Hi guys! After a really heavy chapter 19, chapter 20 is going to be easy breezy from start to finish. I LOVE this one.
I mentioned the possibility of updating Bloodline before updating This Is Us again. You should know better than to believe a word I say. And with that said, I don't wanna jinx anything but Bloodline 29 is getting there. Seriously. It's coming. 6 months late but it's coming. (Doesn't help that I'm already itching to rewrite it from scratch like I'm doing with this one).
To "Guest" - broooo your comments make me melt every single time. You could leave nothing but key smashes and I'd still treasure it for the rest of my life because you are SO good. Thank you.
Chapter 20: Here's To Everyone (But Mostly Us)
T - MINUS 0 DAYS, 0 HOURS, 45 MINUTES TIL OPENING NIGHT
"I know I always tell you that Government Official would be a much more accurate job title than Vampire Prince. But I have to admit, the ceremonial cloaks look even more royal up close." Kurda casually remarked as Mika fumbled with the golden clasp in front of the mirror a few feet away. Mika arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. The fact that the clasp and collar were gold plated was about all the garment had going for it. It had been black at one point, but it was so faded it clashed with the rest of Mika's monochrome aesthetic. It was hot and itchy and stiff. Mostly he was just looking forward to taking the thing off.
"Thought you said we were Democratically Elected Autocratic Dictators-For-Life. And personally, I think that sounds better." Mika replied, only half-paying attention. Somehow he was still having the same battle with this stupid clasp, even after all the Festivals he'd spent in this stupid cloak.
"I stand by it. Emphasis on dictator." Said Kurda swiftly. Mika was focused on his own reflection in the mirror, but he could hear the satisfied smirk in Kurda's voice. Mika stifled a chuckle.
"Want to hear one of my dirty secrets? It's a good one." Mika commented, dead-eyeing Kurda with mock seriousness through the mirror. "I hate the ceremonial cloaks."
"Stop wearing them, then. What's the point of being a dictator if you aren't even your own boss?"
"As long as Paris is alive, I will never be my own boss. He's made it clear the cloaks aren't going anywhere. Thinks it'd be disrespectful to break tradition, because Osca Velm personally designed them to commemorate the first official Festival of the Undead after the war."
"I didn't know Sire Velm had an eye for fashion." Said Kurda. He was trying to feign seriousness just as Mika had, but it was a thin disguise.
"Are… are you looking at the same cloak I'm looking at?" Mika asked. "His eye for fashion was blind."
"Mika, you stockpile identical black shirts like there's a worldwide shortage." Said Kurda, more critically than Mika felt was necessary. "You're not allowed to talk about fashion."
"Aren't I? Name one time you've seen me show up looking uncoordinated. You can't. That's not an accident." Mika retorted. He stepped back to give himself a once-over in the mirror. And there it was, right on cue. That fleeting moment of imposter syndrome. It never failed to blindside him every time he put on this cloak. The cloak.
Mika knew he was a good Prince. He could see his loyalty and dedication reflected in the eyes of the clan. He worked hard to live his dream. He led with both confidence and competence. He was acutely qualified for the job. And he knew all of that. Yet every twelve years when he put this cloak on and looked in the mirror, all he saw was a nepotism brat playing dress-up. Or a talented actor who took "fake it til you make it" a little too far. A fake.
He realized the clasp on the neck of the cloak was off-centre, and groaned in frustration.
"This has to be a joke. Osca's laughing at me right now. I know it."
"Yes, Mika. You're so important that your predecessor felt the need to plan your grand sabotage before you were even born." Kurda laughed, mischief in his eyes. "Sire Velm was definitely out to get you, and for that I applaud him."
Mika was still gazing critically at himself in the mirror, but in the background he had a clear view of Kurda who was standing a few feet behind him with that teasing grin on his face. And it was only because of the mirror that Mika realized he was smiling too. Just as quickly as it came, the self-doubt vanished into thin air.
"Turn around." Said Kurda after a pause.
"Why, so you can make fun of me to my face?"
"Obviously."
Mika swivelled to face him head-on, eyebrows raised. "Fine. Do your worst. Get it over with."
Kurda stood back, hands on his hips, looking Mika up and down as he presumably gathered ammunition. Undoubtedly the official verdict would go along the lines of 'that cloak makes your ego look even bigger than usual'. Then Kurda smiled again, a little strangely. Mika didn't know quite what to make of it.
"I've got nothing." Said Kurda at last. "You look good, Mika."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Mika blurted out, more defensively than he'd intended.
"Wait, I take that back. This is a mess. How can you not do this properly after all these years?" Suddenly Kurda was directly inside Mika's personal space bubble, fiddling determinedly with the golden clasp.
"This is only my fifth Festival with the cloak. And usually I've already started drinking by the time we put them on." Mika rolled his eyes and studied the ceiling, because Kurda's face was inches away and he wasn't about to look at it.
"Yes, you definitely sound much more credible when you put it that way." Kurda snorted as he worked away at the clasp. "Almost got it… there."
Kurda looked up, beaming triumphantly. Only then did Mika look directly at him. And suddenly the dusty, pretentious cloak was the furthest thing from his mind.
It wasn't that Kurda looked different than usual. The only thing out of the ordinary was the fact that he too was wearing a cloak - like the Princes, the Generals often broke out the more traditional garb to honour the occasion. And this one just so happened to be the exact same shade of blue as his eyes. But it really wasn't the cloak itself that caught Mika's attention. In fact he had no explanation for why he felt like he was seeing Kurda for the first time in his life. Maybe it was because Mika had never really seen Kurda smile at him like this. Kurda smiled at everyone, because he was Kurda. But usually he saved this smile for Gracie. This smile was the closest Mika had been to sunlight since committing himself to the vampire clan.
"What are you looking at?" Kurda asked. He said it with a hesitant chuckle, half sarcastic and half no seriously why are you looking at me like that?
Fuck, I'm staring, Mika realized with a jolt. Abort. Abort. "…Did you do something different with your hair?" He supplied bluntly, then winced internally at how fucking stupid that sounded. He had to say something. And that was something, alright. What the fuck kind of save was that? And why?
"Well, I showered. Combed it a little. It's a special night after all." Said Kurda, carelessly running a hand through the golden strands that fell halfway to his shoulders. There were plenty of vampires (Mika included) who believed good hygiene and vampirism could coexist just fine, but Mika had never seen anyone anywhere with hair that looked as soft as Kurda's. It defied the laws of nature.
