Today at The Dal, Tamsin finds one thing she's actually good at, and no, it's not busting a move. The dance off to the death three days ago, that was almost a disaster. She had won, but only by the skin of her teeth.
Tamsin meticulously lines up her next shot, thinking about the appropriate English and close calls while considering brushing up on Fae species. Perhaps if she were more knowledgeable on the subject, she would have chosen another method of dueling. How ignorant she was; challenging a Mikishi, a type of Fae with a strong ancestral tradition of DANCING, to a game that they were most certainly skilled at.
The yellow ball rolls across the green felt and sinks into the side pocket with ease. If there came another time, another beefy damsel in distress and another duel to the death, Tamsin would choose a game of pool in a heartbeat.
It's a good thing Kenzi had her back. She suggested... or urged rather, that Tamsin go for broke plan B and use her powers to win. Only after the Valkyrie had exhausted all of the dance routines the human had shown her in adolescence, with a not so great turn out.
Tamsin had only cast doubt once before, on Massimo, and she wasn't quite sure how she had done it. She remembers being angry and a little scared. At the Druid for kidnapping her, fearful of the knife he pressed to Bo's throat. It all just happened so fast. Later on at the party, she was expected to simply... pull it out of her ass and win the game that she was suckered into. Something Tamsin considered daunting, the equivalent to crying on command.
She leans over the table and lines up her next shot; seven to the four and into the corner pocket. The cue ball hits the combination and sends the purple ball home, and Tamsin smiles at the flawless execution and not at the near fateful You got served moment at the Morrigan's party. Upon reflection, the so called duel could be laughable, if you removed the key factor of the loser dying at the end.
Whether Tamsin's an optimist or a pessimist, she's not sure yet, but there were definitely hints of futility circling like vultures over her hopefulness that day. She stood mortified while Kaia danced out her well choreographed fuck you routine, and for a small moment, Tamsin actually entertained the thought that this day would be her last.
It wasn't until that life saving bulb flickered overhead and illuminated such a grand beacon of an idea. Tamsin thought of the moments prior, of Kaia punching Bruce in the face for his insubordination. He was a pretty big guy, probably had more than his fair share of scraps in the past, but still, he was human and the Fae possessed an obscene amount of strength that over powered even the strongest of mortals.
Tamsin squints her eyes aligning this more difficult shot on the table, remembering that look on Bruce's face in the draw back. Bloodied nose, most likely broken, but probably not as painful as the shame he was feeling. That did it for Tamsin, made her angry, and Kaia never did quite stick the landing on that front flip. The sound of Kaia's neck as it snapped in two, it's a similar sound the billiard balls make cracking together on the table.
Bruce was safe and Tamsin was still breathing. And hell, the disappointed look on the Morrigan's face was an added bonus. All was right in the world... for now.
Tamsin had triumphed that day, but it only gave her bittersweet joy. Later on in the night, as she lie in bed, her mind still raced and her eyes stubbornly refused to rest. She tried to chalk it up to Kenzi and Bruce's incessant sleepover chattering across the room, and perhaps the excitement of the day and the residual buzz. Either way, Tamsin stared at the ceiling and innocently tuned into the pair's conversation.
Tamsin pauses the pool game for a moment and gazes at the array of moves she could possibly make next. But as she stands at rest, leaning against the pool stick, Kenzi's words to Bruce the other night echo again in her head.
Spread your wings and fly.
Then and even now, she feels her own wings eagerly twitch from underneath her skin, like they're begging to be freed, like they long for some kind of release that Tamsin isn't even sure of yet. She eventually scoffs at herself and at the thought. Even if she were to take Kenzi's indirect advice, where would Tamsin even go? Find her family? She has no family that she can recall and as far as she's concerned, Kenzi and Bo are her family. And sometimes Dyson and Trick... but regardless, Tamsin is content knowing that at least.
Things were finally beginning to settle down, and heck, even Bo and Kenzi had cleared the murky waters their friendship was starting to wade. The pair sit at the bar appearing to be intensely engaged in some long awaited dishing. And Tamsin was fine giving the two some space. Honestly, it was about damn time they shook hands and made up.
Tamsin could see the rest of the day going on and ending the same way it started. Uncomplicated, relaxing... easy.
That was, until the woman in white stumbled into the bar.
X
Ianka the Alkonost, a rare descendant of bird people and maybe Tamsin's distant cousin considering the whole bird comparison. Apparently, she could sing and according to Trick, Ianka's vocal stylings could evoke memories. A fun fact that immediately peaked Tamsin's interest for obvious reasons. She stalked in the background, listened while the others spoke as if their words fell upon seemingly deaf ears. Slowly, she pieced together the bits of this story as it unfolded.
