ＯＵＴ ＯＦ ＬＵＸ discussion

   
   
      𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓸𝓽 𝓓𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓲𝔁
   

   Elliot scanned the rooftops, a habit that could potentially save his life. As much as he loved risk, he wasn’t beyond precautions. If he were, there was probably no way he would have made it into the militia. But he was good at his job. The best, really. Ivorri Altan just needed to accept that. Alright, so maybe he had butted in on some of her cases, but it wasn’t like she was past doing the same. And no one ever seemed to trust him the way they did her. The Altans and Haydens were very close, he could tell. Her own mother was one of the senior officers, and she called Commander Hayden aunt. So really, she had an unfair advantage, even without the issue of his own family. And, alright, maybe stealing her cases wasn’t the best way to gain trust. Cracking this case though? That should do it. Right? Of course it would. So, he needed to do that. Of course, the main drive was preventing more people from being murdered, but, well, the thought of beating Ivorri to the truth was motivating.

Zak, a rather cute Night Rider around Elliot’s age, walked over to him, a bunch of newspapers in hand. “There doesn’t seem to be any word on these murders,” he said quietly.

Elliot had been falling a bit behind on the news. Too focused on his case to read the papers. Everyone knew the Seaveys were manipulative, anyway. No doubt as bad as the Delacroixs. One of the three most infamous noble houses. The other two of course being his own, and the one his mother hailed from. He was so fortunate in his genetics. At any rate, he had no love for the Seaveys, and you could hardly believe anything they said. Still, there was generally a thread of truth in the articles, and he needed to stay caught up. “Can I see?”

“Sure.” Zak handed over copies of the last three issues of the paper.

He started with the oldest. Front page news about the murder of Councilor Daenerys’ father. Not like he needed to read that in the paper. Turning the page, he found an article about an addition to the museum in honor of Father. Anger rose up in him. Like he deserved any sort of memorial. Not that he was surprised, of course they would do something in memory of him. He wondered who’s idea this had been. Mother’s? Draven’s? Someone else’s? And what was Draven going to do, give a speech when it opened about his loving father? He wondered whether Draven had any good memories with him. Elliot certainly didn’t.

The next issue didn’t really have too much of great importance to say, but today’s had news of the most recent murder victim. The one he and Ivorri had argued over,as he had been an Asterath citizen, but found in Voxthain. He was a part of a close-knit non-blood family that helped keep order throughout the city. Elliot nearly laughed. Well, that was one way of saying he was a member of a gang. But, honestly, wasn’t there some truth to it? He had been staying at the Night Riders’ base while in Asterath, and they really weren’t bad people. Honestly, a part of him was half tempted to join them, himself.

The next page was just about the annual writing competition. Maybe the only real news was the front page. He flipped again. Lantas Diner Accident. An accident? He started reading, and this time, he did laugh. He couldn’t help it. Oh God, Draven had blown out the windows? What was wrong with him? He didn’t believe August Hayden had manipulated him for a second. No, clearly the two had gotten into an argument, and Draven had lost his cool, and his control over his magic. Although Elliot would greatly like to know what August has said to piss Draven off so much. How long had it been since he had lost control like that?

When they were little, it used to happen rather often, especially before Cogworks, but during, as well. Still a long time ago, though. Their parents had never approved of course, so Elliot had always had to do his best to distract them, make them mad at him instead. Because it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t like Draven could really help it.

But surely he could help it now.

Suddenly, a sick feeling hit Elliot in the gut. Because, now that Draven was an adult, and not only that, but Head of the House, Mother was probably more upset about this sort of thing than ever. Of course, considering he was an adult, maybe she wouldn't punish him. He couldn't be sure, though, Mother was Mother. But Draven was her perfect little heir, he was fine.

This didn’t exactly give off perfect little heir so much, though. Elliot couldn’t decide whether he was mad or proud. Maybe a bit of both. He didn’t know what August had said, and it probably hadn’t been anything deserving of such a reaction, but he would be lying if he denied that this was exactly the sort of thing that would happen to him, if he were skilled in evocation. And, well, even before he left, it had been a while since he had seen any strong emotion in his little brother. So really, who was to say, if they were still speaking, that he wouldn’t congratulate him? But, of course, it was... well, stupid.

