing to thrive by his own means. It's how he's learned his skills and his abilities over time, refusing to accept that he should use them for any purpose other than his own. And it's the reason now why he's here in an alleyway, bleeding out like an idiot, dying in front of a man he is not entirely sure he can call a friend, but certainly not entirely an enemy.

The City is not kind, and does not care whether he lives or dies. Garrett has simply returned the favor as the years have passed.]

[The City is not kind, no. Kol has seen this much in a far shorter time, though his life has yet to be threatened - and how would it be? His smile still comes easy, like the weight of the collective misery that permeates everything here can not lay a finger on him. It comes easy even now, seeing this man he's come to vaguely care about bleeding out in the street.

He's seen too many deaths and caused too many deaths for it to hurt him still. Were he to be honest, and given a few years time, he might come to despise this city simply because it isn't home. Nothing is, here. Nothing ever will be. Spots on a map aside, it's his family he misses, before they all became too monstrous to stand each other for long without tearing each other apart (piece by measured piece, leaving twisted ugly scars under the skin).
A place and time that no longer exists.

Kol makes do, passing the time.]

Not a problem I've run into. But then, nothing here's proven to be a threat so far.

[No reason to be cagey about this. He's sure Garrett has noticed as much himself, anyway.]

[Oh, he's noticed. Noticed in ways that guards simply stare at Kol when he's out beyond lockdown hours, how Kol speaks to them, and they simply turn back around and go back to their duties. How Kol seems to move with incredible speed in whichever direction he pleases, how he can see Garrett despite it being completely dark, how he is just there and then not. Garrett is no fool, he knows Kol is not ordinary, but as to what he is? Well, the thief isn't about to ask.]

I'd be surprised if there was.

[There's a weak chuckle at that, but now his eyelids are feeling heavier, finding himself closing them and reopening them in an effort to stay awake. There is a great temptation to simply fall asleep where he is right now, to let go of consciousness and have Kol simply watch him fade into a corpse over time. Hah. The pain is still there, but he feels relatively numb all over. Numb and cold. Weak, as well, but that's to be expected. He is dying, after all. Not a thing he wants, but he can't exactly change that now.]

[Of course Garrett noticed. If he hadn't, Kol would be disappointed, and surprised if he asked, too, even now. The disinclination to ask anything is a terribly common thing in this city, after all. Especially things that might come with a price just knowing.

The weight that fatigue brings, that bloodloss brings has crept in slowly but surely upon the thief. Kol can hear his heartbeat slowing down if he listens for it, each breath a little more difficult than the last. The tiredness is a familiar sight. Soon he'll drift off.]

I could fix you, you know. I could save your life.

[The offer is dropped in the other's lap without quite so much of the jovial humour. It's not all gone, but he meets the mismatched eyes levelly. It is not a plea, however. Kol does not implore him or try to reason with him, stating, instead, a fact. He could.]

[For a long moment, Garrett says nothing, drooping eyelids flicking back upwards and his right eye glowing faintly. Kol is offering him something that anyone else in his place would immediately leap at the chance for, and the thief is well aware of it. He doesn't know how, doesn't think he wants to know how, and by some sense of logic is not completely sure he should know. Not entirely.

There is no begging on the other's side, no plea for Garrett to consider. It's simply there- an instance in which the dying may have a chance at living once more. Still, he is cautious.]

What's the catch?

[Nothing in this place comes free. No matter how many pretty words and lights you may try to shine on it. He's well aware this might be spitting in the face of hospitality, but there are things still that he will not yield to, even with his last breath. Anything that limits his freedom as a thief; servitude, blind faith, unquestioning loyalty- he would rather die than be forced into those things unwillingly.

Live as a thief, die as a thief. A strange morality for someone else, perhaps, but in truth it suits him just fine.]

[Offered a way out of dying, a means to prolong his life despite everything, while on the verge of closing his eyes for good, Garrett asks for a catch. Kol visibly bites back laughter. That level of character he'll even give an honest response.]

It depends. I'm not going to hold any debt over your head, but some people get hung up on it. Otherwise, unless you absolutely insist on getting yourself killed a second time within the next few days?

There isn't one.

[Unless he dies with Kol's blood in his system, he won't turn. And apparently Garrett does not make a habit of overextending himself, or he wouldn't have lived until now to begin with.]