Bamber the Buraqian, Ianka's pompous keeper and perhaps the biggest asshole Tamsin's ever had the displeasure of meeting. She's heard of the Fae owning humans, but Fae owning other Fae? Where did it end? But Tamsin's immediate dislike of Bamber wasn't fully set in stone until he had begun shamelessly bargaining with Bo. The hot item in question was Kenzi. Not only did he refer to her friend as chattel, the initially low price he offered was downright insulting. Tamsin would have punched the smugness right off his face if Bo hadn't stepped between them.
Just like Bo to play mediator. After all, Bamber was all that stood between Ianka's freedom and her total death train recall. Tamsin calmed down a little knowing that Bo had a reason for taking the high road. Bo was playing the long game that would benefit everyone in the end... except Bamber. Tamsin will take much pleasure laughing in his face later.
Today was definitely going to be one of those interesting days at the Dal. Tamsin's taking mental notes of all the new things she's learning.
1. Ball control. There's a way you can manipulate the cue to go where ever you want. For instance, later on and after Bamber rubbed her the wrong way, Tamsin really wanted it to fly off the table and hit him square in the face.
2. The Fae aren't above using advanced technology to spy, but they are sentimental sticks in the mud. Example: GPS chip cleverly concealed in the tacky Atlantian quartz necklace Ianka is wearing.
3. Bo and Dyson are as inconspicuous as two elephants sneaking into a peanut factory. And the walls of the barrel room aren't as thick as they think.
4. Trick has many faces, but none of them are as priceless as the one he makes when he leaves the barrel room...
5. Russians are feisty when they're jealous. Tamsin might lock Kenzi and Hale in said barrel room if they don't stop tiptoeing around their feelings.
Somehow Bo was able to talk Bamber into letting Ianka preform, and the stage and chairs are set up in no time. Tamsin leans against a pillar in the back of the house, watching as people file in and take their seats. Nipping from a random glass of something clear and very strong found abandoned at a table, Tamsin waits patiently while Ianka takes her sweet time preparing for her Dal debut.
"What's taking so long?" Tamsin wonders aloud as Kenzi materializes by her side. Her friend is distracted or nervous. She bites her polished nails and looks around the bar for someone in particular, and Tamsin knows just who that someone might be.
"She's probably warming up her deep throat before the show," Kenzi bitterly replies. "Did you know singer in Russian actually means whore? Only it doesn't..." she pouts. Insecurity looks terrible on Kenzi, but not any more than this heartsick face she's making while eyeing the closed door to Tricks study. Tamsin can only guess which pair of people could be behind it, and she hopes that Hale's stupid hat isn't blocking the circulation to his brain. Kenzi should just go distract herself for a little while, she thinks.
"Wait. Why're you still here? Didn't Trick tell you to like am-scray?" Tamsin's overheard what an Alkonost's song can do to humans, vaguely, but the gist was bad. Kenzi's brain could turn to soup, but the human doesn't seem to be bothered by that at all.
"Trick says a lot of silly things." Kenzi waves her away, still peering around the bar. "I've put up with his fiddle-dee-fiddle-doo, steal-me-pot-o-gold, pluck-me-holy-clover music for four years, I think I can handle one set of Bjork live, thank you."
"Suit yourself then," Tamsin shrugs. "But don't come drooling to me when you forget how to breathe," she says, chuckling at the amusing thought as she raises the glass back to her lips.
"Whatcha drinkin there Tam-Tam?" Kenzi turns to Tamsin mid sip with that clever but suspicious look that Tamsin's seen before. A question Kenzi already knows the answer to, but finds it funny to ask anyway.
"Water..." Tamsin nearly coughs out and smiles dishonestly as she attempts to mask the grimace reflecting the alcohol's strong taste. Kenzi raises a brow and... here we go.
"Yeah, sure," Kenzi remarks sarcastically, rolling her eyes dramatically as she swipes the glass right out of Tamsin's hand. How in the world did she get so good at snatching things? She lifts the brim up to her nose and frowns. "Just as I suspected. It's of the fermented potato variety."
"For the love of-" Tamsin laments with frustration. "Will you stop with the over-momming already? I can have one drink! I'm not a child!" Even though Tamsin's obviously reached full maturity, it still amazes her that Kenzi refuses to let go of this parenting role. She's about to commit to her now daily routine of a ranting to Kenzi about how she's a big girl now, but Kenzi cuts her off before the tirade ever begins. The human's attention is drawn elsewhere, and when Tamsin trails the path of Kenzi's stare, she forgets her own outrage. A certain man wearing a fedora steps into the bar and Kenzi may very well have forgotten how to blink.
