(no subject)

[bloodandflowers]

Kell sags against the thick stone wall of the Basin. Overhead, the ruby waters of the Isle slip endlessly by, and around him, the unnatural dark Kell had summoned begins to shiver.

"As Anasae," Kell says into the darkness. Dispel. The smoke twists into nothing as if it was never there, and Kell draws a deep breath.

"Did you kill them all?" Rhy would ask if he were here, and Kell would nod and step back to reveal the ruined remains of his training dummies. But Rhy has yet to find him today, and Kell takes another breath, closing his eyes for a moment to listen for his brother's heartbeat. Beneath the brand on his chest, the magic that binds them rises and flares, and beneath Kell's heartbeat he feels another, its thump steady and even. It means Rhy is calm, at least for now. He would feel excitement in his breast if Rhy were coming to drag him off again, back into the bowels of Red London to chase another adventure.

Kell grimaces. As if provoking Red London's criminal element could be called adventure. His ribs still ache with the hits Rhy had taken only the day before, his head foggy with Rhy's hangover. Where Kell would fight the memories that haunt them both with magic and blood, Rhy would do it with his princely fists and copious wine, and the bond that binds their lives together means that Rhy's pain is Kell's. Reaching up, Kell tugs on his own hair hard enough to sting, smirking faintly when he feels Rhy's heart skip in response.

"Sorry," he whispers into the dark, even if he isn't, and begins to clean his hands of blood. He's used a lot of magic today, and Kell's head swims as he tucks his silver blade back against his wrist. He needs food. He needs...

Kell closes his eyes.

Something more than this palace that feels so much like a prison.

You could still run. The thought echoes between his ears with a voice that sounds like Lila's, and Kell shakes his head to dispel it. Lila escaped, and Kell stayed. For Rhy, he'll stay forever.

Mostly clean now, save for the sheen of sweat on his skin, Kell raises his right hand, the cut across his palm still wet from training, and presses it to an X drawn in blood on the wall. "As tascen," he says, transfer, but when the door opens up and Kell steps through it to the other side, it's not the lavish chambers of the prince he walks into.

It's onto the wooden gangway of a port, and before him looms a gray and wintry sea. Kell turns a circle, but the palace has disappeared, without blood or command to see it gone. Kell’s heart stutters and begins to pound.

This is no London, Red, Grey or White.

This is a different world entirely.

Comments

[thebloodtraitor]

Strange as it might be, Sirius finds some comfort in this weather, the dreary clouds and drearier haze of drizzle so much like that of the city he'll never see again. Even if he were to return somehow, knowing what he does of what's to become of him, there's very little chance he'd see London again for years and years, his view relegated to a four bare walls and a Dementor's gaping maw.

So he'll enjoy this while he can, and take in something wholly unlike home while he's at it.

Sirius hasn't seen a beach in years, not since he, Lily, and James went on holiday in Brighton. That was just before the war really started, before all thoughts of day trips became little more than far off dreams. It'd been a nicer, much warmer experience, but this has some level of charm to it as well. Somewhere.

Wind whips at his hair and he hunches into his coat, considers casting a warming spell more than once, but mentally talks himself out of it each time. It feels a bit like cheating, if he's honest. He's here to experience the elements in all their glory, it's no good to arrange things to his comfort.

He's just stepping onto a wooden walkway when a figure apparates right before him in a rather smart, black coat that, for the moment, is entirely dry.

"Ah," Sirius says, stopping short in surprise. He notes the expression of pure confusion on the man's face and lets out a breath of a laugh, "Not where you were planning to arrive, then. Go on, give it another go."

[bloodandflowers]

Kell turns sharply at the voice, finding another man not far from him. They're of an age, but that's not what stops Kell in his tracks. Everything in this world is different, the static air smacking of magicless Gray London, but the man before him is magical. Kell can feel it thrumming within him.

He opens his mouth, but the first words to make it to his lips should be the only ones he needs. Give it another go the man had said in the royal tongue. Kell grips the Red London lin in his pocket and presses his bloody hand to the closest wall.

