All In

She wasn't the sort to seek entry or welcome, maybe it was the old threadbare way of how her life had become so unraveled. She had loved and lost over and over again that in these moments the notion of 'to hell with it' had become her motto.

Spade just didn't care any more but then looking back who could blame her? She had lost a fiance and her unborn child, had broken hearts and had her heart broken. Then there was the whole presence of one that got under her skin when she felt like her world was falling apart.

Maybe the world had shattered and she just didn't realize it quite yet. The time at the Dark Court and taking over the Hounds had been somewhat of a recovery session for Spade, but even then she knew no matter how much she was truly a Daughter of Donovan, she was meant to be alone and play at the life of solitaire once more.

It wasn't at the shelter that she found herself returning but instead to arrive on the doorstep of the club she had become so familiar with even if it seemed so long ago.

She couldn't go back to the life and ways she had back when she was running Cloud Nine but sometimes the past came back to haunt her. The letter from Ariahn had said enough in its undercurrents and dark lush way of indian ink insinuations.

The Crimson Scarf belonged to her now and with it all the responsibility of all its secrets and sins.

Tourmaline eyes closed as she near staggered under the weight of that responsibility as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

There was so much of the past that remained here in her return and yet she found herself realizing it was time to make that change and take the risk. To go all in and challenge the future with a new outlook.

But first... there was something she had to do.

One last look at the woman she used to be before the scissors were raised and the raven dark of curls became severed and shorn.

New look. New Beginning. New Life.

This was only the start of the risk she took...but she would have it no other way.

The minutes ticked by until finally they seemed to come to a stand still. The sensory pause in time had tourmaline depths returning to her reflection in the mirror as hands rose to tentatively touch the shorn strands of her hair. It would take some time to fix the bob from its jagged severed stage but it would suit for now.

A heart beat pause and her eyes lowered to the floor where the shorn strands of her hair rested coiled around her bare feet as onyx serpents lying motionless in the dim light until the colors of amethyst and sapphire picked up and through the tendrils of hair to reveal their true identity. To reveal her true identity.

The decision made left her to feel light hearted and spirited as if she was finding her way to a new skin and form. This was no glamour no matter her birthright as a leanan sidhe. The tattoos would remain, roving sleek black dogs to move and writhe and run their pattern across her skin. The dress was chosen as an after thought, black and simple with shimmering straps to cross her otherwise exposed back.

For a moment she paused with uncertainty as she remembered the one impossible to forget, a flood of emotions stifled as her hand rose to cover the pendant worn. There was a theory of happy ever after she once had believed in. Well she did still believe in it but for Spade it seemed impossible. Maybe such was meant for only her sisters.

Change... she just needed change.

Which meant that even the past had to be renovated. She stepped out of her room to look around the sight of the Crimson Scarf waking up. The idea came forth then to spark as lightning and shadows within her and she smiled to herself as she descended the stairs.

"Gavin, I need your help..."

Her smile was that of mischief and old habits as she gazed up at the tall, muscular bouncer as she self consciously ran a hand along her shorn strands.

"What is it, Sidonie?"
"I want to change the Scarf... it shouldn't be a fetish club anymore, that's old news ... we should cater now more to your kind. Truly."
"My kind?"

Gavin knew exactly what she meant but he had to hear it with his own ears from the Unseelie Fae. The smile on her lips only deepened to bring forth those irresistable dimples as her fingers reached out to tap on his chest as tourmaline depths took on their true tri-colored nature.

"What would you say to giving this place... a makeover. I'm thinking perhaps a bar and I wanted to call it the Hair of the Dog."

The husky growl of laughter that escaped the bouncer's throat was all the answer she needed. Now it was time to get to work and bring the Hounds home...

“So why is the potential and future Queen of the Dark Court, not to mention the Gabrielle of the Hunt so willing to leave behind her own people to run with the wolves?”



The words came unexpected from the often quiet bouncer as Sidonie looked to him from where she was looking over the blue prints for the Crimson Scarf. It didn’t seem so difficult to transform the fetish club into a nightclub and bar for those infected with the disease or even that were natural born wolves. Still the words brought tourmaline eyes to fix their intense liquid depths upon Gavin as she smiled slowly. For a moment he easily could feel the pull and draw of the Fae to his spirit and body as if she was silently beckoning him with her own will before with a blink the moment passed.



