All in All, We End the Same

[Sylvia Talbot]

Prompt List

• Brother
• Hate
• Bet
• Birthday
• Silver
• Laugh
• Illusion
• Fight
• Angel
• Valentine's Day

[Sylvia Talbot]

L A U G H

"Do you think I look okay?" Sylvia asked, straightening the red top she wore and smoothing her jeans nervously. She looked at her reflection again in the window of Chad's car, smiling to see if she got lipstick on her teeth.

"Sylvia, you look fine," Chad said, looking over at her. "I promise, our friends are really nice. They will like you."  Christ but he'd forgotten how timid she could be. His only fledgling, he'd met Sylvia around the same time her brother had been turned. She'd always been a proper, sweet sort of girl, and he could see that she had not let go of some of the ways of life from before, even several hundred years in the future. She had an expectation that men were gentlemen and women were ladies - although, as a Triste, she fully understood that a lady could also be a fighter, but still...   If he had to guess, he'd think that she'd rub Dawn the wrong way, which was not a fight he wanted to have.

She studied his face, then frowned. "You don't believe that," she scolded him.

"I think it'll be fine," he told her, giving her hand a pat. "Come on, let's go." And with that, they got out of the car and walked through the parking garage. She trailed behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder, amused to see her tugging at a red ribbon in her hair. Hard to believe she could be quite so vicious when she was fretting over whether or not a satin ribbon was "too formal".

Once they got into Dawn's apartment, after much hemming and hawing had in the hall where she danced nervously, trying to find excuses to leave, she felt Chad trying to 'relax' her a little, and gave him a Look. The look plainly said that she had it under control, and he held his hands up wordlessly, turning to greet his girlfriend.

"Hi," she said, holding a hand out to Sylvia. "Dawn."

"Oh, hello," Sylvia said, taking her hand. "Chad's told me so much about you, it's so lovely to meet you finally!"

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same," she said, her tone less than welcoming. "Anyways, make yourself at home. My sister is in the kitchen with some helpers, feel free to join."

"Of course," Sylvia replied. She went to the kitchen, frowning to herself as she walked through the spacious apartment. Chad hadn't told Dawn about her? She was like a sister to him, what possible reason could he have had for that? She felt like Dawn had perhaps been threatened by her, but it wasn't exactly proper to immediately come out of the gate and say that she shouldn't, was it, now? She'd just let the evening play out. Behind her, she could hear Chad quietly chastising Dawn for her sunny disposition, and politely ignored it.

She walked into the kitchen area, greeted by way more people than she'd expected. A redhead was setting up a bunch of little bowls that had different things in them - sprinkles, candy pieces, et cetera - and an incredibly large man was pulling a rack of cookies out of the oven. There were already several rows of cookies on wax paper spread across the counter, which had more or less been transformed into a little cookie building factory. Seated at the counter and decorating diligently were two other men.

"Hi," she said softly. "I was told to come help?"

Wren looked up. "Oh!" she cried. "Oh, great! You must be Chad's friend. Sylvia, right? Hi, I'm Wren - sorry, my hands are covered in frosting. But, here, sit here," she directed, flitting about like a pixie. She pulled a stool up to Sylvia, putting her directly across from one of the men. "You've decorated cookies before, right?"

Sylvia's eyes were wide; she was actually a little overwhelmed by the cold and hot receptions she'd received. Was Chad sure that he was dating Dawn, and not this one? She seemed way more his type. "Yes, I have - not for a long time, though," she admitted. Years. Centuries, in fact.

"Okay, well, it's really easy. I need to make more frosting, but Odin and Dominic can show you."

"Ha-ha," Odin said, sarcasm evident. "I can't even show myself, Wren," he joked.

"Figure it out," Wren replied smoothly. She left Sylvia at the counter among the rows of cookies and went back to what she'd been doing before, which consisted more of yelling at the other man to stop eating the cookies than actually making the frosting.

Sylvia looked down at the naked cookie man in front of her. Hesitantly, she picked up the white frosting, and began squeezing little buttons onto him.