"Umm... hold that.. angsty thought..." Kenzi says, hushing the air near Tamsin's mouth absentmindedly with a raised hand that's immediately swatted away.
Tamsin rolls her eyes in slight disgust of the doey ones Kenzi's beaming across the room. "Do us all a favor," she says, and places a friendly hand on Kenzi's shoulder to regain her focus. A few words of encouragement come to mind; altruistic or simply kind reassurances to motivate Kenzi in the right direction. But Tamsin's loud mouth tramples over all of them. "Bang each other already."
"What?" Kenzi exclaims.
"You know..." Tamsin goes to mimic an explicit act with her fingers, but Kenzi slaps them away before the not so subtle hand gesture is ever consummated.
"I cant just-" Kenzi tries to argue, but is quickly interrupted.
"I see the way you look at each other Kenz. Yeah, it makes me vomit in my mouth a little... but at the same time, I think you guys would be perfect together. Like peas and fucking carrots and everyone seems to know that but you two idiots. You're making this out to be more complicated than it is. You want him, go get him. Simple."
To Tamsin, at least, it should be. She cannot seem to grasp why it's so difficult for her friend, who always says what's on her mind, to express her feelings in this regard. Emotions are emotions. Why should love any different?
"As much as I appreciate your ever so insightful candor and self talk... the reality is, we're just two very different people Tamsin."
"How so?"
"Ex cop..." Kenzi motions towards Hale off in the distance and then to herself, "Retired con artist."
"Retired?"
"Purchases things with actual money... has no money," she says but Tamsin just blankly stares. "Descendant of high and mighty, sticks up their asses, Zamura Clan... bastard child of Ukrainian street gypsies. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
"Yeah, I do," Tamsin scoffs. "He's Fae and you're human and blah blah blah... All aboard the shitty excuse train to Denial Town."
"Making pit stops in Afraid-to-confront-my-feelings-Ville," Kenzi pouts sullenly. "God, why do you have to be so real right now?"
"If not me, then who?" Tamsin grins.
Just then, the demeanor of the room shifts, as Ianka takes to the stage. "Better get outta here before you turn into a vegetable," Tamsin warns. Kenzi nods in agreement and disappears behind the door to Trick's study.
A lone spectator once again, Tamsin takes back her spot leaning against the pillar. Arms folded, eyes locked onto the songstress and ears vigilant. An eerie silence falls over the crowd as the anticipation spreads almost fluently.
Ianka begins to sing, and damn if her voice isn't the most heavenly thing Tamsin's ever heard in her somewhat short life. The melody carries waves of sweetness through the air, flowing with an elegance to all those who listen. Tamsin closes her eyes, as if lost and losing herself to this beautiful song.
What she sees behind the closed shutters though, is far from bliss...
...There's smoke, and far too much of it. The scent of petrol and burning metal is almost suffocating. It fills Tamsin's lungs with caustic fumes that burn within her chest. She can feel streams of something warm and viscous trailing across her face, into her mouth, nose, and eyes as they rapidly blink. It tastes of copper and death... it tastes awful.
And her head is throbbing, building with a kind of pressure like it's caught in a slow turning vice. The first thing she can make out through the thick plumes of smoke and the blinding migraine; a steering wheel and something white and deflated hanging from it's center. She's confused for a moment, but when that metallic tasting stream follows along her face, hangs from the tip of her nose and falls up instead of down, Tamsin comes to a horrible realization. That gravity hasn't shifted in opposition, but that she's hanging upside down... suspended from a seat in car that she was most certainly driving.
Tamsin looks around hazily; through the dust and smoke that hang heavily in the air, through the blood that stings and blurs her vision. She sees a figure on the passenger side, restricted much in the way she is, only their arms dangling over head and unmoving suggest lifelessness. Tamsin fans away the smoke for better revealing, finding that her passenger is a man. And that man is Dyson.
A rush of something like adrenaline suddenly kicks in, and Tamsin finds herself practically clawing at her own seat belt, frantically trying to tear it away. In a click, she crashes hard against the roof. The restricted space makes it awkward to maneuver, but she manages to crawl through the door-less threshold. On elbows and knees, the gravel mixed with bits of broken glass rip through her clothes and bite her skin. But it's a dull pain, the kind that's so easy to ignore. The real pain starts when she goes to stand.