"Figures. You take about ten showers a week." Mika remarked. The words came out more gruffly than he intended, but Kurda wasn't phased. He was never phased, not even by Mika. Especially not by Mika. The gleam in Kurda's eyes only brightened as he shot back,
"Which is almost as many as you take."
"I've spent too much time with Vancha not to become intensely conscious of my own personal hygiene." Mika defended his case, fighting the urge to laugh because he really wasn't exaggerating. "His throne's beside mine. When he's around, I never want anyone to question where the smell is coming from."
"If it makes you feel better, I've never found you smelly. Compared to the average vampire you actually smell refreshingly neutral." Kurda replied frankly, then added with a completely straight face - "It was always your personality I found off-putting."
"Perfect. That's exactly what I was going for." Said Mika. So much for keeping up appearances. He was grinning hopelessly now, he couldn't help it. The stress of the past several months was already a distant memory, and he no longer noticed how itchy the stupid ceremonial cloak felt against the backs of his arms. All he felt was good. So good.
Contrary to what his chronic resting bitch face suggested, Mika considered himself happy with his life overall. What was there to complain about? He achieved everything he wanted, and he did it early enough that he'd get to enjoy the view from the top for centuries to come. Yet suddenly he was wondering if he'd even scratched the surface of what happiness was supposed to feel like. Where was this coming from?
"Shouldn't you be pre-drinking with Arrow right now?" Kurda asked, pulling Mika's focus away from internal analysis and back to reality.
"I'll get there when I get there."
"Don't keep him waiting too long. He's going to think you forgot about him."
The irony was that for just a moment, Mika actually had forgotten all about the long-standing tradition with his best friend. Suddenly there were a thousand words spinning through his brain and he couldn't leave this room until he at least tried to say them. Even a few of them would be better than nothing.
"Kurda?"
"Yes?"
Mika felt his legendary silver tongue turn to lead in his mouth. Not exactly a strong start.
"It's been a long couple of years." He managed after a pause. Kurda nodded in affirmation. Not for the first time, Mika was certain Kurda already knew what was on his mind.
"Has it been that long? Seems like just yesterday I moved into your storage room for what was supposed to be, in your words, three months at the absolute most." Kurda chuckled.
"It's not as if we didn't try to find her a home in the human world. We were busy! Remember we had a few leads? Then Chok died, that was a whole thing. Then you went on your diplomacy mission. Which was great for you, but -"
"I was prepared to sit it out! You're the one who practically forced me to go!"
"And I wouldn't have done that if I knew I'd get stuck taking care of a five pound tarantula by myself! At least you made up for it when you got home and broke Warwent's face."
"Don't remind me." Kurda grimaced.
"Why not? I think about it all the time. Highlight of my year, and I wasn't even the one in the ring with him." Said Mika. He couldn't help but smirk at the memory.
"I guess it wasn't as bad as the Caliban debacle." Said Kurda, running a hand through his hair - his shiny, shiny hair - thoughtfully.
"Fuck, I'd forgotten about him. So you had a shitty boyfriend for two weeks, so what? I had the world's worst flu strain for a month."
"Your bravery is inspiring. I'm so sorry you endured such a pervasive man cold. Remember the night I got buried alive with a double-fractured femur?"
"Hard to forget something you work into the conversation at least three times a day." Said Mika wryly. It was easier to be sarcastic than it was to move onto the next item on the highlight reel, which of course would've been "Remember two nights ago when I went to the dark place and you found out how much of a disaster I actually am?"
Kurda was still smiling, but something in his eyes changed. And Mika knew it didn't matter whether he said it or not. They were both thinking about it.
"Like you said. Been a long couple of years." Said Kurda quietly. "But we're still here, aren't we?"
Mika paused, and he almost didn't say what was really on his mind. But this moment would pass, and he didn't want to have any regrets. He cautiously reached out and ran his fingertip down Kurda's exposed forearm, willing the words not to fail him.
"I've lost count of the number of times you saved me, Kurda. But I didn't deserve any of it. I don't know how you put up with me. I don't even want to put up with myself sometimes, but you -"
"Don't." Kurda stopped Mika in his tracks, shaking his head determinedly. "Don't do that. This is supposed to be a happy night. It's your night. You put in the work, now all you have to do is enjoy it. I'm just glad to be along for the ride."
When Kurda's voice caught in his throat, Mika stopped thinking. He'd never been a hugger but suddenly anything seemed better than another futile attempt to put his thoughts into words. So he took a step closer and wrapped his arms tightly around Kurda's smaller frame. If Kurda was surprised he didn't show it. At least now Mika knew for sure that golden hair was exactly as soft as it looked, because the fingers of his right hand were caught up in it.
This was more than calm. This was peace. Kurda didn't just believe in peace - it was his life force. Mika had only ever felt like this once before. The first night he took care of Gracie by himself, one week in. The night it clicked. Kurda was in a four-hour conference. Gracie was crying. Mika was self-doubt-spiralling. Until finally he picked her up. Within seconds she did the little yawn-sigh thing and fell asleep on his chest. That was the turning point. The moment Mika realized, oh. I'm doing something right.
He didn't think he'd ever feel that again. But here he was. And he was so blindsided he almost didn't hear Kurda whisper,
"You save me too, Mika. More than you know."
"You save me too, Mika. More than you know." Kurda's voice was muffled by Mika's shoulder and he wasn't even totally sure Mika had heard him.
While Kurda knew Mika was a good deal nicer than he led everyone to believe, he also knew Mika didn't like hugs. With the obvious exception of Gracie, the only person to whom Mika ever showed physical affection was Arrow. And the hugs Mika and Arrow exchanged practically qualified as violent assault. Surely they both had perpetually dislocated ribs from how hard they slapped each other's backs. But now Mika's hand was cupped gently around the back of Kurda's neck as if holding a priceless treasure, fingers buried in his hair like a lifeline.
Kurda leaned into the embrace and inhaled as he closed his eyes. Then he wondered how it had taken him this long to notice that Mika didn't just smell neutral, he smelled good. Like cedarwood and fresh mountain air. Kurda closed his eyes and inhaled it all, slipping his arms under the old cloak, around Mika's back. Only the thin fabric of a black t-shirt separated Kurda's palms from the strands of muscle beneath. Gods, no wonder Mika walked around this place like he was ten feet tall and bulletproof. Mika radiated power on such an undeniable frequency that Kurda felt it in his bones.
He wasn't surprised when Mika abruptly drew away. Even without the preceding turmoil of the past week, opening night was always emotionally charged. No wonder Mika had let the uncharacteristic embrace linger for as long as he did. Kurda took it in stride, and smiled placidly while taking a respectful step back.
"Listen, I don't want to make you late for the ceremony, but I have to circle back to one thing." Said Kurda, his voice adopting a pointedly serious inflection. "I'm sorry, but there is no way Lovely weighs five pounds."
"Have you seen him?! If he gets any bigger I'm moving to a different mountain." Mika protested vehemently. Running with that obvious change of topic seemed all too easy for him, and he laughed in a way that suggested he was relieved that Kurda hadn't stopped to inquire what kind of hug was that?
"Promise?" Kurda teased.
"Please. You're not getting rid of me that easily." Mika rolled his eyes and bumped Kurda's shoulder with his own as he strolled over to the hydration station he kept on his desk. Cup of water for health, mug of blood for stamina, shot of whiskey for fun. In that order. Tonight was Mika's night to indulge in the full Festival experience while Kurda stayed sober and took care of Gracie. They'd swap tomorrow.
Mika stopped before he downed the shot, and glanced over at Kurda.
"Want one? In honour of the occasion?" Mika asked. "I know it's your turn to behave tonight, but one won't make you act up."
Kurda grinned and accepted the tiny glass Mika handed him. He wasn't about to turn down a celebratory shot, even if it was whiskey. And just for the record, it takes six shots for Kurda to act up. (Off the record, he's the equivalent of a human who acts up after half a shot. But we won't talk about that).
"What are we toasting?" Kurda asked as Mika poured his shot.
"You tell me."
"If I listed everything I felt deserved a toast right now, we'd miss the opening ceremony."
"Guess you'd better pick one." Said Mika briskly. "Don't overthink it. Just say the first thing that comes to your mind. Go."
Kurda didn't know what he was going to say, til he said it. "Us." He blurted out. "You, me, Gracie. It shouldn't work, but it does. Here's to us."
"Here's to us." Mika echoed as he raised his glass, smiling that wayward smile that came out whenever happiness caught him by surprise. There still was something guarded about him, though. Maybe he'd always be that way. Gods knew he'd already let Kurda further into his world than Kurda would've believed possible even a year ago. Maybe this was as close as they'd ever get.
They took their shots at the same time. As usual, Mika didn't flinch. As usual, Kurda gagged because whiskey tasted like what he imagined gasoline probably tasted like.
"I'd better go wake the princess up." Said Kurda, once he'd recovered.
Mika arched an eyebrow. "What ever happened to -" he heightened the pitch of his voice and affected a mocking, singsongy tone. "Stop calling her Princess, you'll give her an ego complex, you're not actually royalty, you're a glorified politician, something something big old dictator -"
"I don't sound like that!" Kurda protested. But he laughed as he playfully swatted Mika's shoulder. The voice may have been exaggerated, but there wasn't much point in denying those were all verbatim Kurda quotes.
"Sure you don't." Said Mika as he headed towards Gracie's door. But Kurda reached out and lightly grabbed his wrist, halting him.
"I'll get Gracie ready to go. You wait here. Sit down, pour yourself a drink. Enjoy the moment."
"Okay, you're being too nice. Even for you. What're you planning?"
"Trust me." Said Kurda cryptically. Mika looked skeptical, but didn't protest as Kurda retreated into Gracie's room to wake her up. He'd been planning this for a while - Gracie's very first (and hopefully only) Festival outfit. It wasn't fancy, but it was perfect. And Gracie loved it as much tonight as she had at the "dress rehearsal" a week ago when Kurda asked her seriously if she thought she'd be able to keep it secret until opening night. And with some difficulty and a lot of bribery, she hadn't spilled the beans.
And it was all worth it, because when she finally strolled out of her room like she was in the Miss Vampire Mountain pageant, there was a moment where Kurda was absolutely convinced Mika was going to cry, and Kurda wondered if he'd maybe done his job a little too well. He'd managed to find all of Mika's core wardrobe essentials, scaled down to Gracie-size. From the tiny black combat boots, to the leather jacket, to the black cloak with a golden clasp, to the t-shirt, to the steel-studded black leather belt. The sole difference was that Gracie's take on Mika's signature look was finished off with a ballerina tutu - black glitter, of course. To Kurda's knowledge, Mika didn't have one of those.
Although Mika recomposed himself impressively, Kurda couldn't help but notice he blinked a few times as he looked down at Gracie and said,
"Well, one of us is going to have to change."
And of course Gracie thought that was hilarious, and laughed so hard she almost fell over. Mika picked her up immediately and Kurda wished he could take a picture. Even with how much things had changed over the past two years, he'd still never seen Mika smile like this before.
"I just like Daddy!" Gracie declared, beaming as she sat happily in his arms. And as much as Kurda was bound and determined to keep her from ultimately walking the same path through life that Mika and himself both chose - the path of the night - he couldn't help but smile. Because the sight of Mika and Gracie grinning smugly at each other in their flawlessly coordinated outfits was doing something inexplicable to his heart.
"You wear it better. No contest." Said Mika as he held her at eye-level. He managed to look away from her long enough to glance at Kurda and ask with childlike wonder in his eyes, "How?!"
"Your signature look isn't exactly complex." Kurda laughed with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Paris was only too excited to get in on the joke. He had our tailors custom-make the cloak and belt for her, and she already had the other stuff in her closet. It was just a matter of putting it together. I know she can do your glare too, just not on command yet. It has to be authentic."
Mika chuckled at that, but quickly broke eye contact with Kurda. And Kurda knew he wasn't imagining it; Mika's eyes were definitely swimming. It was a dead giveaway that he was pointedly looking at Gracie instead of Kurda now. She was too young to notice such subtleties. Mika thought he was playing it cool, and Kurda let him believe it.
T - MINUS 0 DAYS, 0 HOURS, 5 MINUTES TIL OPENING CEREMONY
HALL OF STAHRVOS GLEN
Kurda had his doubts when one of Seba's staff swore up and down they could build a "microphone" that could amplify someone's voice across an entire room, because it didn't really work like that in Vampire Mountain. Kurda's technological experience was admittedly very limited, but he was pretty sure you needed electricity for that type of thing. Or perhaps a motor of some sort. Fuck if he knew.
He had a clear view of it now that he was seated in the front row, waiting for the Princes to start their speech. The amplifier was constructed with the late Chok Yamada in mind, and it had been Mika's idea. Chok always loved to speak at the opening ceremony but could no longer project his voice enough to be heard across the room. Unfortunately Chok passed away before he got to use it. Nevertheless the amplifier was up there in all its glory; a series of brass tubes connected to a large funnel mounted on the ledge of the balcony upon which the Princes gathered to commence the Festival of the Undead. The tubes were connected to much larger funnels in the front corners of the room. The staff had reported successful sound checks, and the speech was all that stood between the vampire clan and their beloved three-day bender.
Honestly, Kurda was grateful he finally had a good excuse to stay far away from the chaos. Once the party kicked off, most of the revellers would flock to the sporting halls. But Kurda would take Gracie up to the Hall of Khledon Lurt for some food and light socializing. It'd be quieter up there. Kurda would catch up with some friends and colleagues, maybe play some card games or a bit of chess, then retreat to tuck Gracie in. But Kurda would be the one sleeping like a baby knowing he'd feel perfectly fresh the next day while everyone else nursed violent hangovers.
While Kurda was looking forward to going to bed, Gracie's mind was on the eats.
"Daddy?" She piped up seriously, standing on the bench beside Kurda to look him directly in the eye. She placed her tiny hands on either side of his face to command his full attention, as she often did when she had an important point to make.
"Yes, angel?"
"I'm hungy."
"Just hang on for a few minutes, alright? Soon your Other Daddy will be up there with Uncle Arrow and Papa Paris. Get ready to give them a big wave." Said Kurda with deliberate enthusiasm as he pointed up at the balcony, hoping it'd take her mind off the munchies. It did not.
"…I'm hungy." Gracie repeated more slowly, like she couldn't fathom why her father wasn't taking immediate action to right this wrong. Kurda groaned internally. It wasn't as if she'd starve to death in the next half-hour, and Kurda didn't relish the thought of wading back through the clamouring crowd and rushing back upstairs to fetch the snack bag. He'd purposely left it behind; the hall was packed enough that he didn't want an extra accessory to carry for this portion of the night. Gracie was more than an armful. He decided to check in with Mika, who was already up in the waiting room behind the balcony with Paris and Arrow.
KS: Hey. Think I have time to run back for the snack bag? We're getting hangry.
MVL: We're almost ready to start. I have a pack of Gushers in my pocket. Was saving them for an emergency.
KS: Yeah, that checks out. We're on our way up.
While Kurda picks up Gracie and slips through the door in the corner to access the stairway, let's sidebar. The Gushers. By this point in time Kurda was heavily questioning whether they kept Fruit Gushers in stock to appease Gracie's sophisticated palate, or Mika's. Who was he kidding? Kurda never will forget the meeting a few months ago during which he was giving a report and heard an unmistakable crinkle from the other end of the table. Kurda turned around from the easel with the territory map he'd been referencing, and witnessed Mika unapologetically cracking open a pack of strawberry Fruit Gushers.
Back in the present, in the hidden waiting area beside the balcony, Kurda smiled ruefully as Mika handed over the sugary snack - to the great amusement of the small group of onlookers composed of Arrow, Paris, and Seba.
"A noble sacrifice." Paris remarked, nodding solemnly as his eyes twinkled. He was wearing a ceremonial cloak just like Mika's, except in a faded midnight blue.
"Sacrifice is the true pillar of parenthood, from what I have heard." Said Seba in the same mock-serious manner.
"Mika won't even share them with me." Arrow added reproachfully, and Mika rolled his eyes.
"Because you eat the whole package in one mouthful like an animal. You know where the town is. Go flit for your own snacks."
"So this is it, huh? Always wondered what it looked like from the other side." Said Kurda, glancing curiously around the small room. The waiting area wasn't fancy, but with the balcony around the corner he could feel the energy radiating from the crowd. He was well accustomed to public speaking and he'd dare say he even enjoyed it. But the idea of addressing a group of this magnitude still made him feel a little dizzy.
"Is it everything you ever dreamed of?" Mika smirked.
"I don't know. For some reason I always pictured you all doing something really meaningful up here during the final countdown." Said Kurda, shrugging. "Like reciting ancient prayers or burning incense or something. Who knows what you lot get up to when nobody's looking?"
"That's classified." Mika replied cryptically. But he was smiling, and Kurda smiled back at him. Mika was happy, and Kurda found happiness in that. And Gracie found happiness at the bottom of the tiny bag of Fruit Gushers. She was happily chomping away as Arrow tickled her chin.
"I wouldn't put your hands that close to her mouth while she's eating, Sire Uncle Arrow. She's liable to take your arm off." Kurda told him drily. Arrow glanced at Kurda, dark hazel eyes narrowed in a glare. But only for a moment, then he let out a great booming laugh. The others followed suit, Kurda included. And as he turned to go, he almost felt a little reluctant. Almost.
"Okay, Gracie. Time to get back to our seat. Can you say good luck to Daddy and Papa Paris and Uncle Arrow?" Kurda suggested to Gracie.
"You could just stay up here, if you want. There's no rules that Generals can't stand on the balcony. Probably safer that way. You won't get trampled." Said Mika. He spoke nonchalantly but there was something hopeful about him that suggested it wasn't actually about the safety concern. As if he genuinely wanted them here for this, one of the the most important moments of his life. As always, Kurda chalked that up to the fact that he was holding Gracie. If not for Gracie, Kurda would probably be sitting in a middle row right now. He'd be getting ready to roll his eyes as the crowd lost their shit when the Princes appeared. If not for Gracie, Kurda wouldn't be sharing this small but sacred moment. Glaring flaws and all, there was more love in this clan of warlike barbarians than Kurda had ever given them credit for.
As the moment loomed upon them, Kurda took his place in the corner beside Seba - they'd be out of sight from the crowd while still having a clear view. Seba watched the hourglass counting down to sunset while Princes readied themselves for their grand appearance. Paris didn't look phased in the slightest - if anything, he appeared almost bored. Arrow on the other hand looked a little green as he clutched the paper containing his portion of the speech. Kurda recalled Mika mentioning something about Arrow having an aversion to formal public speaking. Seemed that was an understatement.
And as for Mika himself, Kurda could practically see his mental gears turning - but not from stage fright. Mika genuinely loved this kind of thing, and everyone who knew him knew that. But now Kurda knew something they didn't: how much effort it took to make it look effortless. What Kurda didn't know was why Mika put so much pressure on himself. What did he have left to prove?
Kurda watched Mika close his eyes and take several deep, long breaths. He couldn't tell if Mika was psyching himself up to kick off the party of the decade, or reassuring himself that he deserved a place on the pedestal the clan put him on.
"Thirty seconds til sunset, Sires." Seba declared. Paris shot his old friend a final smile, then put an arm around both Mika and Arrow's shoulders. Kurda could've sworn Paris used to be taller, but now the others had to crouch a little to accommodate their older colleague's embrace. Paris whispered something that Kurda couldn't hear, but Mika laughed and Arrow looked a little less nervous.
"Ten seconds." Said Seba.
Mika glanced over his shoulder one more time. Kurda knew he was looking for Gracie, but their eyes met for a second. On the off chance that Mika actually needed it, Kurda nodded reassuringly and murmured - "Go get 'em."
The final grain of sand dropped to the bottom, and Seba grinned wickedly.
"Sunset is upon us! Bring it home, gentlemen."
The opening address was delivered as graciously as ever. It was never a particularly lengthy affair and this year was no exception. The three Princes split the speech between them, each more eloquent than the next. You'd never guess Arrow looked ready to hurl just five minutes ago. Or that Mika had spent the past two nights sleeping on the floor of a blanket tent surrounded by stuffed animals and children's books. And sure, Mika and Arrow would both inevitably end up dancing on a table before the night was over. But this particular moment demanded consummate professionalism, and they delivered it so well that Kurda momentarily forgot they actually shared one brain cell between the two of them.
They were in the home stretch when things went sideways.
If only Mika hadn't taken out his list of talking points. Why had he even bothered? It wasn't as if he relied on notes, unlike Arrow. He'd been off-book for weeks. The problem arose when Mika folded it up and put it back in his pocket. Because the crinkling paper sounded uncannily like a pack of Fruit Gushers. Gracie heard the crinkle, witnessed Mika's hand momentarily disappear into his pocket, and drew the conclusion there were more Fruit Gushers and he'd been holding out on her this whole time.
Kurda watched her bright blue eyes narrow shrewdly as her senses honed in on the sound. The way an apex predator stalks a helpless prey animal. He could practically hear her thinking, Daddy thinks he can pull a fast one on me? Not in my house.
"Gracie, he doesn't have any more Gushers!" Kurda whispered. But with the speed and merciless efficiency of a tiger shark on the hunt, she slipped out of his arms and darted across the balcony - straight to Mika. She moved at such a brisk pace she sort of had to crash into his leg to stop. But Mika didn't miss a beat, or falter as he spoke. He didn't even take his eyes off the crowd. The tall balcony ledge kept Gracie hidden from sight, so nobody would've guessed she was up there with him. It would've been all too easy for him keep his personal life distanced from a moment that required utmost seriousness. But Mika picked her up as automatically as if he'd been expecting her. There came a collective "Awwww" from the crowd as she peeked over the ledge and Kurda couldn't help but smile.
"What's wrong? You weren't the centre of attention for five minutes?" Mika asked Gracie in an undertone. When he refocused on the crowd he didn't look abashed in the slightest. "As I was saying, the twelve years since we last gathered here have been a time of unprecedented expansion rates within the human world. On behalf of Sires Skyle, Arrow, March, and myself, I'd like to extend gratitude to our Generals for the vigilance with which they monitor potential risks to our clan - now more than ever."
All three Princes began to applaud and the crowd quickly followed their lead. Within seconds it felt like the walls were shaking with the echoes of thunderous applause for the clan's Generals.
"As a final order of business, let us take a moment together to honour those who've gone to the afterlife between last council and this one." Paris added as the applause died down. He proceeded to read a list of about a dozen names, pausing after each so the audience could collectively make the Death's Touch sign and murmur "Even in death may he be triumphant" to pay final respects. The last name on the list was Sire Chok Yamada, and an extra long silence followed it. Mika was the one to break it eventually.
"And with that, we cease all official business until the Festival concludes. May the next three nights be full of old friends, new scars, hot food, and cold ale." Mika declared loudly. There was a rumble of affirmation from the crowd, and the atmosphere reached a new level of energy. It was almost time. The second he said May the luck of the vampires be with you, the free-for-all would officially begin. The excitement simmering in the air was palpable. Kurda was surprised when Mika paused and glanced at Gracie.
"What's that really important word I taught you? The one we use for special occasions?" Mika asked her quietly. He didn't speak into the amplifier but his voice still carried. The crowd chuckled as Gracie giggled knowingly, and Mika began silently mouthing the word "luck" to encourage her. Kurda knew in that moment what was about to happen. He wanted to stand up and shout, "abort mission!" but it was too late. All he could do was watch helplessly from the sidelines as Gracie replied,
"Fuck?"
The amplifier worked far too well. The innocent cuss echoed off every wall in the place and the crowd exploded into uproarious laughter. And as much as Kurda wanted to give Mika an earful because he'd told him so many times to watch his language to prevent this exact situation, it'd have to wait because Kurda was laughing as loudly as anyone else. And he could see Mika was fighting a losing battle to keep a straight face.
"Alright, you've got me there. That is a word we use for special occasions. I was thinking of the other one. Try again." Said Mika. He spoke so calmly. As if they had all the time in the world and there wasn't a crowd of thousands waiting on them. Kurda experienced a rush of fondness. Here was Mika, opening the Festival of the Undead. Living the dream, totally in his element doing what most vampires could only dream of. And he wasn't even looking at the crowd now.
But Gracie sure was. Her wide, inquisitive eyes were scanning the room as she took it all in from up high. But she didn't look scared or intimidated. Not even a little bit. Even with all those eyes on her, she was just as comfortable up there as Mika was. Kurda felt a twinge of emotion that he couldn't put a label on. The truth was, all the love and care in the world didn't change the fact that Gracie didn't actually belong here. That she should never have been here in the first place. That she couldn't be here forever. Mika knew that, right?
Kurda pushed it to the back of his mind. Inevitably they'd have to face the truth, but not tonight.
The amplifier didn't pick up whatever words of encouragement Mika was murmuring to Gracie now, but after a moment her face lit up with realization. She leaned purposefully towards the brass funnel and yelled,
"Luck!"
So that was the story of how Gracie formally kicked off the Festival of the Undead before she was even three years old. And when Mika retreated from the balcony, his expression was stuck halfway between grin and grimace. A bit of guilt because he knew full well it was his fault their daughter just swore in front of the entire clan. And a bit of pride because their daughter just swore in front of the entire clan and got a standing ovation.