"I can't tell what I did to this cookie," Odin said, leaning back on his stool. "Whose idea was it to have the blind guy decorate?"

Sylvia looked at his cookie critically. "It's okay," she said. She reached out for his hand, speaking as she did so. "I think it needs some coloured sugar, though. This one," she said, directing his hand to the green sugar bowl. He took a pinch, and she directed it back to the cookie, dropping it ceremoniously.

"It's perfect," she said.

Dominic finally looked over at what they were doing. "It's a fuckin' tennis ball," he said. He looked at Odin. "Congratulations. You made a tennis ball."

Odin grinned. "I like green," he offered, rubbing his fingertips together to rid them of the remnants of sugar that stuck to them.

"So do I," Sylvia said shyly, looking back down at what was becoming a very dapper snowman.

Dom got up, taking an ugly blue cookie that he'd ruined with him to Wren. "Hey, got a second?" he asked.

She looked at him, then the cookie. "Why, you want me to fix that? Because you need to scrape the frosting off and try again." She followed him anyways, stepping into the living room.

He took a bite of the cookie, pointedly. "My cookie is perfect," he said, though the face he made when the mountain of frosting hit his tastebuds said otherwise.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "See why we were never allowed to just eat frosting as kids? Anyways, what? Did you just want to try and establish dominance by eating that in front of me? Weird flex but okay," she joked.

"No," he hissed. "Yo, I think Odin was just flirting," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"What!" Wren gasped. Dominic made a face at her, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Luckily, nobody had heard her - Shaun had turned up the Christmas station on his phone so all they heard was dogs barking to Jingle Bells. "What?!" she said again, this time matching Dom's volume.

"Yeah!" he said. "Like, you know how he's always like nice, right? And quirky? Yo this girl just took his hand for some sugar and now they're talking about how much they like ugly cookies," he spat.

Wren had a thoughtful look on her face. She looked at Dom, then turned at her upper body to look at the two sitting across from eachother, critically studying their interaction. She looked back at Dom. "I don't see it."

Dom slapped his hand on his thigh. "There were giggles," he insisted.

"From who?!" she demanded. "Quit trying to play matchmaker! Go back over there and decorate!"

"I'm not trying to play matchmaker, I'm just - "

"What the fuck are you two whispering about over here?" Chad said, scaring the absolute SHIT out of Dom. He squealed and almost dropped the half-eaten cookie.

"Christmas Gifts!" Wren said, at the same time Dominic said, "New Year's Plans!"

Chad stared at them, and they both slank back into the kitchen. "Fucking children," he hissed to himself. He followed after them, observing how the cookie manufacturing was going. Dawn had finally gotten it through her head that Sylvia wasn't a threat, and was actually sitting next to her, pleasantly chatting and eating more of the cookies than she actually decorated. Close fucking call, there. He'd have to talk to Wren about that one.

Odin said something and they all laughed, but he noticed Sylvia laughed a little more and narrowed his eyes. He felt as though he was being stared at, and looked up - Wren and Dominic were staring back at him.

Hmm.

[Sylvia Talbot]

B I R T H D A Y

  Birthdays weren't really celebrated where Sylvia lived. They were considered frivolous, and encouraged idolatry. Sylvia was neither of those things, and so she quietly went about her day, from waking her younger siblings to making breakfast to feeding the animals to running errands. Errands, specifically, she had not looked forward to. The old shopkeep had been leering at her since she turned 15, and it made her uncomfortable. She was glad to have her brother with her, even if she was forced to. It would be improper to wander about on her own.

"Tis lovely outside," she offered, trying to make conversation with her brother, who had thus far remained silent. The walk into town was not long, but long enough for them to converse freely.

"Indeed," Jeremiah muttered.

Sylvia frowned. "Brother, is something on your mind?" She tugged at his arm a little. They had always been so close, despite him being older - lately, though, he seemed distant. She couldn't discern as to why.

