Sieg hated flying...
humming aircraft, people putting their feet, cutting their nails, letting their shirts dry in there like they were home, the crying fucking children, Nine-hour flight with no stop? His ass felt numb, but none more so than his ears—Alice had several questions for him and no amount of shushing or looks from the passengers could out her fire.
"You're not normal, are you?"
"Sweetheart, you've no blood in your veins—I don't think you should be pointing fingers." He looked at the card again, the airport had a cacophony of sounds going on and it was starting to piss him off. "Now let's go catch us a cab and get the hell out of this sardine can."
But she kept asking, and asking, and asking 'til Sieg just wanted to jump off a bridge. When the cab finally started nearing Denali and it's town limits, He finally snapped. Just as she was puckering her lips to ask him something else—he rose a hand, flicked her forehead and watched as her eyes roll all the way back into her forehead.
She fell limp to his shoulder and while no breath left her body, Sieg knew she was alive. Alive as her species could be anyways. Aye, he could not help the deja-vu that churned inside of him, couldn't curb the want to kiss her forehead like he use to but he bit it back—refusing to allow himself such a luxury even it was the end. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders as they hit a pothole and the jerk the car gave sent his lips bumping against her forehead...the familiar Amaryllis smell he'd always loved about her filled his nostrils like a drug.
Invading not only that sense but all of his other four. It invaded his sense of right so that before long, he found himself running his pointer along her sharp jawline, and lining his hands to hers like old times; perfect fit as always. He even hummed an old song she use to sing him back then, one she'd sung him the very first day they'd med—Sieg remembered it like it'd just been yesterday. Aye, evidently, it's what had changed his mind. All the heart and love she put into that angelic voice of hers. Sieg remembered craving that like nothing else.
A voice he'd so loved, now he could barely stand to hear it without pain. And not pain like the goofer dust gave him. No this was a raw, red pain that clawed and burned at his insides every time he looked, heard, or even thought of her. Thought of what he had done and he'd been doing so well ignoring it these past years. Now here he was, resorting to pausing her brain just to shield himself from remembering the worst parts.
This allowed him a moment to be selfish, allowed him a second to admit to himself that despite all of the danger that was mounting up against them, just by being in the same place, that he was happy. The happiest he'd been since 1920 really and he'd been drowning in women since he'd been born. He chuckled at the thought, then he looked at her and his blood pressure rose.
"I'm glad you found me again, Chickadee."
Hell deep down, he'd been hoping for it...
#
Now near The Denali mountains was this bit of private property absolutely surrounded by forest life. Nice house, nicer cars, dead people. The whole thing stood out like a sore thumb.
But Sieg knew he was in the right place the moment he laid eyes on it, yes sir. So he paid the cabby, paid him again for discretion, then paid him to stop asking questions. Only when he'd finally gone did Sieg hoist chick—Alice over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and start towards the trees. He emerged minutes later before an extravagant pair of gates.
Great big, iron ones that rose taller than him and thinking that ringing the bell would be rude this time o' night, Sieg jumped them. Electricity popped into existence soon as he touched the iron but he paid it no mind. It was no problem either, not 'til he reached the front door anyways—he made it past the Victorian garden and all the way to the stone walkway before he started feeling the company.
People started appearing in the windows, peeking out at him for a size up. So he went to the door singing for the three little pigs to let him in. "Except it's a whole soccer team o' you in there, innit?"
No answer came to him directly, but he heard whispers. So he waited. When seconds stretched to several minutes and he still found himself on the doorstep like a chump, Sieg said enough. Tightening his hold on Alice so she didn't fall, he stepped back into his left foot for power, rose his right, and was about to hurl it forward when the door suddenly, finally swung open. A chalk pale man appeared there all blond, he came at the door like a marionette—eyes wide, stiff like a robot, and expression all weird like he'd just smelled something extra funky. Sieg looked at this man and suddenly felt like a teenager again and that had been a long time gone—BCE typa long. He looked at that man and felt the need to puff himself up to look bigger. He looked at him and saw a challenge. Competition.
Then he remembered what he'd done to Alice, why he'd done it, and deflated inside. He didn't deserve to look at that boy like an equal, what he'd done was so unforgivable—he didn't even deserve to fight for her so he didn't. He wouldn't and he wouldn't.
So he sighed his defeat, replaced all his pain with snark before lowering Alice into a bridal hold, he plastered on a smirk that exposed his row of razors and cocked his head at the still marionette.
"Think I've got something o' yours here, Jasper. Won't you roll out the red carpet for us?