[The answer, perhaps, is different from what he's expecting, and now Kol may begin to see him fight the weariness if only for the other to keep his word. There is barely enough strength for him to prop himself up, but he's stubborn and does it anyway, using the wall as support rather than a resting place. He hisses, quietly, but makes certain he can be heard.]

Then do it.

[He can avoid dying over the next few days. It's not as if he plans for this to happen anyway. Being cooped up in the Clocktower will be difficult, but better to be safe than to take a chance and possibly have worse consequences. He's been bedridden for a week, and in a coma for a year, he'll survive this.]

[This isn't something that will become a habit. Kol isn't going to become a substitute for Garrett paying attention, and that's the thing he cares about, because the vampire knows very well what happens to people who lean on him, having good faith in his favour. They're sheep seeking out a wolf in hope of protection. It ends something like that, too.

He considers baring his fangs here, sharing part of a secret he's kept from the entirety of this world so far, except the dead. Instead, he snatches up one of the arrows from the ground, slicing into his hand with the pointed tip, never so much as wincing. Without further ado, he drops the arrow and shoves the bleeding cut at the thief.]

Drink.

[He can make Garrett do it, but he's not sure if he would. The cut is deep enough, red flowing freely into his palm and dripping down, trickling down his wrist. Restraint is not Kol's strong suit.]

[It is a rare instance, because Garrett will never rely on Kol to save him. He relies on no one but himself, and that habit won't change, even if the other saves his life. So there is no regret or anger at choosing this now, as he knows it won't happen again.

But when Kol shoves his bleeding hand towards the thief, he pauses for a second, uncertain as to this being the way he wants to survive. And then he feels the wave of tiredness push itself on him again, and all that hesitation goes out the window. Weakly, he brings Kol's hand to his mouth, and does as he says. The taste of blood against his tongue isn't uncommon, at least in his younger years, but this is not exactly normal by any standards. Had he not been reduced to where he is now, his pride probably would have pushed through and made him refuse it.

As it stands, he knows this isn't a chance that will come again, so he takes it. He swallows, copper going down his throat, and then there's a blink before he even realizes what's happening.

The wound on his leg is healing. Physically healing itself, like the fibers and threads of a tapestry weaving itself back together after being torn apart. The hole he has in his shoulder is almost gone, as if he'd never been struck, and the one in his back? He can feel it push out the arrow tip lodged in there as if it was simply a flicker of annoyance. Garret can breathe again. He can breathe. Without being tired, without losing energy, it's as if he had never come across that struggle at all. Had never bled out in the streets like an idiot.

His head snaps back up to the other at that, a mixture of confusion and thanks and uncertainty all in one very clear in his eyes. Nothing like this exists here. Not even the Primal can do something this incredible. The thief keeps his mouth shut on asking, moving his limbs for the first time since collapsing there, and stands, not entirely sure what he should do. But the way his eyes flicker all around him, especially how his right eye glows and then recedes, says enough for him in the silence.

What the fuck was that, Kol.]

[He's not sure when he last used his blood to heal a mortal. Perhaps a very long time ago, but after a century of nothing, the dates are tricky to keep straight anyway. Kol witnesses this miracle, watches Garrett's face as he realizes what's happening, and all he does is carefully reach around him to remove the arrow out of his back he has not been able to. An easy gesture to misunderstand, caring and nearly gentle in appearance, when he cares only about the result.

Kol's so used to ending life, it's a different sight to see when life returns into someone, the light of it flaring up again instead of being extinguished. As he withdraws his hand, it will seem like a minor thing to Garrett that his flesh, too, knits itself back together, the cut on his hand quickly vanishing.

Kol rises to his feet alongside Garrett. Gratitude is not something he's used to seeing directed at himself. Not at all, not in the least, and certainly not something he's used to inspiring, except perhaps to break it right down again the next moment, witnessing hope turn into despair.
Even now, his smile has a predatory edge - even now, he would still be percieved as a threat, despite the help given. In a city where nothing is free and everything has more catches than you'd like to believe, he still isn't planning on holding it over him. Not only is it a small thing for him to do from his perspective, but it yielded more than enough entertainment for him to make up for the minor inconvenience of pain. Not for the first time, Kol feels profoundly alien in this city, but relishes in it. There's something intense about the touch of cold and terrifying alone-ness, knowing that his nature is truly singular, here, shared not even with his family, not even with an immortal creature thousands of years ago.

