Keir snorted, Alucard nudging him slightly as the Dhampir sat up. He shook his head at his cousin, quirking an eyebrow at Mimi. "Lala is always upset with you, Mimi. You do it to yourself, really."
He shrugged as he stood up, his grin matching that of his father's. He surveyed the damage, rather pleased with himself. "By now, you shouldn't even have to ask that question, Bally. It's not a matter of being able to help ourselves, more or less a matter of knowing when not to." His logic was utterly flawed, but it wasn't like he cared. The blue scales on his upper arm and exposed chest glimmered in the sunlight. Keir had long since abandoned the uniform of Cross Academy, and anyone who tried to get him in one did not end up a happy person.
"Besides, they were renovating the shed anyway, I just helped them out a little."
Balthasar sighed. The question had been largely rhetorical. He knew there was little point in arguing with his cousins about any of this, and really, he didnât even want to. He was one of those people who chose to let others be as they were for the most part, and he wasnât inclined to try and change either of them. Well⊠admittedly, heâd like it if he could change the fact that Rica refused to be in his presence for more than five seconds at a time, but he was pretty sure that was something he needed to do differently, not a problem with her. Why would it be?
âYes, well⊠remind me of this if I ever ask you to help me with anything,â he said, glancing back at the shed and shaking his head. He didnât really understand the necessity of this, but then, they obviously didnât do it because it was necessary. Though the enjoyment was also a bit lost on him, really. Nevertheless, he was content to let the matter drop. Though the Headmaster of Cross was not the same one his parents had known, the man was clearly related, and had a similar practical streakâthere were specific provisions in the budget for damage caused by âAlistairs and Coconspirators.â
Keir shrugged, a smirk on his face. "Hey, at least I don't run around breaking beds. This is much more fun." He rolled out his shoulders, turning when someone called out to him, and handed him an envelope. Keir looked at it, and sighed. "Well...looks like I have a date with your brother. It seems Alden dug something up."
He turned from his cousin, raising his hand in a wave as he did so. "Just tell old man Cross I did him a favor. He understands."
Alden had dug up something else, had he? That rarely boded well, and even Balthasar knew this. He wasnât too deep into the informational sides of this whole thing, at least not any further than his father bid him be, but he wasnât out of the loop, either. Mostly, he saved catching up for the briefings Ary arranged before all their operations, so that he knew everything that was necessary about where they were going, what they were doing, and why it was important. He trusted his brother and his cousins to know what they were doing and not send him into a fight he could not win or one that wasnât for the right reasons.
âVery well,â he said, entirely defeated and well-aware of it. He didnât put up much of a fight against his relatives. It was a miracle they hadnât somehow killed him by now. Heâd chased after the majority of them when they were still children, trying to keep them from hurting themselves or breaking things. The twins had been particularly challenging, but then, he was a fairly experienced babysitter by that point. Still, he didnât know how their parents dealt with them the rest of the time. Probably with heavy bribery.
He watched Kier head off and returned his attention to the owl now on his shoulder. âDid Rica get the apples I left her this morning, Mikhail?â He was sort of asking because he wanted to know if sheâd liked them, but mostly just to make sure. Sometimes, when the Alistairs had a plan, they forgot to notice other things going on around them. Like the time Uncle Vincent had watched them try to ice the floor of his foyer. There was no blaming that one on him. He wondered if Keir was still afraid of their uncle after that. He wouldnât be surprised⊠Vincent was kind of terrifying.
Mikhail only leaned into Balthasar's fingers that rubbed against his white feathers as a soft humming noise escaped his throat. He frowned, or at least would have, when Balthasar turned his attention to Keir and they began their own conversation, leaving him to close his eyes. It was then a question fluttered into his ears and he cracked one eye open. He studied Balthasar's face, reading it for anything he could possibly use later to tease Rica with, however; he found nothing and only sighed, softly though as to himself.
"So...you're her secret admirer. She doesn't know who keeps leaving those apples at her door, and though she loves apples, she doesn't know who they're from. She throws them away," though that was a lie. Those apples lasted her the whole week if they were lucky enough. "She said something about poisoning, or something of that sort," and that was a lie too. Given their vampiric blood, human poisons wouldn't work on them, but Mikhail was having the light of his life at the moment, glancing up towards Ilyana in the process.