“Because I have discovered that I seem to fit in more with the wolves… then I do with anyone else. Even my own kind. The question is if your people would accept me. I know well of the wars between the packs. You yourself could be an Ulfric and yet… you turn away. I find that curious.”



Her look easily was sensual in its simplicity as she leaned forward over the bar. Ever since she had left the Dark Court and given over the control of the Hunt to Yanev she had felt that irresistible and unnatural pull towards the wolves in a way that was far more tempting and intense than any other emotion she had experienced. It was even stronger then the emotions she had felt when she had lost Greg and her unborn child and yet it felt remarkably similar to the feelings stirred within her by the one that had tried to bring her out of her dark hours before she had left.



The memory brought her reeling back into reality as she clutched on to the pendant she wore, Gavin’s answer was left unheard as she worked to shake herself from that manipulative and magnetic pull towards the other wolf as she made all attempts to swallow down that stir of desire. Breathing in deeply she looked away as she realized the only thing that was keeping her from physically reacting to Gavin was the fact she knew he was mated.



At least that had changed within Spade, she just couldn’t allow herself to manipulate or seduce one she knew was bound to another. Shaking her head with a wistful smile she flashed one of her heart stopping smiles and offered that coy wink to Gavin.



“C’mon we have a lot of work to do… and needless to say we may just need help. I figure if everything goes as planned this place can be neutral territory for all the packs… but then… who knows.”



I helpless shrug as she turned back to the paperwork and blueprints even as her fingers continued to paw at the pendant she wore. Even as she became achingly aware she was trying to surround herself with wolves to forget others better suited for wings…

The weeks had passed, rolling into months as the development of the Crimson Scarf into the new construction of the Hair of the Dog was underway. Gavin had become an asset and strangely enough his quirky mate had a creative insight that Spade would never imagine was even possible for the bizarre gold haired girl. She knew easily from her conversations with the pair that others of their pack weren't as eager to assist. The idea of course pleased them but the notion of a Sidhe to claim ownership and status would not.

Like any other time and place, Sidonie had found just another niche in a location where she did not belong.

"Don't worry they will come around, once Siran returns they all will be more reasonable. She and the Ulfric are far more understanding when the rest... and he's not quite himself without her, so don't think too much of what he says."

Spade found herself blinking out of her reverie as her vision swam back into focus to rest upon the woman with her aged emerald city eyes and gold dust curls before she smiled to Zo.

"It's alright I'm used to being the misfit."
"Misfit?"

Her laughter rang as clear as a bell, bright and mischievious as she reflected an almost angelic smile back toward Sidonie. A quiet understanding and kinship easily was stirred between the pair of women that were so very different at that moment. Shrugging Zo continued on in her delicate tangent born ramble.

"Don't worry. When the Geri and Freki come around they'll give you some guff but you can ignore them, they're all big words and growls with bared teeth but unless it's a true battle or betrayal their harmless to the pack. There are others too that aren't so unwilling to accept new blood. You'll see."

Dimples rose and brought life to the poet's features as she smiled to Spade and gave her a reassuring squeeze of hand before running off to find her mate.

Zo's departure left Spade again with an empty room and her own thoughts. Slowly but surely she was realizing that Zo's words were coming true... this place was starting to feel like home and a place to belong... if only she could rid herself of the feeling within her heart that something... still was missing.

The realization settled in as she frowned gloomily at her whiskey glass before raising it to her lips to be drained. Spade knew it was the truth deep inside...

This place would never be home if her heart was not there...

He watches.

It's been his place since time began, since love was found to be one of the penultimate driving forces of the universe, since he can remember. Ever the watchful, guiding spirit, a good friend and a whisper in one's ear that points them in the right direction to find the way to their happy ending.

Not that it always came out in a happy ending - a lot of times it doesn't. It's his place to point the way...once the wheels are in motion it's all up to the people themselves to forge their path ahead, or to let things fall apart.

It takes work, a lot of work.

Now he watches, peering into the currents of time and space, watching pale skin, dark, shorn strands, eyes that had held so much heat and light and were now only a veneer to conceal the emptiness that so much failure and pain had created.

Not her failures.

His.

He feels the presence behind him before he speaks, but only just.

"Why do you insist on only watching, Cooper?"

He sighs, though he doesn't look away from that lovely, lean, curving shape. One that could stalk, and prowl, and worm their way into the hardest of hearts, a spirit that was easy to fall for, and yet only the most determined could begin to imagine holding on to. Hers is the way of wind, water, and fire, wild and winsome and all-consuming.