"As Travars."

But nothing happens.

Kell's eyes flick back to the man. He can feel no force of magic holding him, yet the fact remains that Kell is somewhere he doesn't want to be, and there's only one person here to blame for it.

"What have you done?"

[thebloodtraitor]

The man presses a bloodied hand to the wall adorned with paper flyers and speaks in a language Sirius has never heard. There's an air of expectation just before the man's eyes land on Sirius's again, or perhaps eye is a better description as one socket is nothing but black.

"What have I done?" Sirius replies, lips curling into a scowl to match that of the man before him. "I've just gone out for a stroll, mate. You're the one who's just popped up. What have you done to your hand?"

[bloodandflowers]

The man looks innocent enough, but while he has no talent for it himself, Kell knows how easily others may lie. Still, he feels nothing from him that would stop him from travelling between worlds.

"As Travars," he says again, recalling when he'd pleaded with Red London to let him in when he'd stood bleeding in Gray, wounded and desperate. "Please," he adds in a quiet voice, but the wall remains as firm as ever, and Kell staggers back.

Again the man's words filter back to him. Not where you were planning to arrive. Kell turns, regarding the stranger again. "You know what's happening, even if you haven't done it yourself. Tell me."

[thebloodtraitor]

The words are repeated along with a plea and Sirius watches both the wall and the man, curious more than anything. Once again, nothing happens and the man looks to Sirius again, his single blue eye accusing.

The black one too, actually, now that Sirius really looks at it.

"I know you're not where you planned to be," he says, refusing to budge under the man's glare or hold up a hand of surrender. "And I know you won't get there however much you may try. But, by all means, continue trying if you'd like," he adds with a wave of one hand before crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't let me stop you."

[bloodandflowers]

Kell's expression darkens, and with a jerk of his chin the red swoop of his hair flies fully back, exposing the jet black of his right eye completely. Normally this blunt show of magic is all it takes, but something in the man's stance tells him he's not as cowed as Kell would like him to be.

His fingers flex against the wall. The doors must work. They always have before, Kell only needs to command. Magic is chaos, so you must be calm. Are you calm, Kell? But Tieren's weathered voice gives way to Holland's, and Kell shudders. You are either magic's master, or its slave.

Drawing the knife from its sheath at his wrist, Kell turns his arm wrist up and slashes, opening the vein so that his red blood arcs high, painting a strip up the wall. "As travars," Kell says in a hard voice, and when nothing happens a third time the tenuous hold he has on his own nerves breaks. Summoning wind with a thought, Kell pushes a powerful gust against the stranger's back to draw him closer, intent on terrifying the truth from him if he will not give it freely.

At least he means to, but with the first puff of wind, Kell's knees buckle, and he finds himself kneeling on the boardwalk, gray faced and shaking as he continues to bleed. The air he means to control slips through his numbed fingers, and Kell blinks through the dark spots dancing before his eyes. Too much magic. Too much blood.

"Sanct."

[thebloodtraitor]

It all happens very quickly, the man drawing a blade and slashing his wrist, deep enough to send a spray of blood against the wall as he says that word again, harsher this time. A great gust of wind pushes Sirius forward at the same time, close enough for him to get an even better look at the man's eerily black eye, close enough to feel the force of this man's power, however violently impotent it may be at the moment.

Instinctively, Sirius pulls out his wand, readying for a fight, a defensive spell on the very tip of his tongue. Before he can utter a word, the man is crumpling, shaking as blood spills dark across the wood at his feet.

"Fuck," Sirius mutters and, despite his better judgment, drops to his knees and grabs the man's bleeding arm. "Vulnera Sanentur," he murmurs under his breath, dragging the tip of his wand across the mess of blood at the man's wrist. Then again, "Vulnera Sanentur," up the same path, drizzling, misting rain clearing the blood awayand skin slowly reforming. "Vulnera Sanentur," he breathes one last time, still cradling the man's arm with his other hand as the blood flow stops, skin mending fully over the clean gash.