"Though, I'm sure if you at least left her a note, she'd love you even more," he stated the last part a little faster than usual, and could perhaps be heard more of a jumble of words together than a complete sentence. Mikhail was well aware of his masters feelings for this boy, however; that didn't mean he couldn't have a bit of fun with it, even if she could hear what he was saying and was currently sending him a colorful array of words.
Oh, he hadnât thought about that. It had never occurred to Balthasar that his dhampir cousins might be susceptible to poisoningâheâd simply assumed that, like vampires, they had no need to worry about such things. If he was wrong, he could certainly understand her caution, and he nodded sagely to Mikhailâs advice. âI see. I wasnât aware of that. I should make sure to write oneâŠâ He was busy enough trying to think of what to say in such a note that he entirely missed the last part of the sentence, garbled as it was, but Ilyana was not so distracted, and her tails lashed with amusement.
Balthasar, silly man that he was, had no idea what Mikhail was playing at here, but Ilyana was smarter than that, even at four years of age. Perhaps that said something elegantly enough on its own, but even so, she really couldnât resist. âHey Bally?â
The nickname drew his attention, and he rolled his eyes as high as they would go, as if to look at the creature still perched atop his head. âYes, Illy?â he asked politely, removing a pen from his pocket and a small notebook from inside his uniform jacket. He gave it a few more secondsâ thought, then, in small, precise masculine handwriting, penned the following. Rica, The apples are from me. Please donât let that stop you from eating them. I just thought, Mondays are kind of the worst, and it would be nice if they were better. Balthasar. He folded the note over once and held it up to Mikhail, silently asking the familiar if he would take it. It was unlikely to ever be read if it came from him directly, after all-- if she let him get that close, heâd have just told her.
Ilyana sighed. âYouâre kind of stupid, arenât you?â
Mikhail stared dumbfoundedly at Balthasar, blinking in succession, very slowly. He glanced at Ilyana before shaking his head, taking the letter from Balthasar's hand, but not before responding to Ilyana. "I don't think stupid defines it," he replied before taking the letter and flying off to find his master. Though he knew she was aware of whom the apples came from. She wouldn't have eaten them so slowly otherwise.
He shrugged as he stood up, his grin matching that of his father's. He surveyed the damage, rather pleased with himself. "By now, you shouldn't even have to ask that question, Bally. It's not a matter of being able to help ourselves, more or less a matter of knowing when not to." His logic was utterly flawed, but it wasn't like he cared. The blue scales on his upper arm and exposed chest glimmered in the sunlight. Keir had long since abandoned the uniform of Cross Academy, and anyone who tried to get him in one did not end up a happy person.
"Besides, they were renovating the shed anyway, I just helped them out a little."
Balthasar sighed. The question had been largely rhetorical. He knew there was little point in arguing with his cousins about any of this, and really, he didnât even want to. He was one of those people who chose to let others be as they were for the most part, and he wasnât inclined to try and change either of them. Well⊠admittedly, heâd like it if he could change the fact that Rica refused to be in his presence for more than five seconds at a time, but he was pretty sure that was something he needed to do differently, not a problem with her. Why would it be?
âYes, well⊠remind me of this if I ever ask you to help me with anything,â he said, glancing back at the shed and shaking his head. He didnât really understand the necessity of this, but then, they obviously didnât do it because it was necessary. Though the enjoyment was also a bit lost on him, really. Nevertheless, he was content to let the matter drop. Though the Headmaster of Cross was not the same one his parents had known, the man was clearly related, and had a similar practical streakâthere were specific provisions in the budget for damage caused by âAlistairs and Coconspirators.â
Keir shrugged, a smirk on his face. "Hey, at least I don't run around breaking beds. This is much more fun." He rolled out his shoulders, turning when someone called out to him, and handed him an envelope. Keir looked at it, and sighed. "Well...looks like I have a date with your brother. It seems Alden dug something up."
He turned from his cousin, raising his hand in a wave as he did so. "Just tell old man Cross I did him a favor. He understands."