Jeremiah looked at his sweet sister, and felt an ache in his chest. Could he tell her the truth? That he'd seen a dark man in their barn who had held out a dark book for him to sign? He hadn't, yet, but he'd been thinking about it, despite knowing that it would mean certain death if anyone knew. The dark man came every night to see if he'd considered the offerings of eternal life, wealth, and the prospect of being his own god rather than some nameless, faceless, ever-present sense of anxiety looming in the sky.

"Tis a special day," Jeremiah said finally, his hand over hers. That dark man had given him a gift to give to Sylvia for her birthday. Jeremiah hadn't even told him the occasion was approaching; he simply knew, and had produced from the folds of his cloak a lovely trinket. It was a hair comb, decorated modestly with a single red gem. It was silver filigree, with teeth wide-set apart enough that it could sit in her thick blonde hair comfortably. It was quite lovely, and Jeremiah had often taken it from beneath his pillow where he'd hidden it to admire it.

"No it isn't," Sylvia said, though her cheeks reddened a little. Always so hard-pressed to have any attention on her, Sylvia was. She was the perfect example of modesty and piety.

"Yes, it is," he said, stopping on the dirt path. He turned to her, and put his hands on her face. "Tis the day I was graced with an angel such as you." He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, then, and smiled. "Of all our siblings, you are my favourite. Don't tell the others, though; I think playing favourites is considered ungodly."

Sylvia laughed her shy laugh, but couldn't hide her smile. "Brother, you flatter me. We are only separated by three years, but it feels like some days we could be twins."

"I've gotten something for you," he said, and pulled the comb from his pocket. "You can't show anyone, sadly, but perhaps someday - "

"Jeremiah," Sylvia exclaimed, stepping back from him as she saw the gift. She looked horrified, not elated. "I cannot accept this," she hissed. "Tis too rich, father would - "

"Forget what father and mother would say," he snapped. "Sylvia, there is an entire world outside of this place that we're in, and there, nobody would care if you wore such a trinket in your hair. They might even admire it; attempt to procure one of their own, in fact," he insisted. "Now, I realize that I'm acting out of sorts right now, and I understand your hesitation, but sister - what if - what if I left?" he asked, finally.

"What?" she said, eyes squinting in confusion.

"What if I left? What if we left? We could leave tonight if we wanted."

"Jeremiah, have you been bewitched?" she demanded. "We couldn't just leave. We have no money, nothing but the clothing on our backs, and father and mother - we must, stay, we must stay and honor them and care for the family," she rambled.

Jeremiah grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a shake as she babbled about her duty in Christ to be a good daughter. "Fuck Christ," he finally spat. "Tis all lies, Sylvia."

She yanked out of his grasp, face twisted in disgust. "I should go into town on my own today," she said, straightening her modest brown dress. "I will tell them that you had to turn and go home to help with the horses," she added. "Give me the money father gave you to purchase our supplies." She thrust her hand out, palm up. The gesture was hostile, and it matched the look in her eyes.

"Sylvia - "

"Give me the money, brother," she insisted. "Give it to me, and go home, and we shall forget this ever happened."

Begrudgingly, he gave her the money, and watched helplessly as she walked away from him in the direction towards town, pulling her cloak a little more tightly about her shoulders as the wind picked up. When he lost sighed of her, he heaved a loud sigh, then bent down to retrieve the rejected gift that she'd dropped in the dirt. His fingers brushed against the toe of a black shoe, and he fell backwards, squarely on his rear.

"I see she did not love the gift," the dark man said. "Tis a pity. It would have suited her."

"She did not love much of what transpired," Jeremiah admitted bitterly. He got up from the ground, brushing his backside off.

"Perhaps she would not come with you as you previously suggested," the man said, a hint of something in his voice that Jeremiah did not understand.

"I could make her," Jeremiah insisted. "I could make her see."

"I don't think so, child," he replied. His voice was soft, quiet and smooth; like the hiss of a snake, but not. "And you?"