"Hello, Gabriel. Who sent you?"

He can feel the weight of that stare on his back, dark eyes and dark features set in lines of careful neutrality. "Only the Father sends me, and we have not heard from Him in some time. I come now on my own concerns."

With a sigh he reaches towards the vision before his eyes, tantalizing in its proximity and sight, and yet - like the mythos of his own creation - seemingly forever out of reach. Even so, he fancies he can feel the warm skin of her cheek, the strong lines of her jaw as his hand moves over this projection in a soft caress.

"I watch because it is my duty, old friend."

The soft sound of a snort comes from the unseen figure behind him. "It is only part of your duty, and a small one at that. That aside, she is the only one you watch." Even without looking, Cooper can sense the curiosity in his fellow angel's gaze. "You could do more than just watch. Why do you remain here?"

It's a long time before he answers, consumed by the lovely form before his eyes, the features of soft beauty and hard strength. Finally he brings his hand back to his side, bowing his head with another deep, weighted breath.

"I failed her, Gabriel. When she left I didn't follow, as I should have. I didn't do everything I could have, should have done...I simply let her go her way."

"But you never stopped watching."

"I never will."

There's silence for a long time, during which he watches the figure before him.

The Spade, the Gabrielle. Huntress and hunted.

He'd watched for so long, by turns haunted, sad, jealous, angry, proud, happy for her.

But still he can see that hunger, that hurt, that emptiness in her eyes, even when she's smiling or working or...anything. Like looking at a pool of water, cool and inviting you to dive in to deep, clear blue, cool depths, only to find the bottom is perhaps six inches beneath the surface.

There are others he watches, pairings that have lasted through ages and others that have only just been forged, just beginning. Still others, ages in the making and brought together by patience, time and design.

All here, so close to this one, this final piece.

"You should go to her." The deep, ominous voice cuts through his thoughts, visions of so may loves, those lost and those still existing, those cut off and those just beginning.

He closes his eyes, shaking his head. "I should never have left. I don't know if I can go back."

Another long moment of silence, before he can feel the other angel withdrawing, a final question echoing in his ears. "You will never know until you try, will you?"

She had worn herself out, exhausted herself with every vain attempts in hopes that it would rid her mind of the thoughts that consumed. No matter what she did or what emotion she tried to overlap the soul rendering emotion of a broken heart, the same emotion would always return. The grief, the loneliness, the agony bled through the undying love she couldn't stop from feeling.

Spade had tried so hard to make the feeling go away, once he had come in her life she had denied it for so long but when he left... that was when the reality set in and the world seemed to crash around her. Even the air she breathed in made her feel like she was suffocating. This was hardly existing, not without him. Spade understood now that you never realized how you could feel for another until they were gone. That very life lesson seemed to be inflicted upon her over and over again any more.

The loss of so many had left her painting on the cheery, mischievious, flirty facade they expected of her, what they didn't realize was deep beneath that veener of painted emotion she was dying inside and breaking a bit more. She wouldn't let them see, especially on those nights when she felt like maybe he was there watching her. She would just straighten her back a bit more, watt up her smile, and share that spirit she was notorious for.

It helped cover the fact that each night she prayed someone would end her misery. She had tried to hate him, had made every vain attempt to cease the emotions that stirred through her as a blissful wildfire but still they remained... and for what? Nothing.

Everyone left her behind. Just like they always did. How and why would he be any different.

She had believed in him for so long it was hard to believe that perhaps she was better off understanding what it must be like to possess faith in nothing.

Another night over with a plastered on smile before she could lock the world away from her with just the close of her bedroom door.

Only then would she truly fall apart as she sank down the length of the door and ended in a crumpled heap on the floor.

All in ruins for the fact she was just a little too late in telling him she loved him, it was far too late... and she had lost it all...

with just one slight of hand, Spade had lost it all.

The construction's going along beautifully. When the Spade hade come to him about reforming the Scarf into something oriented a bit more towards the most bestial of clientele, he had been too glad to help the club gravitate towards that direction.

Not that he'd had any problems with working for a fetish club - being a bouncer is being a bouncer, no matter where you are, and few people would argue with the tall, broad, tattooed expanse of man that could appear from nowhere, seemingly already aware of a problem before it could begin.

He can credit that to his animal instincts - millenia of existing, as a lone wolf or occasionally among his animal cousins, for the times the loneliness took hold, became too much to bear any longer.