Sirius's hair clings to his face with wet when he looks up again to meet the man's eyes, his heart still thundering in his chest. "Is this your magic?" he asks with no small amount of judgment in his tone. "What in the bloody hell, mate?" And to think people call him dramatic.

[bloodandflowers]

The man is right in front of him, holding a rod of some kind to Kell's wrist. Fearing some sort of trap, Kell tries to pull away, but his body won't obey him, and through his sudden panic he realizes that his wrist has begun to heal.

Some of the cotton clears from between his ears, and Kell listens to the words spoken over his knitting flesh. It's a spell, but none he's ever heard before. Kings, where is he? Kell looks up from his wrist, blinking into the drizzle as it falls between him and this stranger.

"Blood magic," he says. "It's never failed me. Please." Kell's voice is smaller this time, entreating. "Where am I?"

[thebloodtraitor]

Sirius releases the man's arm, confident there'll be no further bleeding for the moment. The fight seems to have gone out of him as surely as the blood, something in his quiet and genuine plea nestling itself beneath Sirius's breastbone.

"You're in a city called Darrow," he explains, carefully slipping his wand back inside his jacket. "It's dreadfully boring, I'm afraid, populated by an astounding number of Americans and full of the ugliest building you'll ever see. Not to mention the fashion," he adds with a shake of his head.

Carefully, he rises to his feet and holds a hand out. "Do you think you can stand?"

[bloodandflowers]

"Yes," Kell answers, too stubborn to remain on the ground however he feels. He takes the man's hand and manages to rise. "We are in the Americas, then?" he asks, for he has heard the Georges speak of them more than once, George II with wistfulness, George III with anger. The distance of an ocean should be no obstacle to his blood magic, but Kell knows better than to try again so soon.

The sound of the sea is strong here on the docks, but Kell can hear another roar, and beyond the short, squatty buildings near the shore Kell can see far taller ones rising. He's never seen such innovation in Grey London's world before. "Do the others here have magic as you have?"

[thebloodtraitor]

The man takes his hand, still shaky as he pushes to his feet, and Sirius holds on for a moment longer to ensure he's steady once more.

His use of the Americas is interesting, but Sirius reacts with only an arched brow. "There are others here with magic, yes," he says, still watching the stranger carefully. Perhaps its the massive blood loss, but he seems a good deal smaller now than only moments ago, despite having an inch or two on Sirius. There's a vulnerability to him, like a lost pup.

"However, It isn't all the same magic," he says, feeling oddly compelled to speak the truth as well as he knows it. "There are wizards and mages from dozens of worlds, it seems, all with different magical uses and practices. And this place itself, this city, seems to have a magic all it's own. And it has a rather sinister taste, I'm afraid." He nods at the wall, still violently smeared with blood. "As you've seen."

[bloodandflowers]

Kell gazes at the wall, macabre now with his blood painted over the colorful notes pinned there. He could summon the water that falls all around them to clean it, but he should save his strength, surely.

His companion speaks to more worlds than four, but it could be possible. And it is not so strange for a city to have its own source of power, thinks Kell, recalling the ruby red Isle that runs through his own city with a pang. "Who rules here?" he asks, trying to recall George II's mutterings. "Lord Washington?" That seems wrong, but Kell had never cared much for Gray London's goings on. He stops, realizing all at once that he doesn't know this man's name.

"I'm Kell."

[thebloodtraitor]

"Washington?" Sirius echoes with a rough, surprised laugh. Though his Muggle history studies had been largely confined to British and European, the name Washington is one he recognizes immediately. A general in the colonial rebellion and eventual first ruler of, as this man had stated, the Americas.

The people here do come from all sorts of places, and all sorts of times, it turns out.

"Oh, mate, you've got a couple centuries to catch up on. I'm working on three decades myself; it was nineteen eighty-one where I came from. Twenty sixteen here, or so I'm told." He smiles then, wide and bright, holding out his arms is presentation. "Welcome to the future. Oh, I'm Sirius, by the way. Sirius Black. Don't ask me too many questions -- I've only been here a month myself and I'm still uncertain how I've lasted that long. I can walk you to a decent pub, though. Buy you a pint."