And yet. And yet, the gratitude is uncomfortable. Sits at odds with him and what he's been for centuries. The urge to tear, to break, to kill rears its very familiar head. For now, Kol keeps it in check.

And as usual, he explains nothing. The result is satisfying enough though. Once again, the mechanical eye glows its eerie blue, and he sees the wakefulness returned to the thief, heightened now after what has happened to him. Wouldn't you like to know. Well, honestly, no, he probably wouldn't.]

Edited (welp there were more words now that I'm more awake.) 2014-04-10 13:30 (UTC)

[For the longest moment, Garrett stares at Kol, eye flaring as he is unsure of what to say, or even do, at this point. He's been given a second chance, a whole point in which he can go about doing things as he should. Most would thank the other and shout in joy, cry, perhaps offer some kind of thanks through embrace or something similar.

But this is Garrett, and Garrett is not one who does thanks or gratitude like a normal person. So he shifts from foot to foot for a second, before swooping backwards into the darkness again. He knows Kol can see him, knows that making any effort to try and hide from him is pointless, so he doesn't. The thief simply turns, hooks the Claw onto a grate, pulls himself up, and heads towards the Clocktower.

It'll be a few days before he goes out again. He's no idiot. Much as he wants to go out and heist, he takes Kol's warning seriously, and so his plans will have to wait. Until then, the City will remain safe from at least one threat it carries in itself.]

[The Original remains. Still smiling, he watches as the thief makes his exit, having recieved all the words he expected to (none). For a short time Kol merely stands, listens to the relative silence of the city, an unending piece of human suffering of many kinds. And it occurs to him that perhaps he should even matters out now, take a life (or several) for the one he saved.

He crouches down, picking up one of the arrows with thumb and index finger, turning it around and over. After a few moments' consideration, he rises once more, the broken off arrow still in hand. The next instant, he's elsewhere already.]

[Sometimes, Kol's anger gets the better of him. It rarely shows outwardly, because while Elijah learned sincerity and seriousness and honor, he learned to smile to get what he wanted. To keep his anger hidden until there was no way to hold it down any longer.

There are many lessons he has learned from the city since he was thrown out into it. Fearing guards, perhaps unfortunately, isn't one of them. And despite his father's penchant to prey on what he percieved as weaker, Kol is more likely to lash out against whatever it is that bothered him to begin with. The result of this tonight is this:

Three guards dead or dying, blood spreading along the crevices of the cobblestone pavement. A few very bruised ribs. A cut along his left arm. A bruise on his face. A loose tooth. A bit of a commotion in the streets. A shiny and sharp new dagger. Not, unfortunately, a lot of time to run.

Kol makes it, just barely unseen, up a few floors of the clock tower and into the first opening he finds, where he promptly finds a shadow and eases himself down to the ground in it. Damp and bloodied and sore, he catches his breath first of all.]

[There's something to be said when one lives in a clocktower, and can tell when another enters it. Garrett has been laying out plans for a future heist, the headlines of another grand ball highlighted in a nearby newspaper, focused on the hows and why and wheres and whens. It doesn't even seem possible for him to hear something happening far below, but there's a twinge in the back of his mind, almost like a switch, and he looks out over the edge for a moment. Then, he swoops over it and down into the darkness below, moving from ledge to ledge until a very familiar figure comes into his sight.

He finally comes to rest on a beam above the other, tilting his head and crouching as if a bird on a perch. He may or may not be smiling.]

You always tend to make the loudest noises when you're trying to hide.

[Hello, Kol. He's glad to see you.]

Edited 2014-05-20 19:51 (UTC)

[At least he has to admit, staying still isn't hard when he's just past fearing for his life. Every breath kind of stings though, and he's not sure if he can afford to stretch out his legs fully for all the insane contraptions someone tries to keep their home safe with. As soon as Garrett speaks up, Kol tips his head back and looks right at him.]

I don't recall asking a crow for advice.

[A bit petulant? Maybe. ...Yes. It's not even remotely fair, over the noise of the clocktower Kol didn't hear a single thing, and he's frankly suspecting he wouldn't have even without the other sounds. So he's going to sulk and continue bleeding on your floor.]

| on unexpected chances. (garrett and kol)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject