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<Dawn> ::Without Dusk's disguising illusions, Dawn's shop is almost unrecognizable. The dingy basement walls have been replaced with dark wood panels, the grungy floor with tile. The room is nearly twice as big as it previously seemed - shelving for books and potions and gewgaws is finally revealed, and one side of the room now extends into a large magical/alchemical work-area.:: <Dawn> ::Only the sparring/target-practice areas remain unaffected. The furniture has undergone makeovers as well; it is hardly top-of-the-line, but no longer appears to have been snatched from a trash-heap in the poorer sections of the city.:: <Dawn> ::For this gathering, several extra chairs have been brought in. A table is laden with food and drinks, and its centerpiece is an ornate urn bracketed by tall black candles. Dawn stands before the table; his eyes are dry, but fixed on the urn.:: * Angel lurks behind Jewel looming somewhat awkwardly. His garb doesn't seem out of place, but he looks vaguely uncomfortable. * Whistle had arrived the previous evening, and spent several hours closeted with Dawn. He is gravely formal now, his entire body bowed and seemingly shrunken with grief. * Jewel wears her mourning blacks-- a color she's become far too accustomed to of late. She immediately goes to Dawn and Bie with her hands out, to offer her condolences. <Bienca> ::takes her hands:: It's good to see you. Thank you. * Dawn - for once - is dressed primarily in black rather than his more usual browns and reds. He doesn't look remotely scruffy, though his eyes are filled with pain as he turns to accept Jewel's greeting. "Thanks, gorgeous." <Jewel> ::she squeezes his hand:: Are you alright? Is... ::she glances over at Whistle:: How is he? <Dawn> ::follows her glance toward his mentor:: He's lost his son. He's hurting. But he'll recover. <Jewel> Not *both* of them. Just remember that, okay? ::she leans in and gives his cheek a sisterly kiss:: * Angel waits a few minutes, then puts his hand on Dawn's shoulder. "I'm sorry." <Dawn> ::shakes his head, half-smiling:: I know you like to think that, Jewel, and he's very fond of me, but Dusk was always first in his heart. ::he nods to Angel:: Aye. <Angel> ::nods slowly:: I owed him. A lot. And I'm sorry that bitch took him with her. ::his eyes narrow again:: Sorry as hell. <Dawn> She didn't even, really... ::he swallows hard and shakes his head quickly:: We'll miss him. * Whistle comes over to the group, his hazel eyes slanting toward green. He eyes Angel, and then offers a slight, formal bow. "Marsember. My thanks for your hospitality." * Angel returns the bow and offers his hand. "You're welcome, at any time." <Whistle> ::takes Angel's hand, his grip firm:: Thank you. Hell of a reason to have to take a vacation. * Jewel blinks, taking a moment to realize who Whistle was referring to. She offers Whistle her hand. "I'm sorry." Her smile is bittersweet. "We always seem to see you for... things like this." * Whistle takes her hand and bows over it, courtly. "I hope the next occasion will be more joyful, my lady." * Geremi stumps in, looking even more surprisingly neat and clean than before. Sylvie, dressed also in black, is at his side, her face covered with a mourner's veil. She goes immediately to Dawn and embraces him. "Oh, Dawn..." <Jewel> From your lips to Dame Fortune's ear, milord. * Dawn actually smiles slightly as he returns Sylvie's embrace. "Sylvie, love. Thank you. You were always one of his favorites." <Sylvie> ::starts to cry, resting her head on Dawn's shoulder:: You two were always among my best customers. * Dawn pets Sylvie's hair, and casts a "helphelp" look at Bienca. * Jewel mists up a little, watching Sylvie cry. <Bienca> ::gently disentangles Sylvie from Dawn, giving the smaller woman a more comfortable shoulder:: It's all right, darling... * Jewel glances around the room for the umpteenth time, still looking for a face she hasn't yet seen. * Whistle eyes Geremi, sizing him up, and offers a polite, respectful nod. <Geremi> ::nods briefly:: Damn shame, that. Boy was a fucking spectacular mage, if you ask my opinion. Which I note you did not. <Whistle> ::almost smiles:: Thank you. <Jewel> ::her eyes pass over the urn, and she undertones to Angel:: Is that... they found him? <Angel> ::softly:: I... ahem... don't look our finances over too closely this month. It was expensive to get him back. <Dawn> ::looks around at the small group:: I think that's all of us. ::he leans one hip against the table, and picks up a glass that's already been filled with a rich golden liquor, and raises his voice very slightly:: I'm not going to make a show of this. No priests, and no damn speeches. Just... goodbye, to our friend, and my partner. ::he raises the glass in silent toast, then closes his eyes and empties it. He pauses for a long moment after he swallows the liquor, and then throws the glass almost angrily against the wall with the knife-throwing target. It impacts the bullseye dead center and shatters.:: <Jewel> To Dusk. ::lifts her glass to her lips, pauses, and drains it:: * Angel takes a drink as well, his face impassive although his eyes are emotive. * Whistle empties his glass with a sigh. * Jewel wanders over to the urn and stands staring at it for a long time. Biting her lip, she lifts her hand, fingers outstretched, and hesitates. After a moment, she lets her hand fall again with a sigh, leaving the urn untouched. <Angel> ::the others empty their glasses as well, although Geremi winces slightly as he finishes his:: * Angel raises his eyebrows at his wife, giving her a questioning look. * Jewel shakes her head, still biting her lip. {Later, love. Not here.} * Dawn reaches into his pocket and withdraws a heavy silver bracelet - or perhaps an armband for a slender woman. He offers it wordlessly to Whistle. * Jewel draws in a breath, recognizing the armband. <Geremi> ::aside as he rescues Bienca from his weeping wife:: Won't miss that, me. Never did understand all that finger fuckery. * Whistle hesitates a moment, and finally takes the bracelet gingerly, as if he thinks it might bite. He looks at it for a moment, then touches it to his lips and puts it in his own pocket. He meets Dawn's eyes, and nods once. <Bienca> ::gives Geremi a dark look, then rolls her eyes:: Still can't take you out, even all dressed up, can we? * Jewel returns to Angel, glancing around the room before holding her hand behind her to take his hand. * Dawn glances over his shoulder at Geremi's comment, and at Bienca's retort, he laughs - softly, at first, and then with a hint of hysteria. He finally stops it by picking up another glass and draining it. * Bienca immediately moves to him, her hand hesitating near his arm. * Jewel leans forward a little, as if she could nudge Bie to take his arm from across the room by sheer force of will. * Dawn sets down the glass and sees Bienca hovering. He puts an arm around her waist. "Momentary lapse, lovely." * Jewel relaxes with a small sigh. * Bienca gives him an encouraging sort of smile, then leans back towards the table and snags a few munchies. "Always hungry these days, it seems." She seems a bit apologetic. <Dawn> Ah, so *that's* why you were so insistent that I put out food. You could've just *said*... ::he helps himself to another drink, but sips rather than gulps:: * Jewel smirks a bit, and goes to get herself a plateful of food so that Bie won't be such a standout. <Whistle> ::eyes narrow, and he speaks sternly:: Dawn. <Dawn> ::automatically:: Sir? <Whistle> *Again*? <Dawn> ::gives his old teacher an exasperated glare:: Twice in twenty years. I'm making quite a habit of it, aren't I? <Angel> ::raises an eyebrow:: I think I'm missing half of this conversation. <Jewel> ::raises an eyebrow of her own:: I think you're not the only one. ::mutters:: What, didn't he *let* them date? <Whistle> I hope you're going to take better care of this one. <Dawn> ::starts to reply indignantly, then sighs, deflating with a wry smile:: Aye, Master Whistle, I'm trying to take better care, this time. ::he puts his arm back around Bienca:: <Whistle> ::grins suddenly, and winks at Jewel:: <Bienca> ::blinks a few times:: * Jewel looks amused, and grins back. "I thought it was the other way around, myself, sir." <Whistle> It usually is, of course. Still, a man's got responsibilities. * Jewel snorts. Loudly. * Dawn grumbles quietly into his drink. <Bienca> ::taking another nibble of something:: One of these days, I'm going to get you to sit down and tell stories so I stop feeling confused whenever he shows up. <Dawn> ::muttering:: Never happen, lovely. I had to move out of his fucking house to get him to stop confusing me all the damn time. <Jewel> ::helpfully:: Get him drunk. It usually helps. <Sylvie> ::having recovered somewhat, she pats Bienca's hand:: Don't believe it... the problem is getting *this* one to shut up. ::she jerks a thumb at Geremi:: <Geremi> ::snorts:: I'm fucking hurt here, me. <Dawn> ::snorts at Geremi:: You wouldn't be hurt if she stabbed you with a knife. * Jewel squeezes Angel's hand a little, and looks faintly smug. <Geremi> She ever stab *you*, bright boy? <Sylvie> I never stabbed *you* either... hit you upside the head with a wine bottle, from time to time. But you can't deny you deserved it. * Dawn opens his mouth with the obvious intent of a smartmouth response, then glances at the guests and restrains himself. With difficulty. <Jewel> ::covers a snicker with her hand:: Oh, go on, Dawn. We're all friends here. <Dawn> ::takes a quick drink:: The moment has passed, I fear. <Geremi> ::gives Angel a look of mock anguish:: Being fucking ganged up on here, me. Be a good boy and come rescue my sorry ass. <Angel> ::the corner of his mouth twitches in a smile:: I wouldn't dream of getting involved in a battle of wits on your behalf, old friend. I like winning. <Dawn> ::smirks:: <Jewel> ::grinning:: The best way to win a fight like that, Snowman, is to lose it. ::winks:: <Geremi> ::sighs:: Says you... ::links hands with his wife, who looks at him with the still-newly-married tenderness:: * Jewel sighs a little again, happily, then looks abashed. * Dawn turns back to the table, and silently toasts Dusk with the last swallow of his drink. He stands for a long moment, just looking at the urn. "Bastard," he whispers. "How do I do this without you?" Despite his resolve, a tear tracks its lonely way down his face. <Bienca> ::gently:: One day at a time, Oyeha... one day at a time. |
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