I Dunno, It Just Crossed My Mind And It Became A Drawing X3 Here Is A Lady Of The Belle Epoque, With

Hey, remember some time ago about an alternative PL scenario in which Bronev and Raymond raise Desmond together and want to take down Targent ? Weeeell 👇👇👇

Chapter 1 : Unexpected encounter

The alarm was buzzing like a tolling bell in the corridors. Two silhouettes running, out of breath. Their were holding hands as if Hell was after them and as if their touch was the only thing keeping them alive. And the bell ringing, again, again, screaming at them. “Don’t give up, we’ll find the way !” But no answer, except a panting voice, exhausted by their mad run. “I-I can’t… Please, dear, run away...” “We’ll get away together, darling, come on, don’t give up !”

A dead-end. They were trapped. Again. Dark figures behind them, holding guns and wearing uniforms. A shot. A scream. “RACHEL !”

Leon woke up abruptly, jolting from his desk covered in papers and books, causing a few sheets of paper to fly away. He took the time to remember where he was and when. Alright, a little house away from the centre of London, three years after this awful nightmare, nightmare that was, in fact, a memory.

With a tired and frustrated sigh, he took his face in his hands and drew a decent breath before taking off his glasses and putting back on the desk the flying papers. He closed his books, looked at the clock on the wall and sighed again. Four in the morning. Wonderful. Again he wouldn’t sleep much tonight.

–Dad ?…

The archaeologist looked up with a slight jolt and stared at the young boy with brown hair and ruby eyes who was waiting at the door, holding tight a little plushy rabbit in his hands. His face winced with concern and he slowly came closer from his father who took him in his arms to hold him and hug him, trying to be comforting.

–I didn’t know you were awake, my boy… You should go back to bed.

–But… I heard you scream mommy’s name…

The man’s heart skipped a few beats but he did his best to keep on smiling and stared at the youngest with some tender eyes, taking his son away from the desk and from this bloody room to bring him back to his tiny bed, in his room full of books and little creative games, some piece of metal and woods were laying on the ground. Nah, he would ask his son to clean it all later. Tonight wasn’t easy for them both. Once the boy was comfortably under his blanket, resting against that big fluffy pillow of his, the oldest smiled a bit and patted his hair.

–Now, you have to go back to sleep… Tomorrow, I’ll have to go down to London, you know what to do right ?

The young boy grew worried again, almost hiding his face behind his plushy rabbit.

–Are you sure I can’t come with you, dad ? he muttered. I don’t want to stay alone in there… w-what if they come back ? What if they got you in London ?! Please, I’ll be silent and discrete, I swear-

–Hershel, please, calm down my boy… Hush now…

Leon took the time to breath and sighed while shaking his head.

–They won’t find us there… You’re my son and I work at the tea shop down the street. I am always very careful when we have to move somewhere else and I don’t want you to get involved. You are safe here, I promise. And if anything, you go down to the shop and ask the nice lady here to keep you with her until I come back. No one, not even the Birds, are going to look for some herbalist in a small English village. We are no longer the Bronev family. For everyone else, we’re Desmond and Nikolaï Sycamore, remember ?

He kissed his forehead and smiled a bit more.

–Do you remember what I told you when I chose this name, “Desmond Sycamore”, among any other name ?

The boy discretely whipped a tear from his eye and nodded slowly.

–Yeah… You said that there was a tree named like this in the Bible… it represents comfort, refuge and abundance. And… About “Desmond”…

–… I said it was an old English name, with German roots, meaning “valuable, courageous and protected”. And when I chose these names, it was indubitable. I would make sure they would protect you, and I will protect you too, my boy…

The oldest chuckled a bit and hugged him again while the youngest was starting to smile, slowly, while hugging his father back. This was a bittersweet feeling indeed but it was worth it, because at some point it was sweet and less bitter.

–… I miss mom and Theo…

The hug tightened a bit.

–… I know, my boy… I know… But for now, you have to go back to sleep. And, if you do your lessons well, I’ll bring you a new book from London tomorrow. Sounds like a good agreement to you ?

This was enough to bring a big bright smile back on the boy’s lips. He wasn’t an idiot, his father was trying to distract himself from grim thoughts to make sure he would fall asleep quickly and have a good night. But he also knew that the situation couldn’t be changed and he was happy to at least have his father by his side. So, not to worry him any further, he nodded and kissed his father’s cheek before almost diving into his pillow to find the courage to sleep. Leon smiled too and made sure he was comfortable before leaving the room as silently as possible after having left a soft light in the corner of the room to look after his boy’s sleep and to keep nightmares away. Once alone in the corridor, the man sighed again and anxiously went back to his own room to go to sleep, but for sure it wasn’t going to be easy. “I am sorry Rachel… Our family is like a broken glass… But as long as I live, I’ll protect our dear boy. And I’m going to make sure they never use that legacy to hurt him.”

“Whatever the cost may be.”

Leon had become incredibly good at lying. The more the time passed and the easier it was getting because he was feeling less remorseful for the lies he had to make up to keep his son and himself out of troubles. So when he said to Desmond that he was going to London to buy him a book and to go buy groceries, it wasn’t a complete lie but it was enough of a lie to be mentioned. In fact, he was not here only to buy food and books, he was also there to drink a bit and to listen to what was going on in the capital city of England.

There was, in the East End, a few very good places to be when you were desperate enough to use questionable means to achieve questionable goals, and so it was the perfect place to learn some crucial informations if you needed to know, for example, if some Birds of ill omen were about to go somewhere, or what they were currently interested in. Also, Leon still had a few friends in town ready to help him. To find these informations, Dorset Street was the best –or worst- place to go. And, in Dorset street, there was a Scottish pub, the “Trì drongairean daoine”, also called, in proper English, “Three drunk men”. Here, there was a few men always ready to talk too much and to ask very few questions.

The ex archaeologist entered, sit at the counter and asked for a single malt whiskey, before staring at the glass half-empty in front of him and drinking him in a matter of seconds. The barman said nothing and went to serve other customers. Leon knew drinking was only bringing problems on the table and it was, at best, only a temporary solution. But he needed some strength before going back to his son and pretending he was doing fine. He missed Rachel, he missed Theodore, he missed their little house, their little life, and he knew it was all his fault. If he had not been so stubborn about finding more evidence about the Azran, then nothing would have happened.

While he was busy blaming himself for every unfortunate things happening to his family, some Scots playing cards were beginning to get agitated at a table, not so far from him. They were speaking some weird dialect Leon didn’t understand and they seemed to be quarrelling about something. One of them seemed to be the target of some accusations, judging by the fingers pointing at him angrily. The man didn’t really catch Leon’s attention, at least not until he bumped into him while trying to escape the quarrelling table. The archaeologist grunted and looked at the stranger with angry eyes. Fuck, couldn’t he even drink and drown into whiskey in peace ?

–Hey, careful ! No one taught you how to properly apology ?

The Scottish man turned around and stared at the little man in front of him with merely an annoyed look. A beige pullover, jeans, old shoes, long face, some thick hair tied as much as he could in a ponytail resting on the neck, ruby eyes, the beginning of a moustache and the attitude of a man who just lost his job or something.

On the contrary, the Scottish lad was quite peculiar. Leon glared at him but didn’t forget to notice a few details. That guy smelled fuel, and whiskey, and he was wearing some leather clothes and heavy boots. Probably he had a motorbike, if he hadn’t gambled it already. Strange look, his hair was thick too, despite being shorter than his and brushed to the back. His eyes were dark, almost black, and he barely had some goatee growing on his chin. But, even if he was annoyed, there seemed to be a mischievous smile hanging at the corner of his lips.

–Apologies ? A’m sairy, can ye say that again ? Leuk, a’m not in the mood fer this, so ferget ‘bout it, right pale ?

Leon frowned and stood up while crossing his arms.

–Quit your bullshit, I’m not having a good day so now you’re going to apologise, “pale”.