Jeremiah shook his head. "I did consider your offer, but I cannot sign your book, sir."

The man shrugged. "Perhaps you will change your mind," he said cryptically, "in the upcoming weeks. Should you find yourself on the precipice of that decision, all you need do is call my name, child, and I will be there."

Jeremiah swallowed. "And what is your name?"

"I think you know," the man said. And then he was gone, and Jeremiah was left standing alone on the dirt path.

[Sylvia Talbot]

B R O T H E R

Sylvia had made a makeshift bed upon the hay they'd tossed into her cell. It was moldy and damp; she assumed they'd parsed the bales out so they wouldn't set fire - no doubt yet another thing they'd blame her for, of course. She sat up, making a face in the dark as pieces of the hay stuck into her like needles, and moved off of the pile and onto the cool earth. Perhaps it was better to lay in the dirt. Perhaps then God could hear her.

She heard coughing coming from a space adjacent to her, but she couldn't see exactly where. They were in cages inside a wooden shed, and only tiny bits of light peeked through, but not enough for her to make out solid shapes. The coughing came again, this time harder, deeper, and gave Sylvia the idea that there was sickness in them.

"Are you well?" she asked hesitantly, not really expecting an answer.

"I think I should pray that I may not make the trial," the voice replied, between coughing.

"Irene?" Sylvia asked, surprised. "I thought they killed you!" Sylvia rose, going to direction that Irene's voice came from, and grasped the bars, pressing her face to them. "Oh, I'm so happy to hear the sound of your voice. I thought I was alone in here."

"You may soon get your wish," Irene muttered. "They mean to burn me tonight. You might last another day or two at most. It helps that your brother is on the council," she said bitterly, and Sylvia was positive that there was a double meaning to her words.

"But we are not witches," Sylvia said, confused. "You are not a witch. I am not a witch. How could they find us guilty of witchcraft when we are not witches?"

Irene snorted. "Idiot child," she chided. "Tis a farce. Tis meant to be a way to stifle us, or teach us lessons. Tell me, have you denied any man your hand? Or any other part of your body, for that matter?"

Sylvia was appalled. "No, there have been no suitors - "

"Perhaps from afar, then. Perhaps there was also a portly wife who noticed her husband's wandering eyes and thusly you were accused of bewitching him," Irene insisted. "Sylvia, mark my words - we are not in here by chance."

Sylvia sat down, back to the bars now. She looked up into the darkness of the ceiling, and sighed. "Did you reject someone?" she asked curiously.

Irene laughed, and it was a throaty, scratchy sound. Thankfully it was dark, so Sylvia could not see that Irene had ripped a piece of her dress off to dab at the blood that sprang from her mouth every time she coughed. It was tuberculosis, though she didn't know that yet. Just evidence of how she paid a price for using magic; it must be that God's wrap had stricken her down for her betrayal.

"Yes," she replied, after she was done coughing and laughing.

Sylvia frowned. "Well, who? Who would accuse you of witchcraft because you rejected them?"

"Your brother," came the reply.



Sylvia awakened again with a start. It was dark, strangely so, and there was a breeze. She looked around, siting up to get her bearings, and realized that her cage door was open, as was the door to the shed.

"Irene?" she called softly.

She heard stirring from the cage adjacent to hers, and thought for a moment. Was this a trick? Would the council free them to see if they would run? By running, she may look guilty - but she'd been praying non-stop and God had not shown them her innocence. She thought back to something that Jeremiah had said before, asking her what if there was no God at all? She hesitated, and then put her arms out to stop herself from hitting the bars of her cage, or anything else for that matter, and carefully picked her way out.

She was maneuvering her way around in the dark to Irene's cage, but realized that hers had been opened as well. She called her name again, but still received no answer. Whispering outside drew her attention, and she went back towards the door, pressing her body against the wood to hide herself as best she could in the darker parts of the shadows.

"Irene, come with me, this can all be over," she heard Jeremiah saying.