Alden had dug up something else, had he? That rarely boded well, and even Balthasar knew this. He wasnât too deep into the informational sides of this whole thing, at least not any further than his father bid him be, but he wasnât out of the loop, either. Mostly, he saved catching up for the briefings Ary arranged before all their operations, so that he knew everything that was necessary about where they were going, what they were doing, and why it was important. He trusted his brother and his cousins to know what they were doing and not send him into a fight he could not win or one that wasnât for the right reasons.
âVery well,â he said, entirely defeated and well-aware of it. He didnât put up much of a fight against his relatives. It was a miracle they hadnât somehow killed him by now. Heâd chased after the majority of them when they were still children, trying to keep them from hurting themselves or breaking things. The twins had been particularly challenging, but then, he was a fairly experienced babysitter by that point. Still, he didnât know how their parents dealt with them the rest of the time. Probably with heavy bribery.
He watched Kier head off and returned his attention to the owl now on his shoulder. âDid Rica get the apples I left her this morning, Mikhail?â He was sort of asking because he wanted to know if sheâd liked them, but mostly just to make sure. Sometimes, when the Alistairs had a plan, they forgot to notice other things going on around them. Like the time Uncle Vincent had watched them try to ice the floor of his foyer. There was no blaming that one on him. He wondered if Keir was still afraid of their uncle after that. He wouldnât be surprised⊠Vincent was kind of terrifying.
Mikhail only leaned into Balthasar's fingers that rubbed against his white feathers as a soft humming noise escaped his throat. He frowned, or at least would have, when Balthasar turned his attention to Keir and they began their own conversation, leaving him to close his eyes. It was then a question fluttered into his ears and he cracked one eye open. He studied Balthasar's face, reading it for anything he could possibly use later to tease Rica with, however; he found nothing and only sighed, softly though as to himself.
"So...you're her secret admirer. She doesn't know who keeps leaving those apples at her door, and though she loves apples, she doesn't know who they're from. She throws them away," though that was a lie. Those apples lasted her the whole week if they were lucky enough. "She said something about poisoning, or something of that sort," and that was a lie too. Given their vampiric blood, human poisons wouldn't work on them, but Mikhail was having the light of his life at the moment, glancing up towards Ilyana in the process.
"Though, I'm sure if you at least left her a note, she'd love you even more," he stated the last part a little faster than usual, and could perhaps be heard more of a jumble of words together than a complete sentence. Mikhail was well aware of his masters feelings for this boy, however; that didn't mean he couldn't have a bit of fun with it, even if she could hear what he was saying and was currently sending him a colorful array of words.
Oh, he hadnât thought about that. It had never occurred to Balthasar that his dhampir cousins might be susceptible to poisoningâheâd simply assumed that, like vampires, they had no need to worry about such things. If he was wrong, he could certainly understand her caution, and he nodded sagely to Mikhailâs advice. âI see. I wasnât aware of that. I should make sure to write oneâŠâ He was busy enough trying to think of what to say in such a note that he entirely missed the last part of the sentence, garbled as it was, but Ilyana was not so distracted, and her tails lashed with amusement.
Balthasar, silly man that he was, had no idea what Mikhail was playing at here, but Ilyana was smarter than that, even at four years of age. Perhaps that said something elegantly enough on its own, but even so, she really couldnât resist. âHey Bally?â
The nickname drew his attention, and he rolled his eyes as high as they would go, as if to look at the creature still perched atop his head. âYes, Illy?â he asked politely, removing a pen from his pocket and a small notebook from inside his uniform jacket. He gave it a few more secondsâ thought, then, in small, precise masculine handwriting, penned the following. Rica, The apples are from me. Please donât let that stop you from eating them. I just thought, Mondays are kind of the worst, and it would be nice if they were better. Balthasar. He folded the note over once and held it up to Mikhail, silently asking the familiar if he would take it. It was unlikely to ever be read if it came from him directly, after all-- if she let him get that close, heâd have just told her.
Ilyana sighed. âYouâre kind of stupid, arenât you?â
Mikhail stared dumbfoundedly at Balthasar, blinking in succession, very slowly. He glanced at Ilyana before shaking his head, taking the letter from Balthasar's hand, but not before responding to Ilyana. "I don't think stupid defines it," he replied before taking the letter and flying off to find his master. Though he knew she was aware of whom the apples came from. She wouldn't have eaten them so slowly otherwise.