It's white hot, blinding even. Erupting from the center of her thigh and firing in all directions, the sudden shock of it seems to cancel out everything else. Her surely broken leg, it's all she can think about for a moment. For a moment until she feels this hateful heat radiating across her face. Now it's the overturned truck that calls her attention, and the flames violently licking the sides of the smashed engine compartment.
By the time she hobbles around to the other end, they've just grown more intense. Smoke billows into the air and trails a thick black cloud high above the wreckage. Just how high, she doesn't know, doesn't care. Stumbling and falling before the passenger door, Tamsin's only concern is the person trapped on the other side. With every last bit of reserved strength, she pulls, feeling the jagged metal edges tear into her palms, her muscles screaming from the exertion.
The door finally gives away. Dyson hangs limp in his seat, shirtless, covered in a terrible red that slips against her fingers as she goes to reach for him. He comes free after much stubbornness, after enough time. When she separates them from the mangled mess, the flames have nearly taken over, building and burning hotter than before.
It's a scramble to get away. She uses what remaining energy in what feels like a dying body to kick and pull. The heels of her shoes dig into the dirt and gravel as she inches them further and further away from the inferno. Dyson's so heavy, and Tamsin's so weak, but she drags and grits her teeth through all the muscles tearing apart. She thinks they're on fire more than this truck is.
A small explosion sounds, a short blast surely to precede the final big bang. They're not nearly far away enough yet, and maybe that's why Tamsin turns them over, so that she's looking down upon Dyson. Dead or just dead to the world.
Tamsin feels the force of the second explosion before her ears register the boom. The sudden blast that hits her with splintering heat and something else entirely that completely knocks her over.
She falls hard against Dyson, the wind literally stolen from her. She lifts up and tries to breath, but the sharp pain in her chest prevents her from doing so. More and more, Tamsin feels like she's drowning every time she attempts to suck in a breath of air.
A blackness snakes from all corners, encroaching and blurring her vision. She can barely make out Dyson lying underneath her, or the fists she's beating on his chest, or the red that falls from her and pools on his skin. Slowly she finds herself sinking. Lower and lower, until she's just as still as he is.
With the warmth against her cheek, Tamsin doesn't feel the pain anymore. It's gone, probably taken along with all of the smoke rising to the sky, as she soon will be it seems. But she's here, for now, for just a moment longer. Long enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest, to hear the reliable rhythm of his heart beating safely beneath...
The music stops abruptly and Tamsin gasps as she opens her welling eyes. For a moment the memory feels as fresh as this reality she lives in. Clutching the panic in her chest, Tamsin's eyes dart around the room, searching and searching. There's a feeling of relief that washes over her, when she spots Dyson among the crowd. Sitting content in his chair, perfectly fine and without a scratch. It takes her too many seconds to distinguish past from present and she shakes her head to dislodge this unfavorable vision of him.
He's alive, she's alive... well now she is, but the feeling of just dying hits her hard, square and center. The pain she felt still ghosts in her chest, like it's still there. Tamsin takes a deep breath, remembering what it was like to be unable to breathe at all, and she tries to fight the tears building up in her eyes.
She sniffles and quickly wipes whatever traces away. Tamsin hates to cry, and she's embarrassed at first until she notices that most of the people in the bar, too, share the same emotional effects.
"God, what a bunch of cry babies," Tamsin scoffs and blots the corners of her eyes one final time. There's an unattended glass of something amber sitting on the bar, next to a man who could really use a tissue instead of a drink. Tamsin swipes it and downs the contents in one gulp, sighing as she slams it back on the bar. The rush of warmth that immediately follows has a reassuring quality to it, and Tamsin slowly starts to feel better again.
All the while, the man who's drink she's just stolen continues to weep vigorously into his palms, in a way that makes her skin crawl. Tamsin awkwardly slaps his back anyway. "Hey... dude... it's gonna be alright yknow," she says, even though her tone sounds unconvincing even to her. He comes up from his hands and looks to Tamsin, and at this time she doesn't know what makes her feel more or less uncomfortable. His immense crying jag, or that now he's looking to her like she's some sort of angel.
Just then, a commotion erupts in the bar, and their gazes are torn back to the stage area. A man, clad in a general's uniform, stands center next to Ianka. He's holds up a small remote in his hand and yells something about a bomb and... the rest is lost to Tamsin after hearing the word bomb.
"Yeah, I lied," Tamsin shakes her head. "Shit's about to get worse."
Today being interesting was definitely an understatement.