He can't relate to humans, not so well - not since so long ago, when a fearful band of men hunted down and slaughtered the only pack he'd ever cared to lead. Not since then had he took the position of Alpha, of Ulfric as some called it, the lead dog, so to speak. That act had led to their destruction, though not at his hands - he had been the last survivor, hunted but never captured, and finally leaving them behind when he saw he could not find peace.

Their lives had been ended at the hands, or claws, or teeth of those he and his had sought only to keep at bay - they had in the end killed themselves, and - in eyes of the old wolf - they had deserved their fates.

Life carries on.

The hour is early yet in the day, and there are still things to be done before they can find themselves open for business. Drinks, food, furniture, music, entertainment of various kinds.

Furniture was mostly done, anyway. Given that the greater majority of customers will be those of rather greater strength than average, it has to be heavy, sturdy...but there has to be a touch of class there, too. Nothing cheap, with an eye towards function as well as form. The bar was set up already - a thing of beauty, covering nearly half the wall on the lower level, solid, thick mahogany lovingly hand-crafted and carved in intricate design with scenes that would appeal to the hunter in all of them - wild scenes, predators to prey and prey to predators, the ongoing struggle of life against death and death against life.

He's wondered whose taste that had been more towards, Spade's, or Zo's.

The tables are much the same, solid and heavy, though made out of hickory stained a dark red to resemble cherry. He had done much of the staining himself, wanting to keep the colors dark and appealing to those wishing a haven, a safe ground, neutral territory.

He's sure there may have to be some correction of behaviors for a little while before they get the point - certain things will not be tolerated.

And then there's the boss lady herself to consider.

He's no fool, has never been. Despite the brave face she puts on, thanks to those same animal instincts and empathic leanings, he can tell, beneath that bright and cheerful exterior, there is a void, a howling black hole that is slowly consuming her.

There have been nights he's been tempted to take her in his arms,. to pull her close, if only to show her she is not alone in this world. That there are others here that care, that love her, though perhaps not in the way she needs most. Were it an earlier time, even as recent as two years prior, he might have, perhaps, tried to fill that place.

But he has Zo now, a name that still brings a smile to his lips when it passes through his thoughts - which is often. Wild as the wind is love, he's heard somewhere, and the slim, winsome girl embodied that phrase to perfection.

For now - before the day's work starts - he's standing on the edge of the overhang that covers the outside dining area, complete with another bar, an island in the middle of the dining area that is smaller than the one inside, but no less sturdy. The wood is black, and hard enough to seem almost like stone, and in the surface he can see carvings resembling the four suits of a standard deck of cards - prominent among them, of course, the Spade.

Zo's idea, that, he's sure. Or perhaps both, but he'd bet it had been his willowy mate that had suggested the design.

The cigarette in between his fingers gets a light flick of his thumb, shedding a small swirl of ash and sparks as his mismatched eyes scan the street beyond the parking lot, which was nearly too small to support the old patronage, and - he hopes - will be far too small to contain the new. From the street beyond comes the rising and falling sounds of passing automobiles of varying types - cars, trucks, motorcycles.

He's about to turn to go inside, raising the nearly-spent cigarette to his lips for a final drag, when he hears the unmistakable sound of American-made muscle on two wheels, slowing down for an approach.

The bike, a blood-red, sleek street machine of obviously American design, with huge, flaring chrome pipes along the right side, rumbles in an echoing, growling voice as the rider guns the throttle, coasting into the lot. The man aside this iron pony is himself dressed in black jeans, boots of some reptilian hide, a grey t-shirt under a leather jacket, with shades to cover his eyes, short-cropped dark hair, and a nose just a tad too large for his face that enhanced rather than detracted from his overall appearance, giving it an almost instantly-likeable kind of character that goes with the smile under it that looks like it belongs on his face as surely as the carefully trimmed moustache and goatee around it.

Absently, he strokes his own face, along the hair down to his chin, an unconscious gesture he never seems to catch himself doing, save for those times he sees it on others, inevitably followed by a moment of self-directed amusement. The man, his bike, and his scent are all unfamiliar to the bouncer - they'd not yet had a prospective customer, nor so much as a curious passerby, though Zo had made it a point to plaster her self-printed 'COMING SOON' posters all over the town in seemingly random places.

Not to mention the huge (and quite colorful) sign at the entrance to the parking lot with the same painted on it.