Kurda quickly tried to rearrange his face into exasperation as Gracie beamed at him, but it was hard to commit because he was laughing so hard.
"Grace Arra Smahlt-Ver Leth, what do you have to say for yourself?" He managed to force out. It was a joke, but soon as the words passed his lips he felt a strange tug at his heartstrings. He immediately knew Mika felt it too. Of course she was their baby. But neither of them had ever strung those two surnames together before. Not out loud. Mika met his gaze for a moment, expression unreadable.
"Luck, Daddy!" Gracie chirped back at Kurda.
"Nailed it." Mika muttered to her. He held his fist up to her, and Gracie proudly bumped it with her own. She was grinning deviously up at him, nose wrinkled and eyes sparkling like she knew exactly what she did and wasn't sorry in the slightest. Mika looked at Kurda and added as an afterthought, "I really didn't think I swore that often."
Kurda facepalmed.
"Mika, hand over that baby and go play with your friends. You've done enough damage here. I don't want to see you til you've gotten all that stupid out of your system. Go! The clock is ticking."
They parted ways, and Kurda made his way up to the Hall of Khledon Lurt. The atmosphere there was as exuberant as anywhere else in the mountain, but those who prioritized fighting over feasting had joined the mob heading for the sporting halls. Kurda immediately spied a cluster of familiar faces gathered around a chess board in the corner.
While Kurda was the only self-proclaimed pacifist in the clan, he'd always naturally gravitated to others with similar interests. His friends certainly weren't opposed to traditional vampire revelry, but they found pleasure in quieter activities such as chess or card games. No wonder they hardly ever visited Vampire Mountain. The sporting halls were typically the main attraction for any vampire visiting the mountain when Council wasn't in session.
But gods, did it ever feel good to see a group of people glance up at him and grin when they saw who was approaching. They eagerly waved him over, shouting his name while raising their mugs of ale. Was this how it felt to be Mika?
Kurda's friends - Nic Nolan, Gryf Lwellyn, and Cyrus Karim. Kurda hugged each of them in turn, but held Cyrus longer than either of the others. And Cyrus hugged him back with such strength, it was hard to believe he'd been Kurda's meek and mild-mannered apprentice barely 70 years prior. Cyrus was the first human Kurda ever blooded into the clan. He'd trained a total of four apprentices thus far, but Cyrus was the only one who attended Council this year. Two were neck-deep in their cub phase while the third was recovering from a broken foot and hadn't been able to make the trek.
Kurda sat down at their table with Gracie in his lap. Once she had a cup of apple juice and the snack bag in front of her, she was jolly as any Festival reveller. Cyrus, Nic, and Gryf all took their introduction to Gracie about the same as Mika's friends had. They didn't get it, but were happy Kurda was happy and they acknowledged she was the cutest thing they'd ever seen in their lives.
"Why don't you show Uncle Cyrus some of the chess moves you learned this year?" Kurda suggested to his daughter in a stage whisper. He winked at his former apprentice as he said it - and Cyrus grinned in appreciation. Hey, if Mika could designate Aunts and Uncles at will, Kurda could too.
"I didn't know it was possible to teach chess to three year olds." Said Nic. He chuckled as Gracie eagerly grabbed a pawn.
"Two and a half, actually. It's a work in progress. Her main strategy is trying to eat the pieces." Kurda sighed as he intercepted the pawn before Gracie could put it in her mouth. "Paris got her started on the basics. I've just been helping her practice when we have time."
"You spend a lot of time with the Princes now?" Cyrus asked. He was arching an eyebrow and Kurda knew why. Kurda hadn't exactly forced his personal beliefs down his apprentice's throat, but he'd always been open with him. So Cyrus knew exactly how Kurda felt about the clan's hierarchal structure.
"I don't really have a choice." Said Kurda lightly.
"They really accepted a human into the mountain? Just like that?"
"Of course they did. What would they have done? Put Mika on trial? I'm sure it would've been a very different story if I'd brought her here of my own accord." Kurda explained, keeping both his voice and face perfectly neutral. "But Mika was there the night we found her, and we both felt compelled to hold ourselves accountable for the situation. And it's not as if we're ever going to blood her."
"Then what?" Gryf pressed. "She'll live out her days as a human among vampires? That almost seems worse than blooding her."
"Of course not. She'll have a normal life." Kurda replied. He was still smiling but he spoke tersely. Gryf had never exactly been the master of tact.
"So then you're going to just plunk her somewhere in the human world and carry on?"
"There'll be significantly more to it than that. But the plan is for her to fully return to the world she came from. We've already attempted it. A human family to raise her turned out to be harder than we'd anticipated."
"Hmm. I realize we don't go around blooding children willy-nilly like the old generation did, and with good reason…" Cyrus contributed with visible caution as he glanced pointedly at Kurda. "…but would you really be able to just let her go like that? What would you do if she came to you as an adult and asked -"
"She is a human, and she will live her life in peace and comfort. The centuries gained aren't worth the bloodshed and suffering required to succeed in our world." Kurda cut him off with more sharpness than was typical for him. "She's better than all this. Better than any of us."
And he meant it with every fibre of his being. A heavy silence hung over the table for a moment. Cyrus broke it eventually:
"None taken."
And with that, there was laughter. The others seemed to accept that Kurda was done with the topic, and they carried on the first chess match of the night - Kurda VS Nic. Well, mostly Nic's chess pieces VS Gracie's lightning-quick hands. That was until Uncle Cyrus whipped out a pack of cards and introduced Gracie to the world of gambling. Soon she was fully engrossed playing Go Fish with Cyrus and Gryf, leaving Kurda and Nic to finish their match. They laughed, they ate, they drank. Kurda couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun.
Kurda won the first match, and Nic rotated out to join the card game. Gryf slipped into his spot to challenge Kurda on the chess board.
"Alright, I have to know. What's Ver Leth really like? He's worse than you thought, isn't he?" Gryf inquired surreptitiously as he set his pieces up. His brow was furrowed like he was expecting some grand reveal. Kurda didn't blame him for wondering. He knew exactly how he would've responded two years earlier. He would've relished a chance to speak his truth to one of the few people he knew would agree with him that Mika Ver Leth is an egomaniacal, conceited, cold-hearted, self-serving dickhead and the only reason they hail him as a strategic genius is because he knows more big words than the average vampire!
Kurda let out a soft laugh of exasperation, and simply answered -
"I don't blame you if you don't believe me, but I've come to accept there's more to Mika than meets the eye. He's a bit of an acquired taste, but he… he's ultimately good. Better than he lets on, anyway. Let's just say that."