–Oh, feck off ! A’m not havin’ a guid day either so go get drunk som’here else.

But then, while they were almost going to pick a fight over some damn apology, another voice came to their ears and made them stop to turn to the source of the noise.

–Hey, you !

And then, when they saw these two men in blue/grey uniforms with their hat and sunglasses, they both opened wide eyes and exclaimed the same.

–Fuck/ Feck !

They jolted and looked at each other, not knowing who these men were addressing to.

–Ye know these clawns ?!

–How do you know these guys ?!

The agents in uniforms were already making their way inside the pub, so the man in leather coat and the ex archaeologist decided it was better not to stay and they quickly fleed by the other entrance, momentarily allies because of having had to face the same enemy. They blocked the door with some old pipe lying in the alley and they took the time to look at each other again. The Scottish man was more than surprised.

–Fer feck's sake, pale ! Ye're a damn legal grave-digger ?!

–What the fuck is this supposed to mean ?! I'm a herbalist !

But the other one shook his head, grabbed Leon's wrist and was quick to go in the street, looking for some way to escape that place without being followed by the agents trying to break free from the pub. He then came closer to a red and black motorbike, took the keys out of his pockets and made the motor roar. The man with ruby eyes frowned and broke free from his grip.

–You look like everything but an archaeologist, looking at the way you're being such an asshole with people.

The other one sighed, frustrated, and did a little curtsy, mockingly.

–Oh, A didn't know only British archaeologists were geid with their manners ! Now, can we stop bickerin' and get outta here ? If Targent is there, we're doomed ! Now come on, A take ye out o' town and we part. OK?

–No, not OK ! How did you-

But it was no time for questions because the agents were getting out of the pub and they were actively looking around to search and find the person they had spotted, and neither the Scottish man nor Leon knew which of them they were after. The herbalist sighed angrily and got behind the biker who was already ready to put the max distance between them and these birds of ill omen.

–You better ride fast because once we're far away, I swear I'll-

But the face of his son imposed itself to his mind and he gasped as they were heading away from Dorset Street.

–Oh no no no, Hershel-

–A call meself Ray !

–Not you ! My son ! If they follow me, they'll...

Said "Ray" sighed but looked into the mirrors. The agents were way behind them, and the man seemed to be in troubles. He sighed again. Fuck, this was supposed to be a cool day, he was supposed to bluff and trick people while winning at cards and drinking whiskey. Dammit.

–... OK, hold on tight and tell me where to go, we'll heid there. A've got no Bentley but trust me I'll go 90 miles per hour in this bloody city as long as we're far away from these birds. What's yer name, sassenach ?

Leon didn't want to trust that man but he had no choice. Right now the only thing worth it was going back home as soon as possible and leave again. For a better place. A place without any birds.

–... What makes you think I can trust you ?

The man sighed and used his brakes to stop the motorbike, with little to no care for the circulation, causing Leon to gasp under the surprise and almost fall off the motorbike.

-Listen, pale, A know Targent is lo'kin after us, both of us, ye were involved, A was too and now we need to flee. Ye don't trust me ? Guid, then get down me motorbike and I'll disappear. And guid luck with yer lad, sassenach !

Leon took the time to think about it. He couldn't just pretend everything was fine because it wasn't, he could put Hershel in danger if he was bringing a stranger to their house. However, they both seemed to be in trouble anyway and Targent would not abandon so easily. A danger against another bigger one. Or, to be more precise, choosing between the plague or the cholera.

–... you better not swear in front of my boy. Once we're there, we part. Fine by you ?

The Scottish man had a grin on his face and chuckled a bit before accelerating once again to go back on the road.

–Fine by me ! Now, what's yer name ?

-...Nikolaï.

