A Little Something Because Why Not ? - Blog Posts

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.

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