And Elliot wasn’t there. If Mother did do something, Elliot wasn’t there to stop it. Which was what he had always at least tried to do in the past, even if it meant getting punished himself. And even when he couldn’t, even when there was nothing he could do to prevent it, at least he could be there for him. He would still hold him afterward, comfort him while he cried.

And now he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t even there. His hands clenched into fists, crinkling the paper. The thought of Draven hurt, crying, was frankly too painful too think about, even after everything. If he had been wrong, if Draven wasn’t just like them, then what? And Mother would be furious about this, without question. Not that she was always the greatest at controlling her own temper, but he supposed she didn’t tend to lose it in public, at least. Her wrath didn’t even usually leave scars, the way Father’s had.

“Mark, are you alright?” Zak sounded worried.

It took Elliot a second to recognize his fake name, but he suddenly snapped out of it. It wasn’t like he could do anything, and besides, Draven was probably fine. But is he, really? Do I really believe that? Of course he did. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He flashed him a smile. “What do you say we go out for drinks? My treat.” The Neon Cogs Saloon was in Club Serpentine territory, maybe he could pick up some intel while there. And forget about his stupid family.

   

   
   
      𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓸𝓽 𝓓𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓲𝔁
   
⠀⠀cogworks academy - age 17
   

   Elliot hops up to perch on the table. “Hello there.”

Antonio looks up. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” Elliot demands, scanning Cogbucks Cafe. It’s popular with Voxthian students, which isn’t necessarily a problem, he is, after all, a Voxthian student, but that means it’s popular with the noble kids - which, again, he is, but he doesn’t like to think about that. To be fair, Antonio is also technically nobility, but the Stormvales are so far removed from the rest of the noble families, it hardly counts. Elliot can’t help but be jealous of that. He spends as much time at the Stormvales’ as possible, but it isn’t the same. It isn’t like he is one of them. Or… any family other than the Delacroixs. Well, he supposes he is also half Calico, but that isn’t much better.

“Cogworks unfortunately has great pastries.” Antonio picks up a half eaten strawberry danish, and waves it in the air.

“Alright, I can’t argue with that.” Elliot reaches for the danish.

Antonio leans back, tilting his chair onto its back legs, and holding the danish over his head.

Elliot laughs, and leans forward, still reaching for it.

“Get your own.”

“Come on, don’t you love me?”

“Don’t you have plenty to trade?”

“Not really, actually. My parents hate me, remember?”

Antonio’s eyes widen. Oh right, somehow, even after years as best friends - practically brothers, really - he still reacts that way when Elliot makes these sort of comments. He shoves Antonio’s shoulder. “Don’t let me guilt-trip you.”

“I’m not. So, that wasn’t the point of that comment?”

“What?” Elliot leans back, placing a hand over his heart. “I would never.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Antonio lets his chair drop back down.

Elliot swipes for the danish again. Antonio leans away, then suddenly, his chair falls backwards, and he goes crashing to the floor.

“Are you alright?” Elliot checks, leaning forward, hands clenched around the edge of the tabletop.

Antonio gives him a fake glare, then glances at the danish, which landed on the floor. “You owe me a danish.”

“Oh, how graceful. We’ll be sure to win the soccer match tomorrow.”

Elliot’s head snaps up. “Draven, what are you doing here?”

Draven arches an eyebrow. “I believe the better question is what you’re doing here.”

“I’m just as welcome here as you are.”

Antonio gets up off the floor, and rights the chair. “Hi, Draven,” he says, clearly trying to diffuse the tension.

Elliot doesn’t know how exactly they’ve come to this, honestly. They used to be so close. And they do still have… moments, sometimes. But more often than not, any interactions between them end in arguments. And, truth be told, it’s been that way for a while. He hates to admit it, but it hurts. But Draven has just… shut down in a lot of ways. And Elliot doesn’t know what the hell to do with that. He’s tried to break through, but Draven is always pushing him out. What happened to the little boy who used to always let him in?

Draven just gives Antonio a look. A very… Delacroix look.

Antonio leans on the back of the chair, placing one foot on the seat. “I will have you know that we will in fact be winning the soccer match. Or, I will, I don’t remember you being on the team.”

Draven rolls his eyes. “I try to show school spirit, and get criticized for it.”

“Since when have you had any school spirit?” Elliot asks.

Draven turns his glare on him. “Apparently, it doesn’t make much of a difference either way.”

It’s Elliot’s turn to roll his eyes. “Come on, Dray - ”

Boucle-la,” Draven snaps.