[bloodandflowers]

Twentysixteen. Nearly two hundred years stand between Kell and the Grey London he knew, the Grey London he barely knew, when he considers how well he'd known the others. Kell sucks in a breath and doesn't let himself think of home, not yet, if it is closed to him, if Rhy is. He folds a hand briefly over the scar on his chest and tries to listen for him, shoving ruthlessly down on a stab of panic when nothing replies.

Instead, Kell watches this Sirius Black's display, smiling despite himself for the showmanship. With his handsome face and charm, Sirius' form echoes Rhy back to him, and Kell finds himself nodding. "A pint of ale?" he asks, meaning to offer to buy the next, but he realizes his few coins will carry no weight here.

[thebloodtraitor]

"A pint of anything you'd like," Sirius replies, watching as the man rubs at his chest before, the worry on his face melting, if only briefly, to a smile when he meets Sirius's eyes once more. "There's no firewhiskey here, I'm afraid, or at least not that I've found, but the Muggle ale is fine enough. Provided you try that stuff that doesn't taste like piss."

Sirius has yet to try every last pub in Darrow, but he's been to a fair few in his short time here so far and has started a mental list of the ones worth revisiting.

He turns to look at the bloodied wall again, considering. "Probably should clean up this mess," he says before glancing at the man -- Kell -- out the corner of his eye and grinning slightly. "Then again, I like the idea of it causing some intrigue. Must you use blood every time? Or is it merely for show?"

It is quite a show, Sirius will say that.

[bloodandflowers]

"I will trust in your judgment," says Kell for the ale, marking nearly half of what Sirius says for further questioning when he gets his bearings in this place.

His gaze follows Sirius' again to the wall. "To travel, I must use my blood," he admits, frowning. He'd decided not to clean it himself, but he's already shown weakness here. This Darrow might not feel hostile just yet, but Kell must keep his guard up, to show strength as he would in White London lest he be seen as prey.

"But for water - " he murmurs, gathering the water falling from the sky to hover in a sheet next to the wall, "And fire - " Kell heats it with summoned fire, glad for the salt in the air that helps to scrub when he sends the steaming water forward, striking the still wet blood from the wall with seeming ease. It makes his head spin, but Kell gives no outward sign, turning back to Sirius after.

"Will that suffice?"

[thebloodtraitor]

It is, without a doubt, a most impressive display of magical aptitude.

Sirius has witnessed, and been victim to, quite a bit of magic since his arrival here, all of it different from his own in way or another, but he hasn't seen so magnificent a performance before now. He lets out a surprised, delighted laugh as the wall of steaming water crashes into the bloodied wall, sending droplets of red spraying and sliding free.

"Oh, that is brilliant!" he says, turning to Kell with wide eyes. "And without a wand! Pity you need blood to apparate, though, that seems bloody inconvenient, pun intended."

He nods down the boardwalk then, motioning for Kell to follow. "Let me buy you that pint and you can show me a few more of your tricks. And I suppose we should try to figure out where it is you'll be staying. But alcohol first."

[bloodandflowers]

Kell nods, reminded again of Rhy's easy enthusiasm. Perhaps that's why it's so easy to follow this Sirius Black. Well, that and the readiness and skill with which he'd healed Kell's cut arm.

"Your magic is rather impressive itself," Kell tells him, falling into step. "Most in my world cannot heal as you can, wanded - " he says, understanding now what the rod had been, " - or otherwise. Travel with magic is also rare there," he adds, understating his unique situation quite a lot. "Few can travel as I can through blood magic. But in yours, you apparate?" he asks, repeating the new word.

[thebloodtraitor]

They fall into step easily, the air still wonderfully dreary as Sirius leads them off the boardwalk. He stuffs his hands into his pockets as he glances over at Kell, squinting against the drizzle to get an even better look at the single dark eye and the attractive face its set within and then grinning wide at the praise.