"I'll have to take your word for it." Said Gryf with a brittle smile. He almost looked disappointed by Kurda's diplomatic response. "I doubt I'll ever get close enough to find out for myself."
God herself couldn't have timed it better. No sooner had the words passed Gryf's lips than there came a shout from across the room, brimming with energy and intoxication -
"GENERAL SMAHLT!"
Kurda didn't have to turn around. Even if he hadn't immediately recognized the voice, the expressions of disbelief on his friends' faces was a dead giveaway. So was the way Gracie stood up, waved with both arms, and yelled back "Daddy!"
"There's my best friend!" Mika greeted her as he arrived at the table and ruffled her hair affectionately. As an afterthought, he nodded politely to Nic, Gryf, and Cyrus. "Gentlemen. Hope you've been enjoying the Festival."
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Said Kurda disparagingly, looking him up and down. Mika didn't appear to have sustained any gruesome injuries yet. But the night was still young. Mika completely bypassed the sarcasm and got right to the issue at hand.
"Kurda, you have the snack bag with you, right?"
"Of course I have the snack bag. And you have a fifty foot long table of vampire food to choose from. Go there." Said Kurda, pointing at the banquet table across the hall.
"There's at least a hundred people in line!" Mika protested. It wasn't quite a whine but it was close enough to be funny.
"Tell them you're a friend of Gracie Smahlt-Ver Leth. I bet they'll let you cut to the front. She's got a lot of sway from what I've heard." Kurda countered scathingly, earning a round of cautious chuckles from his friends. But he did hold out the snack bag so Mika could rummage through it. "You're the reason we have to flit to the outpost to restock every three weeks." Kurda added as Mika plucked out two bags of Goldfish crackers.
"One's for Arrow!" Said Mika, as if that justified anything. He stuffed one of the bags into his pocket, tore into the other and began munching away.
"I bet that would taste even better back in the sporting halls." Kurda told him, pointedly raising one eyebrow.
"Think I'm gonna embarrass you in front of your friends?" Mika scoffed back through a mouthful of Goldfish.
Fact: Sober Mika gets utterly irate over the sight of someone talking with their mouth full and will almost always call them out on it. Drunk Mika and Sober Mika wouldn't get along.
"I don't think you will. I know you will." Said Kurda.
"You should be more embarrassed that you didn't win this match two moves ago." Mika shot back, eagle eyes honed in on the chess board. Kurda scoffed, but Gryf's lip twitched at Mika's comment. And suddenly Kurda could see it too. Mika was right, gods fucking damn it. It was so obvious now.
"I didn't know you were a chess master, Sire." Said Gryf earnestly.
That was probably the comment that sealed the deal. Mika was powerless against his innermost competitive instincts, while Kurda was powerless to do anything but watch as Mika played and won three consecutive chess matches with Kurda's nearest and dearest friends. And because it was Mika, the crowd around the table tripled in size by the end of the first match. Apparently the idea of the fearsome Sire Ver Leth taking a break from the sporting halls to play board games was too intriguing to resist. When the onlookers started placing bets as if this was a fucking wrestling match, Kurda rolled his eyes so hard they almost detached from their sockets.
"As much as I appreciate you gracing us with your presence, you should really get back to the sporting halls before Arrow succumbs to separation anxiety." Kurda remarked, moments after Mika claimed victory against Nic Nolan.
Mika made a grand spectacle of stretching his arms up and over his head like he'd just completed a gruelling physical workout rather than winning a chess game. Then he rested his elbows on the table, propped his chin on his fist, and eyed Kurda dubiously.
"So you decided to worry about Arrow's emotional well-being for the first time in your life… right before you were due to take a turn. What a coincidence." Said Mika with mock indifference, glancing down at the chessboard then back up at Kurda.
Fact: It's a common misconception that pacifists can't also be fierce competitors in their own right. The reality is that two things are not mutually exclusive. At all. Kurda narrowed his eyes, but his face cracked into a wicked grin.
"Please. I just didn't want to humiliate you at your own party, Sire. But if you're proposing a challenge I suppose I'm honour-bound to accept. It's the Festival of the Undead, after all."
So began the duel.
No vampire on this earth had ever challenged Kurda like Mika did. And that proved just as true on the chessboard as it did in real life. Kurda didn't know if he'd consider himself a chess prodigy. But he did consider himself really fucking good at chess. Suddenly it seemed like such a wasted opportunity how almost six months had passed since Paris gifted Gracie with the chess set, yet Mika and Kurda never truly competed against each other till now. There were no holds barred. This was a battle of wit and strategy cutthroat enough to rival the many physical battles currently taking place elsewhere in the mountain. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Mika shrewdly matched Kurda's skill every step of the way, and Kurda didn't think he'd ever felt such sheer exhilaration in his life. Was this how the other vampires felt when they competed in the sporting halls? No wonder they were all so obsessed with -
Focus! Kurda chastised himself. If he beats you at your own game while you're sober, you lose all credibility. Mika Ver Leth does NOT get to be the sports guy AND the board games guy. Not on my watch. He was so busy fortifying his mental resilience with his silent pep-talk that took him an extra second to realize it was his turn. Mika didn't seem at all in a hurry, though. Which contradicted everything Kurda knew about him. He was just sitting there, almost as if he was studying Kurda. There was a hazy half-smile on his face. Kurda suspected he was trying to look drunker than he actually was. But Kurda saw right through him. He wasn't going to fall for it.
"What are you looking at?" Said Kurda coolly, regarding Mika through narrowed eyes.
"You. I've never seen you try to win before. You've got that same look on your face you get when you get heated about politics." Mika chuckled. "No wonder all the crusty old traditionalists have nightmares about you. I wouldn't want you as my enemy."
Not exactly what Kurda had been expecting, but he rolled with it.
"Now that's a compliment of the highest order." He responded with a brittle smile, more interested in the way Mika's eyes briefly darted to the chessboard, lingering on his Queen. It was a subtle tell, definitely unintentional. Mika handled his liquor well, but there's no way he would've been that careless sober. With one unassuming glance, he told Kurda exactly what his next move would be.
Kurda looked Mika dead in the eye and blocked the move before he realized he'd given himself away. Mika's jaw slackened for a fraction of a moment before he recomposed himself. But there wasn't a trace of disappointment on his face. In fact, Kurda could've sworn Mika was working to conceal something along the lines of exhilaration, awe, or even pride.