-> Next chapter

A human version of SwapFell from the GasterGang ^^" I tried to give it the same vibes XD

SwapFell!Gaster belongs to @bun-bunmuse

It's been a stressful week so I worked on this to cope with anxiety X'3 I can't do something too big ( I'm working on my phone so not easy peasy lemon squeezy ) but I'll probably continue if I have time and energy to waste on this silly concept 🙃

Looks like Claire is not that impressed by the Captain X3

And looks like the Captain knows more about the Azran gold that he would tell ~

So here's the younger of the Gang ! I will try to do the all Gang 'cause I love them so much >~<

Wing-Ding in Voidtale belongs to @bun-bunmuse ( I hope I don't bother you by giving you credit everytime ><")

Chapter 2 : The man on the motorbike

Desmond was upstairs, in his room, reading a book he had borrowed to his father about archaeology and Azran stuff. Donald Rutledge was the only well-known expert as it seemed that had written a book so detailed and so complete about this civilisation, and it was incredibly thin regarding how advanced such people must have been. However, every information about them was good to take, and when he would grow up, he would be helpful to his father, he would find back his brother and his mother, and he would make sure his family would be complete again. So, while his father was out for groceries, he could borrow his books and look at his research a bit without worrying him too much.

However, the more the time was passing by and the more Desmond was beginning to worry since his father hadn’t come home yet. Each time he would go to London, the boy was always worried he would be caught by some undercover agents, or spotted, or lost, or worst, and since his father was the only family he had left, he was more than worried in fact, he was terrified that someone could take him away from him one more time.

Just when he thought he would go to the shop down the street, too afraid to stay alone again, he heard the sound of a motorbike running outside and then stop near the house, while two people seemed to be bickering about something.

–For God’s sake, you truly are insane when you ride that… that… that machine !

It was his father’s voice ! Without thinking twice, he quickly put the book back on the shelf in his father’s working room and he quickly came down the stairs to go to the hall, hearing things more clearly and suddenly pausing in front of the door. Wait, if his father was speaking to someone… then who would it be ? And why were they so angry at each other ?

–Oh, shet up, sassenach, A’m perfec’ly able to drive that beauty anywhere, with or without yer commentary !

Without waiting much longer, Leon sighed, got down the motorbike and quickly entered the house to look for his son… almost falling on him when he saw the youngest behind the door, anxiously looking at it.

–Hershel- !

He kneeled and took his son in his arms before hugging him tight, relieved to see that he was doing fine. Since Targent first came to their house, he has had some sleepless nights making sure they were never around their location, and the whole event left him almost paranoid about it. Losing his son would be the last strike of a dagger inside his poor broken heart.

–I’m sorry, I was so worried… Everything is alright my boy ?

Desmond was getting more worried himself since his father’s behaviour was everything but normal.

–Dad ?… What happened ?

But, as soon as he saw the other man getting down the motorbike, he took a few steps back and looked less of a child all of the sudden, completely analysing the manners of this new face. The same age his father, approximatively, not so tall, not a friend, a perfect stranger, strong Scottish accent, not really serious right now, and too much at ease. How could he be so relaxed and how on earth could his father be coming home with such an individual ?

–Who is he, dad ?

The Scottish man looked at the young boy, with a puzzled expression engraved on his face. He didn’t know exactly why but he had been driving this strange English man to his home because he heard him called his son. He had done it because of the light tremolo in his voice, because of the worry of this man for his child, because Targent was everything but merciful with children, and because somehow this man seemed truly pathetic. Of course.

–Hey, balach beag, how’s yer day ?

–Who are you ?

Desmond snapped before getting in front of his father, between both men, not ready to let anyone enter their home to take anyone away. His little hands were trembling like crazy but he stood his ground and was trying to look as intimidating as possible.

–I-If you’re there to hurt my dad, t-then you’ll have to go… to go through me f-first !

–Hershel…

Leon sighed and his expression grew more guilty. It was because of him if Hershel was behaving like this, trying to put all that pressure on his shoulder rather than just letting his father bear it. It was because he hadn’t been able to protect either Rachel nor Theodore. Because of Targent, they were forced to live like outcasts, always hiding, never trusting anyone but themselves, and moving from place to place to make sure never to be caught since that bloody organisation knew he was the archaeologist with the most extended comprehension of this bloody Azran civilisation. All of this, it was because of him.