”Non merci,” Elliot immediately replies.

Draven rolls his eyes again. He's been doing that a ridiculous amount lately. He's just fueling the teen stereotypes at this point.

“What is your problem?” Elliot demands.

“Well, you’re far too close to my table, for one.”

Elliot glances over at Draven’s little posse of noble kids, who are gathered around a nearby table. “Find another table if you hate it so much.”

Draven crosses his arms over his chest. “I’d rather not.”

“Well, then deal with it.”

“Non. Je ne vais pas l’accepter.”

The nerve. “Non? À quel point tu es mature.”

“Tu oses parler de maturité ?”

“Oui. Tu es incroyable. On était là en premier.”

“Guys?” Antonio cuts in. “To be honest, I have no idea what you're saying, but, I think maybe you should calm down.”

Eyeroll numéro trois. “If you don't understand a conversation, perhaps you ought to keep out of it.”

“Oh, and if Antonio and I were speaking in Spanish, you wouldn't want to say something?” Elliot shoots back.

“You don't speak Spanish,” Draven states, as if he would know.

“I'm learning.”

“Of course you are.” He sounds exhausted at the idea. “Regardless, if you two were having a conversation I would simply ignore you and get on with my life.”

“So why don't you do that now?” Elliot gestures to Draven's friends.

“I told you, you're too close to my table.”

Elliot slides down to his feet. “And I told you, if that's such a problem, you can piss off.”

“No, you can. This is where I come, not you. Why don't the two of you go to wherever it is you usually are at this time of day?”

“You don't own Cogbucks, you know. Just because your spoiled little friend group likes it here, that doesn't mean other people can't come too. All Cogworks students and staff are welcome, so you’ll just have to get used to it. This isn't Sol Aureus.”

“I'm aware of that.”

“Are you? Because it really doesn't seem like it.”

“The problem is that you in particular are here, at the same time as me. Why don't you go to the Neon Lights Courtyard, or wherever. Or are you not welcome there?”

“Of course I'm welcome there.” Elliot feels like he’s about to lose it. “Although apparently I’m not very welcome here, at least not from you.”

“I wouldn't think you'd want to be. Unless you do? Come sit with us, be the good heir Maman and Papa always wanted you to be.”

Elliot’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I'm not interested in hanging out with your stupid friends.”

Draven huffs. “Izzy and Alex used to be your friends too.”

“Yeah, back before I was able to actually make friends for myself.”

“You know, Izzy told me she saw you like a big brother.”

Elliot honestly feels slightly bad, Izzy honestly is a nice girl. Although considering how inseparable she and Draven are, who knows at this point. At any rate, it's what’s left unsaid that echoes between them. That he is Draven's big brother. “Well, she's probably the best of you. I haven't heard any rumors about her being a bully, at least.”

“Honestly - ”

“What? I heard you left that Daenerys girl in tears yesterday. And don't forget that I caught you picking on that Melbourne girl last week.”

“Can you mind your own business for once?”

“Could you try being a good person?”

“Hey, what did I say about needing to calm down?” Antonio interrupts again.

“Stay out of it,” Draven snaps.

“Honestly, he’s the only one who needs to calm down,” Elliot says. When Antonio doesn’t respond, he turns to him. “You’re supposed to be on my side here.”

“I am, but maybe we should go.”

“Excuse me?” Elliot can’t believe he’s hearing this. “We can’t just leave.”

“I think we should before things get too heated.”

Elliot narrows his eyes at him, then glances back over at Draven. “I - ”

“Come on, you owe me a danish.” Antonio grabs Elliot’s arm, and drags him over the counter.

“Why did you have to drag me away?” Elliot hisses.

“Because I didn’t want you to say something you’d regret.”

“What could I possibly say that I would regret?”

“I just thought you could both use some time to cool down.”

Elliot shakes his head. “He’s so bloody pretentious, how the hell are we related?” He glances back to find that Draven has returned to his friends and his table. “You know… we should teach them a lesson.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Oh nothing drastic. Just…” He leans back on his heels. “Why don’t we rig some fireworks around their table tomorrow?”

Antonio is silent for a second, and then: “We could do that.”

Elliot grins at him. “Great. You didn’t use those fireworks I left at yours, have you?”

“Of course not.”

“Let’s go, then.” He turns back around, and heads for the counter. Tomorrow is going to be fun.