Kurda might've been intrigued by that, if there hadn't been so much adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was more determined than ever to win. And two moves later, he did just that.
Kurda couldn't believe the size of the crowd that had gathered, how loudly they toasted his victory. Or that Mika was cheering as enthusiastically as any of them. Kurda tried to play it cool. Tried to emulate the same laid-back mannerisms Mika did while in the spotlight. Kurda felt he mostly succeeded, but he could feel a warm flush creep into his cheeks as he took it all in. He glanced around at the onlookers to nod in gracious approval, but Mika's electric gaze pulled him. And for a moment Kurda just forgot they were sitting in a crowded room.
"How'd call my play three turns ago?" Mika inquired in an undertone as the crowd slowly began to disperse. "And I know you called it, because there's no way you would've moved your pawn like that otherwise."
"Please. You looked right at your Queen just before I made my move. You might as well have called the whole clan to the Hall of Princes to make a public announcement. It was so obvious." Kurda replied with a dismissive shrug. He meant it, too.
"How'd you get that from one look?" Mika replied, visibly baffled. "I mean, yeah. You nailed it. You knew exactly what I was going to do. But in theory I could've -" he went on to describe the three other ways he could've played that turn. And Kurda realized he didn't really have a good explanation for how he knew exactly which of the potential plays Mika was going to make. He just knew.
"Maybe I got lucky. Or maybe you're not as mysterious as you think you are." Said Kurda at last.
"Whatever. I'm going to go… hug some people down in the wrestling ring." Said Mika airily. He glanced at Gracie as he said hug.
"Anyone gone to sleep yet?" Kurda inquired, arching an eyebrow. He was really asking if there'd been any fatalities, and Mika caught his drift.
"No sleeps that I'm aware of. Just a few ouchies." Mika reassured him. In all honesty they probably could've just used the standard terminology. Gracie was half-submerged in the snack bag and wouldn't have noticed if the world was coming to an end.
It took Mika about ten minutes to actually get out of the Hall of Khledon Lurt. Every time he took a few steps closer to the door, he was eagerly hailed by yet another old friend, or acquaintance, or random drunk stranger who just wanted to take a moment to say holy fucking shit balls I'm your biggest fan. At least that's what Kurda assumed they were telling him - he couldn't actually hear the conversation from this side of the room.
Now that he'd moved to the side of the table facing the doorway, Kurda had a clear line of vision to study Mika's prolonged grand exit.
The rare occurrences - like tonight - when Kurda found himself in the focus of the public eye gave him an entirely new respect for Mika's innate ability to take all that attention in stride and handle it with grace. While he certainly enjoyed the attention, there was more to it than that. Mika didn't just love the fame. He loved the clan itself. Whether he was addressing them from his throne in the Hall of Princes, or celebrating among them as a friend, he truly loved this place and the people in it. And with every passing night, Kurda felt more and more convinced that Mika didn't have the slightest idea how much they loved him back.
As Mika was pulled into a conversation by some young General named Renley Azerion, Kurda found himself struggling to focus on the poker game he'd been playing with Cyrus. Maybe Kurda just had a better sense for this type of thing than the average vampire, but he found it excruciatingly obvious that Azerion was flirting. Kurda couldn't even hear what they were saying, but Azerion's posture said it all. Not to mention the angle he was standing on, back against the wall and right hip tilted towards Mika's. Having trained with the guy decades ago, that didn't surprise Kurda in the slightest. What surprised him was how oblivious Mika seemed.
Come on, Mika. The man is practically unbuckling your belt with his eyes. It's so transparent. Kurda thought to himself. Still, he couldn't take his eyes off of them. It was then he realized there was a tiny part of him that was curious to see how Mika would react to an obvious advance from another man. Then Azerion leaned closer and said something that made Mika roll his eyes and smirk. Then without warning, Mika glanced surreptitiously over Azerion's shoulder and met Kurda's gaze - like he knew Kurda was watching. It was too subtle for Azerion to catch on, but Kurda almost burst out laughing when Mika slightly raised one eyebrow as if to say, can you believe this guy?
That was when it clicked. There was no way Mika was as oblivious as he was letting on. He was just giving Azerion an ego check by blatantly refusing to acknowledge the signals. And anyone who knew Azerion knew he needed an ego check. The cocky prick could've had anyone he wanted. Almost anyone.
And with that said, Mika's body language remained completely at ease. He wasn't bothered by the fact that he'd caught Azerion's eye. Not even a little bit. He just stood there with his arms relaxed at his sides, hands tucked comfortably in his pockets, nodding and smiling politely as Azerion chattered away. Kurda couldn't help but notice how Mika maintained his personal space bubble without making an obvious effort to back away. Maybe he wanted to dismiss Azerion without humiliating him. Maybe he just enjoyed the flattery. Either way, he made what should've been an awkward situation look easy. He made it look good.
Suddenly Kurda felt the same subtle but undeniable thrill of intrigue he'd felt earlier that night as they got ready for the Festival together. Then without a shred of warning, the universe posed a question to Kurda that he never saw coming: Is Mika attractive?
On a subconscious level, Kurda had always been aware that Mika was, in fact, conventionally good looking. Six foot three of sculpted physique, clear skin, shiny hair, good teeth, not to mention the hygiene - all wrapped up in a sharp black t-shirt that fit just right. Kurda just chose not to acknowledge any of that on principle, due to Mika's personality.
At least, that was Kurda's official stance on all things Mika Ver Leth. In over a century he'd never wavered from that policy. Sure, things had changed and they were friends now. But was that magnetic glint in Mika's eyes a new feature? Or was Kurda only now allowing himself to see something that had been there all along?
Nah. Had to be a trick of the light. Just because Mika was attractive didn't mean Kurda was attracted to him. Kurda was much too smart for that. He knew better.
Closing notes:
1) I know they play "speed chess" in Vampire Mountain but their match had to be played in normal time for the sake of *plot development*.
2) Gracie swearing was inspired by that episode of Modern Family where Lily drops an F-bomb while being a flower girl in a family wedding.
3) Those of y'all who know Renley from Bloodline - I couldn't NOT pop him in here. It's DCU canon that Mika's caught his eye on several occasions over the years. But Renley doesn't become overly relevant to Mika's personal life until later in Bloodline and that part of this rewrite is staying the same. He's not going to stick around for the prequel.
4) Hey, thanks for being here! I really appreciate you taking the time to hang out with the little family that takes up way too much room in my heart. See you next time!
- roxy