Irene coughed, and Sylvia closed her eyes - had there been any doubt in her identity before, the cough had proven it wrong. "I said no, Jeremiah. You were content to accuse me of witchcraft, and now you only show regret because your sister became involved as well. You thought you could wield your position on the council to benefit you, but you forget that those men are older and have been in power far longer than you. They used you, not the other way around. And now Sylvia is going to pay the price."

"And you?" he asked darkly.

She laughed. "I've been coughing up blood for days. Tis the consumption. Either they burn me, or I drown in my own blood. Tis all the same to me," she snapped.

"Burn, then," Jeremiah said glibly.

"Brother!" Sylvia called, choosing this moment to reveal herself. She greeted him by grasping him tightly, squeezing him so hard that her arms hurt. "Jeremiah, please, you know these are falsehoods, you must get us out of here. Please, tell them the truth," Sylvia pleaded.

Jeremiah looked at her for a long while, and then leaned in, giving her a kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry, sister dear," he whispered. He lifted his head, then, and yelled loudly, "THE WITCHES ARE ESCAPING!"

Sylvia was frozen in shock, and in horror. "No," she whispered. "No, Jeremiah. NO, PLEASE, YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" She began to screech as men grabbed her from behind, and as she was dragged kicking and screaming back into the dark of the shed, her screeching only grew louder and more insistent. "BROTHER! BROTHER! TELL THEM!" she yowled, like some sort of rabid, cornered animal.

Irene said nothing as she was apprehended, but she did make it a point to cough on Jeremiah, landing a massive glob of blood and spit on his face.

"You're gonna burn in hell for this," she hissed, being jerked away before she could say anything further. Men called for gags to stifle their screaming before they could utter any curses, but it was all well and good - she'd said all she had to say.

[Sylvia Talbot]

A N G E L

Irene had gone; where, Sylvia didn't know. She supposed they had already killed her. As she looked upon the massive stake in the center of town, she could see that the wood in the pile had already been scorched. That and, there was the remnants of a body. She tried not to think about that, though. She closed her eyes tight, asking again for God to save her, but a sharp cuff to her head forced her eyes open again.

"Confess, witch," the man spat.

"Reverend Lockwood, you know me!" Sylvia cried, trying to appeal to his common sense. "I played with your girls when we were young! You married my parents! I cannot be a witch, I am not a witch," she insisted.

"Don't listen to her, Matthew. She's trying to bespell you," another man hissed to the reverend, jerking Sylvia to the side to let the man pass. To prove his point, he stuffed a gag in her mouth.

She was lead up to the stake, hands bound, and then secured with ropes. The ash was still warm at her feet, and she swore she saw a hand half-buried in the rubble. Around her, a crowd was beginning to build. Strangely, her brother was not in it, not that it would have mattered. Jeremiah had chosen his side. She wanted to tell them that it was he who summoned the dark lord to their town, not her, but they'd left the gag in.

"Sylvia Talbot, on this day of the twenty-second of April, in the year of our lord 1693, you stand accused of consorting with the devil, and of witchcraft. Confess, and end this madness. Confess, child, and save your soul!" the reverend commanded.

"Mmf-hmm," she said, and the reverend rolled his eyes and gestured to someone to pull the gag from her mouth.

"I AM NOT A WITCH!" she screamed.

The reverend regarded her for a few more moments, and then nodded to the man who stood at the ready with a torch. "God save your soul, child," he sighed. He turned to the crowd, raising the hand that held the Bible high above his head.

"And let all who are here today witness what happens when one of our flock is lead astray by Satan!"

"Man, you people never fuckin' learn," said a man directly in front of him. The reverend had not noticed him before - mostly because the man had not wanted to be noticed before. He wore dark clothing and a hat that obscured his face, but with his head tipped up, all the reverend could really notice was his eyes. They were of a bright blue and they burned.

"A warlock!" the reverend screamed.