"Many can, yes. It takes quite a bit of skill and practice and the use of a wand to achieve," he says even though that's not entirely true, "but, yes. And we've a number of healing spells -- I only used the one best suited for a bleeding flesh wound." And one he'd learned and perfected only in the last year or two, a heavily necessary spell while in the midst of a war. "Do you not ever heal yourself after you've finished your blood magic or are you all but covered in scars?"

[bloodandflowers]

"An Antari's blood does not work on his own body," Kell explains, "Though I can heal others. But I have salves to help, and I heal faster than a human. My scars are few," he says carefully and without bitterness.

He keeps his gaze forward, but Kell can feel Sirius' wandering, drawn as inevitably as everyone else's to his right eye. "I was born with it. It marks me as a blood magician. I take it there are none in your own world?"

[thebloodtraitor]

"If there are, I've not heard of them," Sirius replies, feeling no tinge of shame for having been caught staring. Kell hardly seems self-conscious of it, though he also doesn't sound overly smug for his abilities. Instead, it's stated as simple fact, his question of their presence in Sirius's world a mere curiosity.

In truth, the man seems remarkably calm given his situation, his previous theatrics notwithstanding. Sirius, by his memory, had been much more distraught. But then, Kell hasn't been greeted by his teenaged godson and news of his two best friends, dead due to his own poor judgment.

"It's a fairly distinct mark," he says. "Are there many of your kind?"

[bloodandflowers]

"No," says Kell, surprising himself with the admission, but perhaps it doesn't matter here, what and who he is. It's a dizzying thought, and for a moment Kell's thoughts run along Sirius' own. He doesn't truly believe himself trapped in this place. His magic was not enough at the dock, but it will be. It must be. But what would it be like to stay, unfettered by palace walls and rules?

"There were two," he continues. "Now there is only myself." Kell reaches to arrange his wet hair over his eye once more. It doesn't seem to bother Sirius, and for that he's grateful, but as the crowd around them thickens he feels more and more heads begin to turn. "In your home, the magical and magicless exist alongside each other?" he guesses. "Your kind, and Muggle?"

[thebloodtraitor]

Kell brushes his hair back across his eye as they walk, wet strands hiding it from view once again. It seems a well-practiced motion, smooth and efficient, and Sirius can't help but wonder why he would hide a mark of such power. He's garnering quite a few stares from the people in the streets, it's true, but he could decimate any number of these people with barely a thought, Sirius is certain. Why the care for their small thoughts?

"Muggles, yes," Sirius replies. "Those without magical abilities. And we co-exist to a certain extent, but there are rules. We're not to interfere with their lives if it can be helped and they're not to know of us. We can live in their spaces, but we also have our own, set apart. Where you're from, everyone is magical, then? It's just you blood folk who are truly special. Tell me, can you do anything else with it? Or only heal and transport?"

[bloodandflowers]

It's a fascinating thought, and Kell can't help thinking of how it must have been before the doors between all the worlds were sealed, the magical and the magicless living together in the same space. It makes him sad for Londons Grey and White all over again, but humanity had done well enough without magic in Grey. In many ways, they were far more innovative than Red London who could simply magic anything they wished.

"I am glad you can coexist," he says honestly. "I think it must be better that way." Kell turns his head, studying Sirius for a moment before deciding, "When my strength is recovered, I will show you whatever you wish. But," adds Kell, daring a smile, "You must do the same."

[thebloodtraitor]

"Oh, must I?" Sirius says, grinning at the small curve to Kell's lips and wondering how often the man smiles at all. "We'll have to schedule in at least several days, in that case. I have quite the repertoire. I do hope you can keep up."

It's a tease, of course. Partially. From what Sirius has seen already, he knows this man is powerful, but Sirius is equally aware of his own prowess.

And, if nothing else, he can pull out Padfoot.

He's still smiling as they reach the door of the tavern and Sirius holds the door for Kell before following him inside. "Are you from England then?" he asks as they head toward a table near the far wall. "Or from some other world entirely, yet somehow blessed with the proper manner of speaking like some others I've met here."