Slowly, he took Hershel’s arm and stood up to ask him silently to do or say nothing too harsh.

–It’s fine, my boy, he helped me coming home.

–Aye, and we met at-

–We met at the grocery shop, interrupted Leon before the lad could finish his sentence.

It was not necessary to worry Hershel more than he already was. But the boy looked at his father, then stared at the man and at his motorbike. Then she shook his head with a very sad expression.

–Dad, you brought no groceries… And you were way too shaken when you hugged me. Please, tell me the truth… Do we have to move out again ?

This was also a subtle way to ask, in front of that stranger, if Targent had found them again. Leon sighed again, deeply ashamed of himself and how bad of a father he was.

–I… I think so… But it would just be a precaution, to be sure-

The Scottish man, however, was still there and he was a bit embarrassed, because it was somehow a very good delusion if the English man would hope to stay near London while having been spotted so close to his location.

–Hum, A don’t mean to int’rupt ye but… Ye better go far from London. In the deep countryside, mate. Because they’ve found ye around, and they won’t give up. It's as braid as it's lang, ye can’t stay here.

Leon stared at the man and his dark red eyes seemed even darker.

–I think we had an agreement. I thank you for the help but as you remember, you have to go back to your place already.

The man in leather jacket raised an eyebrow, then sighed and rolled his eyes.

–A've no jist come up the Clyde on a bike, ye know ? Targent never gives up, do they ?

Desmond opened wide eyes.

–Wait- you know about them ? Dad, what’s going on here ?

–Nothing Hershel, our friend was on the departure anyway, right, « mate » ?

The man sighed again. They were off their heid, no doubt, but anyway he couldn’t get involved with them. For how much he would hate a child to get into troubles, he couldn’t allow himself to be close to people. He almost paid it too highly years ago. But for now he had at least to spend the night in this little town since it was beginning to be late and his motorbike had run out of gas.

–Ok, ok… A’ll leave, but… at least, do ye know where A can take some rest ? A didna get a blink o sleep last nicht. Is there an inn ? a hotel ? something ? where A can spend the nicht ?

Despite not being very fund of the idea to help a total stranger, Leon gave him an address down the street of a very good inn ready to find him a room for the night. However, the salutations were short and quick. Once alone in their house, Hershel and his father were staring at each other with guilty frowns, knowing perfectly well that tomorrow they would have to move out again, as soon as possible. Even if Leon didn’t know nor like that Ray guy, he was right at some point. They couldn’t stay here and certainly not so close to London if some agents have had spotted them. Without another word, they went to the kitchen to prepare something to eat, but the silence filling up the air was way heavier than a lead ceiling.

———

In town, “Ray” had found the address of the inn the “legal grave-digger” had told him about, and once he was certain his motorbike was already full of gas, he parked it somewhere in the street -just below the window of the room he had been given for the night- and finally sit in front of a desk on which there were a bottle of single malt whiskey, a pen and a blank sheet of paper. He looked at it for a few minutes while taking a pipe out of his jacket inner pocket, filling it with tobacco before lighting it up and taking a few puffs. After some other long minutes during which he wasn't certain to agree wih his own mind, he finally decided to take the pen to write something down but, as soon as he wrote the name of a person on the top of it, he stopped and let go of the pen with an upset little snappy move of the wrist.

–Feck...

He dropped his head back and closed his eyes, reflecting on the past few years and on his choices. Things were hardly nice these days. First, he had thought he could win over a bunch of idiots a few amount of money by cheating at card games and drinking a bit in a town he wasn't supposed to be. But then that man came here in a Scottish pub to get wasted even though he was supposed to... go get some groceries ? for his little boy ? How was it even possible that such coincidence and such ill omen were disposed to be put like this on his way ? And now Targent was back. And they have noticed someone, and now no matter whoever it was, him or the sassenach, now they were both involved because they had fled together. This was suspect enough, and when these assholes would look into their archives, they would remember those faces. His, and the sassenach's.