"Christ," the man spat. He raised a hand, and the entire crowd - men, women, children, and some animals - all fell down. He took a step back for a moment, clenching his muscles as that bolt of power had ripped through his body most uncomfortably. He hadn't done a mass feed in a while, and for good reason. He didn't often let loose, but boy when he did - still, it was the quickest way to his goals. Sylvia's screaming brought him back to reality, and he rushed to the stake. The fire had already started, and she was dancing about around the stake, having wiggled through her ropes, but not enough to get out completely. As it stood, she would have some minor injuries, but he wasn't worried about that.

"Come on, I got you," he soothed, loosing the ropes and pulling her from the flames. She was no longer just screaming; her screams had turned into loud sobs that had screams attached to them. He could feel her pain intensely; she was full of emotion. So much so that he thought briefly about having to subdue her with magic to get her to calm down so he could get her out of town. He didn't though, because she had stopped screaming and instead was trying to breathe deeply, now coughing from the smoke that had been previously forcing its way into her lungs.

"We need to leave," he told her, crouching down next to her.

Sylvia looked up, hands and knees in the dirt as she wretched. "Are you an angel?" she asked, rocking back so that she could wipe at her eyes with her arm. She hissed as she realized she'd not escaped unscathed, and surveyed burns as she trembled from pain and shock.

"No," he said, holding his hand out to her. "I can fix that, but we really do need to go. They'll be up again soon."

She stared at him for a moment longer, and then took his hand. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I'm Sylvia."

"Chadwick," he said, giving her a little nod. "Come on, I have a horse not far. We need to put some distance on us. I'm sure I'll hear about this one," he muttered to himself.

She nodded and followed him, though Sylvia had no idea what he'd hear or from who. She knew very little of the world outside of this place, only what her brother had told her. At the brief thought of her brother, she grit her teeth and felt her insides harden to stone. She let out a slow, steady breath behind Chadwick, trying not to bump her burns.

When the arrived where Chad had tied off his horse, he turned to look at her. "Okay, let me see those burns," he instructed.

Sylvia held out her arms, and then tugged up the edges of her dress to show where she'd gotten singed on her calves, too, and Chad made a noise that she did not understand. He took her hands, and told her to close her eyes, and she'd feel a tingle. She had no idea what that meant, either, but she did as she was told, and felt herself suddenly relaxed. She felt as though she'd been surrounded by a gentle white light, like nothing had ever been wrong before, and nothing would be again. She opened her eyes, and the man was grinning at her.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to speak. He helped her onto the horse, and then got on after her, guiding the beast on the path out of town. Finally, she said, "You said you weren't an angel. But, you are."

"Not long before we can stop and rest," was all he responded.

[Sylvia Talbot]

F I G H T

Sylvia had been of two minds about returning to the city. On one hand, it was good to see Chad again. He was her family, as was Gareth, and they had been for as long as she had been made whole by magic. But on the other hand, she knew that the move would also put her closer to the epicenter of Recent Bad Things, and she'd taken a firm stance on keeping out of such affairs in order to maintain her inner peace. She figured it was probably important if she'd been asked back. Chad kept her abreast of most things that would interest her, such as a new girlfriend - and good riddance to the old one, honestly. She hoped this one would work out, or at least end far less horribly than the last one. Sylvia had the same strong beliefs that Gareth held regarding Fae in general, though Chad warned her that Dawn was at least part Fae, he assured her it was negligible. She'd asked how Gareth got along with them, and went with that. He was often her gauge for where she drew and re-drew her tolerance line in the sand - depending on the situation, of course. This one certainly meant she needed to draw it pretty far out. She was very aware of how her dislike of Fae came off, and she made no effort to hide it.

Of course, Chad had under-promised and over-delivered in the case of Dawn. When Sylvia had met she and her sister for the holiday cookie decorating session, a first meeting she abhorred the idea of, by the way, she had been raised hackles despite her friendly outward appearance. She'd expected far more magic than she found, and she was pleasantly surprised that the girls were latent at best. Sure, there were tinges of their magic all over, but it was their living space and that was to be expected. It wasn't the kind that she was used to, though. They'd been raised human, had a healthy mix of human blood, and at best seemed mischief makers. At worst, well - they were either Pixie-type or Muse-type, and that could potentially cause problems, but she couldn't see any evidence of them using that craft to lull anyone around them in, so. She'd just watch the situation carefully and make a decision further on down the road.