He sighed and took another puff from his pipe before folding the paper and make it come closer to a lighten match before looking at the paper burn to ashes into the ashtray. When the name on it disappeared, he stood up, went to his window and opened it to lean on the threshold and look at the starsky while smoking. The night wouldn't be long...

....

Or maybe not.

What were these shadows running behind the houses and in the streets ?

The Scottish man frowned. A few years ago he would never have noticed this kind of details but now he was more than aware this was everything but a nice thing and even more... it was a very worrying thing. He looked at them crawling in the shadows and then opened wide eyes.

-Oh feck !

He grabbed his jacket, turned off his pipe in a hurry and rushed out of the Inn. These people were heading to the sassenach's house.

-> First chapter

-> Next chapter

Dunno, wanted to draw something sad and a bit shattered about a game I just discovered again thanks to a friend.

Since Bronev and Desmond do have the same look and the same eyes, guess his reflection isn't something he likes to see, especially his eyes.

Chapter 5 : O Flower of Scotland !

When they arrived to Dingwall, Desmond hopped from the train and looked around, yawning a bit. This train trip had been rather long considering how far they now were from London and from England. They had taken a small train to go to Victoria Station before taking another very long one to go to Edinburgh, and he had been taking some time to sleep since his night had been pretty rough until now. It was also during that time that his father and Raymond had been discussing the idea of renting a house together and find a job to ease their expenditures. Desmond vaguely remembered something about Ray's mother and how he had explained the whole story to them.

His mother owned a small cottage near Cullicudden, a quarter of hour long trip in car was necessary to go there from Dingwall but it was always closer than anything considering trains couldn't go where there was no railroads. Also, there was another reason Ray wanted to stop to Dingwall. His mother was being employed as a domestic by a very rich family living in Dingwall and her cottage was not inhabited most of the time, that was why she had asked his son to come back to Scotland someday, to help her with the house since she was living in the same mansion as her masters. "The cottage is away from any big city, very few neighbours and good air indeed", that was how Raymond had described it and, somehow, after a good hour of thinking about it, Leon was rather opened to such an idea. And he knew that life could be expansive when you were raising a little boy as a father, and alone. Just thinking about Rachel and how she would've wanted her boys safe and sound, living a normal life, had been enough to convince him to give it a try.

Once in Edinburgh, they had to take another train to Iverness, but before doing so they stopped to buy some coats considering the weather was being less clement than in London, and Leon and Desmond hadn't brought one since they had to leave in a hurry. It wasn't winter yet, so they had some time to buy everything they needed. Only Raymond seemed unbothered by the very wet air coming from his homeland, and in fact he was almost happy to come back home. Desmond had been very interested in the landscape and even though it wasn't his first time traveling somewhere –his parents once travelled to Nazca, in Peru, when he and Theodore were younger– he was a bit nervous since this time they had some evil guys trying to look for them in order to take them away to a very bad place. Scotland was very much different from what he thought it would be, and hearing everyone's accent was enough to trouble him a bit at first. But he had been more than excited when they saw the Loch Ness when changing train again in Iverness. He even had the time to see the castle a bit and eat an ice cream !

Finally, after a whole travelling day, they were finally done and getting out of the station. The evening was near and they had not eaten much, merely two sadnwiches and an ice cream for the boy. But with a smile Raymond told them not to worry, that his mother would be more than happy to take them to diner tonight.

–Still, Leon had said, I don't want to impose my presence and Desmond's to her... and if she's kind enough to allow us to stay in her cottage, I might at least be the one offering her a diner.

–Oh, trust me, sassenach, try to offer to pay and ye'll be facin' a beast ! She'll never accept it. Trust me, A've tried twice. And she scolded me in the middle of the restaurant as if A was still a toddler !

Desmond chuckled a bit and was already picturing a little woman scolding that biker as if he was but a child. Leon smiled when he saw him being a bit more joyful than usual. This was enough to make his heart lighter for a few moment. Ray let them for a short moment, going to take back his motorbike which had traveled with them, in a wagon dedicated to these heavy things. Leon rolled his eyes when he saw that Scottish lad being almost in live this his engine.