The Seelie, though. Sylvia hoped she'd catch her in an unattended alley someday.

Dinner a Gareth's had gone well; Nicolas was stealing the show by telling stories over wine. Sylvia could only take so much of his narcissism, though, and excused herself after the third version of something for which she was present had begun anew with a completely different embellishment. She went into the kitchen to wash her hands, and found Jillian in there, a thousand-yard stare on her face as she looked into the fridge.

"See anything you like?" Sylvia prompted.

Jillian blinked, the voice snapping her back to reality. She closed the fridge and turned to look at Sylvia, a wry smile on her face. "I was a million miles away," she admitted.

Sylvia laughed. "I could tell," she acknowledged. "Of course, Nicolas' stories often send me into orbit, too, so you can hardly be blamed." She went to the sink to complete the task she'd originally gone in there for, and as she dried her hands off on the towel, she noticed that Jill lingered. Maybe it wasn't just Nic's stories after all, then. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, her voice still light and sweet.

Jill looked like she was about to say something, but she made a face and shook her head. "No, just unsure how many times he can tell the same story with a different ending. And why they're so captive to it," she answered. She noticed Sylvia's eyes narrow every so slightly, and she knew that the woman didn't believe her, but she'd roll with it. She realized it probably wasn't best to confide in the third Triste from this group. She didn't trust that something she said in confidence wouldn't get back to Gareth, and though she would mostly be right, Sylvia had been known to keep a secret or two. Of course, the whole point of being good at it was that nobody knew that, so.

"Ah, yes. They're humouring him. They go way back. Like, way. I can't comprehend that space of time, to be honest, so I don't try," she said with a laugh. The remark seemed innocent, but it was double-edged: one hand, making a jape about how old they were, but on the other, reminding Jillian that while she played with all these things, she wasn't one of them. Still, the way she smiled and laughed about it made it hard to tell, and it wasn't something Jillian would think about until much later. "He'll run out of stories eventually, then he'll just eat everything in your home and leave."

"He already eats everything here," Jill said dryly.

"Some things never change," she chirped. "I'm gonna get back. Should I tell them you'll be long?" she asked, gesturing toward the door to the dining room.

"Ah, no, I'm right behind you. I may as well grab the dessert while I'm in here," she said. She turned toward the fridge as Sylvia nodded and left, then made a face into the icebox as she reached in for the pie. She really didn't feel like listening to Nicolas for another two hours, hopefully this would shut them up.

Later, on the drive home, which was mostly quiet anyways, Sylvia suddenly reached over and turned off the music. Chad glanced over at her, arching a brow. "Do you take issue with old Zep suddenly?" he asked. He looked back at the road, but he was definitely interested in whatever had prompted that.

"I don't like her," she said bluntly.

"Whoa, what?" Chad said. Her answer caught him off guard, and he pressed the brake a little harder than he meant to as they rolled to a red light, causing Sylvia to give him a Look as she leaned forward from the force. "Sorry - that's really surprising, though! What's your reason?"

"Well," she began. She stopped short as she realized that she couldn't quite put a finger on it. It was everything about her, but one couldn't just say "I don't like the look of her" and expect to be taken seriously, could they? Not in present company, that was for sure. "The way the whole hit on Bacchus came about," she said finally. Yeah, that had been explained prior to dinner, just to catch her up to speed, but she felt like there were details missing.

"What about it?" he asked. "I'm not playing stupid here," he said, raising his hand defensively to stop her, because he heard her open her mouth. "I just want to know what you think."