–Come on, it's just a vehicle ! It's not some kind of wonder.

Raymond gasped and exaggerated his reaction just to make the boy smile again, boy who was really intrigued by such a mechanical prowess.

–It's not "just a vehicle" sassenach ! It's a Norton Model 40 International 350cc 1 cylinder from 1938 ! A've restored it ! T'was me dad's.

–How does it work ?

Desmond had sparkles in his eyes and he was hopping around the vehicle trying to figure out how it was possible for such a thing to be driven by someone on the road. Leon sighed, not knowing how to react to Desmond's enthusiasm since he didn't like mechanical stuff much. He was a more... traditional man regarding technology and mechanics. And he was barely capable to use a television so he wasn't an expert regarding the topic.

–Well, maybe he can explain it to you once we've seen his mother. How do we do that ? We wait for the end of her service or what ?

Raymond took a peek at his watch and thought about it for a minute.

–OK, well... I'll take her at her job, it's almost October's holidays for her, they always give her Samhain.

–Sowhat ?

The Scottish man sighed again and rolled his eyes, pulling his motorbike to follow as they were walking together.

-It's pronounced "Soween", and it's... well, 31st of October. The All Hallows eve, if ye prefer. Go on, have some nice walk time or go to the park, A'll join ye here with me mom. Sounds good ? There's also a few shops. To get yerself a Scots dictionary. Because ye'll need it.

He chuckled and winked to Desmond, promising him a nice ride later, and he made the motor roar before flying away to a very big mansion, away from the city center, and the more he was getting closer and the more his smile was fading. What he hadn't said Leon about all this was that he wasn't exactly in good touch with his mother and he wanted to go there forst to try to talk to her. Last time he had seen her, it was another glorious argument they had, about family mostly, and he has had very harsh words to her, before leaving like a thief, without even saying goodbye. By now he has had enough time to think about it and he regretted a good portion of what he said six years ago. That large amount of time was also the reason he hasn't told Leon about his relationship with his mother. Because at this point he didn't even know if she was willing to talk to him anymore.

He had written him letters 2 years ago, if you can call that writing a letter considering he's done nothing but traces a few line on the paper, for Christmas, All Hallows Eve, New Year's Eve, Easter, her birthday, etc. Just a few lines, and she had never responded to any of them for the simple reason he's been avoiding to leave any address to reply. His life wasn't the most glorious one and by now he was really regretting it, trying to make up for things he's been too stubborn to apologise for.

Without him realising it, his motorbike had almost ridden itself alone, bringing him right to main gates of the big mansion where his mom was working. He sighed and entered the property, leaving his engine near the portal gates, and proceeded to go up the alley to reach for the doors and knock on them, disdainful enough not to ring the bell. He wasn't used to ring bells anyway, he preferred the simple knocking, bells were some fancy way to summon someone and he didn't like it.

A young woman came soon after, looking at him with red cheeks and a shy smile across her face.

–Good evening sir... Who may I announce ?

–Hi, huh... well, A'm not here to see Lord McGregor, A'm lookin' fer me mother, Maighread, is she workin' or does she have... ye know, a few minutes ?

The young lady though seemed a bit troubled by his accent, for sure she was probably not used to Scots and Scottish accent either since the master of this old creaky mansion was trying to speak as "normally" as possible.

–I deeply apologise but... May-who ?

–Maighread, me mom. Ye know her surely, a li''le woman, heavy brown hair, she's the one in charge of the whole domestics here A think.

This time the lady figured it out and her eyes seemed to lighten up.

–Oh, I see ! You're looking for Mà Bannag ! Everyone calls her like that, she always bakes the most wonderful pies !

Ray sighed, a bit nostalgic, and thought that this nickname was truly fitting his mother. He nodded and offered the maid his most charming smile.

–Would ye be kind enough to allow me to see her ? The day's almost done, and A need to talk to her...

Being put in front of such a charming man, the woman blushed again and chuckled like an adorable chick before allowing him to enter and asking him to wait in the hall while she was going to bring Maighread in.

Ray looked around, not that impressed by such a decorum displayed through this hall. Big wooden interior, sculptures, old architecture, dark wooden stairs and ceilings, some tapestries which colours were slowly being less and less shiny considering they were older than everyone in this mansion, some carpets, everything making this house wealthy was only the furniture while the house itself was creaking each time there was a windy day. The man had lived there, with his mother and father, in the domestic aisle, most of his life, before leaving when he was a teen. He knew this corridors like no one else and he also remembered some nice little pranks he did to his parents when he was hidden in the library secret passage. A bit cliche but always worked. The thought was enough to bring a smile on his face but it quickly vanished when he heard the voice of an old man coming from up the stairs.

–It's been a while since last time you came here...

Raymond barely looked up, he wasn't much impressed by the old lord and his grey hair, grey moustache, grey tuxedo and severe figure. In fact, all that was filling his eyes right now was animosity.

–A'm not here to talk to ye. A'm here for me mà.

The old lord seemed to feel some heavy pressure on his shoulder and he looked away. Even his voice seemed less full of assurance.

–She should be here soon, I saw Maggie, the maid who introduced you in, rushed to the domestic aisle... ... you know, if I can do something, I-

But Raymond shook hisbhead and interrupted him right away.

–A want nothin' comin' from ye. And don't ye dare bring Maighread into this. Ye've done enough already, don't ye think ?

The old man sighed but replied nothing. Instead, he only nodded and went away, coming back to his room, just a moment before a shaky voice came to Ray's ears. He turned with a small smile hanging on his lips and waited anxiously for the little woman to come closer, uncertain how to react.

In front of his, his mother was looking at him, her hazel eyes wide opened. Her dark wair was tied into a severe bun but her cheeks and wrinkles at the corner of her eyes were indicating a very joyful woman. She was a bit skinnier than last time Ray had seen her and she had aged indeed. Her hands were shaking because of how unreal the moment seemed to be to her and her uniform, her apron indeed, was covered in flour. The man sighed and messed with his own hair, embarrassed and not knowing what to say. Suddenly his mind had gone blank.

–Hey.... huh... well... hi mà...

The old woman didn't let him say anything else and rushed to hug him tight, happy like she had rarely been. Since she was littler, he had to lean a bit but he didn't complain and hugged her back.

–Mo mac ! Balach beag, A've been so worried, me boy !

If anyone wondered where that young man got his accent from, then the answer was his mother, because she was the one always using this soft voice and little words to speak with her son. Even Ray's father had less of an accent than her !

–Ye are insufferable, young man ! Do ye know how very few informations ye put in yer letters ? A didn't even know if ye were doin' fine or not !

–A'm fine, mà... A just... well... A just had... rough days back then... A'm sorry...

A mother would always be a mother and this one knew her som very well. She backed away a bit, softly put her hands on both his cheeks and look him in the eyes with a worried frowned wrinkling her forehead.

–Yer eyes tell a lot, mo mac... Ye'll explain to me later ?

Raymond sighed and looked away. Maighread sighed too and kissed his forehead before smiling.

–I know ye're not here without a reason... do ye mind helping me grab me things ? Then ye'll tell me all about it, sounds fair ?

For how much Raymond wanted to be serious and for how much guilty he was feeling for the past few years, he cracked a smile and followed his mother. This little reunion had been going rather well but the main topic wasn't even brought on the table yet, they would need a long conversation, preferably with a cherry or a good whiskey.

–Yeah... let's go... Care fer a ride on me motorbike ?

–A thought ye'd never ask !

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I think I'll try to draw them all X3 sorry not sorry!

A little gift for @mortallychaotickingdom because everyone needs a bit of sweetness in their life and her in particular !

Check her artwork because she deserves it a lot more than I can say ! ♡♡♡

Never wondered how would a young hotting Raymond would look like ?

@mortallychaotickingdom did a design of him younger and it is perfect, GO CHECK HER MARVELLOUS WORK ! ♡♡♡☆☆☆

And so I tried something X3 he was a goddamn fox in his twenties, change my mind !