"Ah, hm. Okay, good, because I would have called you on that bullshit," she acknowledged. "It's just - why on earth wouldn't she have just told Gareth what happened? I mean, first of all, she kept going, which speaks volumes to ego. None of those vampires are safe, and I don't care what safe passage speech anyone gives me, you don't believe that shit, ever. She's such a historian and expert on antiquities, but she thought she'd be okay? Come on," she said, slapping her thigh for emphasis.

"You're sounding dangerously victim blamey right now, Syl," Chad warned her. "We're experts on a lot and we still get into bad situations from time to time. It happens to everyone."

Sylvia shrugged. "Sure, Chad. But you know what I don't do? I don't walk into hell on an open invite and think I'm coming back out."

"Okay, so you don't like her because you think she should have been psychic," Chad countered. "Reasonable." The sarcasm in his voice was palpable.

"No, Chad, I don't like her because she 'isn't psychic'," she said, quoting him in a demeaning voice. "I don't like her because intelligence and wisdom are two different stats and clearly, you've all confused the two. She is hip to all things magic, got it. But she was still not somehow smart enough to apply everything she knows and understand that taking a hit out on an Ancient vampire has some blowback? No, I don't buy it. She's either too stupid for her own good and she's going to get Gareth involved in something awful, or she took a calculated risk and she willingly summed whatever shitstorm is on the horizon. Either way, not good."

"Jesus, Sylvia," Chad breathed. "Where the hell do you get this gloomy belief that everyone is either stupid or evil from? It's certainly not from me," he said, sounding like a parent.

"I'm telling you Chad, she's got a dark side. You guys might not see it, but I do." She shook her head.

"So do you, Sylvia," Chad shot back.

"So do you," she countered. Direct hit. She could see by the way he tilted his head and set his jaw that he didn't intend for her to respond back in kind quite like that, so she took the opportunity for his irritated silence to continue. "My point is," she said, lowering her voice and softening it considerably, "is that I don't want any of us to have to resort to using it because some human is either very bad at predicting cause and effect, or very good at it."

They were quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, before Chad muttered, "You don't get this from me. You know where you get it? Gareth."

"I'm just saying," she began, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"All RIGHT, I get it. And - you're not wrong," he admitted. "It came up, believe me. Nicolas came for the holidays, but he's sticking around until we're sure there wasn't any critical fallout. Which, I'm sure there won't be, but if there was, we can handle it. And we'll deal with it. She won't do anything like that again, though, I'm pretty sure."

"How sure?" Sylvia asked, glancing at him.

He made a face. "Uh, about sixty-four percent sure," he guessed, shrugging. "Listen, I'm pretty sure. She's not a bad person, Sylvia. She just has some unchecked anger issues."

"Wow, I'm surprised you're not dating her," she commented dryly.

"I - okay, you know what? No more talking. We're going to listen to Zoso and be quiet, because I don't feel like arguing, and you're pissing me off." He meant it, too, she could tell from the tone in his voice - and the way he pressed the unmute button on the car stereo. She'd never seen such an aggressive button press before, and she'd seen him lose at Mario Kart.

"Whatever, Chad. I'm just trying to look out for you," she sighed.

He didn't respond, because he was a fucking psychologist and already knew that was just bait for the next argument. He'd have to actually give some space to what she was saying, though, because she wasn't wrong, and she was an outsider to the situation - which gave her both heavy bias toward not-Jill and also toward seeing a different picture. And, to be fair, he'd never seen her get jealous before, so he knew that wasn't it. Still, she did have tendency to shoulder blame on people in bad situations, and that was definitely because she didn't like to think of herself as a victim. It was more complex than he had the ability to handle at the moment, at any rate.

Sylvia stared out the window, and unlike Chad, she had said her final words and absolved herself of the situation completely. She'd warned them. The instant she saw fallout, she'd leave. Well, probably. She was all about suffering from the consequences of your own action, but it definitely depended on how big the repercussions were. Hopefully, nothing. She just didn't feel like that was the case.

Of course, somewhere on the other side of the city, Evan was about to be hit by an SUV, so they were all the worst kind of wrong.