This one is, as far as he can tell, just a man - nothing out of the ordinary, though his walk displays a confidence that suggests he knows how to handle himself. There's a difference, Gavin knows, between a man looking for trouble, and a man who's ready for it. This one is clearly the latter, with his easy stride and casual way of looking around him. The shades are pulled off to reveal eyes the dark grey-blue of summer thunderheads seen on the underside, with flecks of gold showing in oddly symmetrical patterns.

Despite his usual misgivings about outsiders that he doesn't know, he finds he likes the man instinctively. That carefree manner reminded him of a certain other he'd once known, before...so much happened.

So many losses. Part of him mourns for her, for what she has lost.

But there's always another part that hopes there may be something, some power out there that can help her fill that void he sees, the one that she is hiding behind. That cheerful outward demeanor reminds him of the sunshine on a quarry hole he'd known in younger years - it looked inviting, but beneath those sunny waters there were depths untold, an empty cold void that had claimed many lives over as many years.

Pushing the thoughts aside for the moment, he turns his attention to the younger man getting off his bike and walking towards him. "We're not open yet, if you're wondering." He's pretty sure the man does - he doesn't have the look of a customer.

The younger man comes to a halt within a few feet, looking directly at him with that same easy grin, nodding. "Ah figgered 's'much, mon ami. De sighns y'all've plastered up all over de town made dat clear 'nuff. Ah'm act'ally 'ere t'inquire after a job, if ya might be needin' a cook, er mebbe a barkeep."

That gets a blink from the old wolf as he arches an eyebrow. Actually, he didn't know what positions needed to be filled - he'd mostly been busying himself with the more functional aspects of running the place, until they had a solid opening date, at which point there might have been some discussion about personnel. In fact he'd been pretty sure that - in the beginning, anyway - it would have been just Spade, himself, and maybe one or two holdovers from the old Crimson Scarf.

His voice falls into an unconscious imitative drawl, a lightly twangier version of the other's almost musical Cajun accent. "T'be completely honest with ya, hoss, I'm not sure what positions need t'be filled at this p'ticular time. I'd have t'ask the boss when she comes in." Giving the Cajun a pointed once over, he goes on, "I can ask 'er for ya, though. What's yer name, hoss?"

The young man's grin widens as he extends a hand towards Gavin. "Rene Gautreaux, but m'friends all call me Gator."

Her laughter was a shining color of sound to prove the easy delight of Zo's persona and nature as the first appearance of slender gold dust fingers dipped in black ink of far too much work and not near enough play curled around the window frame. Open windows ever would become easy exit routes for the wisp frame of Zo as she smiled openly.

Bright and vibrant as polished gold that smile and the clarity of emerald city eyes knew their sparkling light again as the accents and drawls of the two men had brought along her own awakening of intrigue. Then again when did Zo sleep anymore, the mere thought had her pondering as she chewed absently along her lower lip. Cupid's bow of a smile fell in a slant before she remembered her reason of retreat from her drawings and writings.

"All of them I think."

As off kilter and happenstance as could be her interruption of the conversation came without forewarning or welcome. Bare feet found the floor boards of the porch as she padded in her sweet silence closer to the pair of men. Instinct would always draw her closer to her mate, curiousity drew her towards the Gator. He didn't smell of wolf but he smelled of other tempting tasty treats.

The scent brought a giggle from her as she covered her face before stepping in a hide and go seek pattern shyly behind Gavin, the brightness of her eyes playful as an inquisitively shy child as she peered around her mate's arm.

Ink stained fingers drew on Gavin's skin, the curiousity all the more peaked as she sketched absently at his skin. Words amongst the bold brilliance of his tattoos even as her wild bright eyes set upon the Gator.

The delicate state of her mind had gone into a spirited place once more as she found herself staring at the clouds for a moment.

"You should come in or not, the Spade won't mind but it's about to rain...some don't mind it much...but others not so."

Oh the blush that was creep crawling its way on her skin as she shivered in place behind Gavin, a quick flight of fingers in a flurry of gestures of welcome and offering before she nibbled on her thumb.

Wondering wiles again of the girl as her eyes fit to the Gator. "What's a Haven?"

Before he could answer the girl went bashful and shy once more tugging easy to her mate's hand to draw him on inside even as she dismissively waved her last inquiry away from Rene.

"We could use a cook or a tender or whatever you will. I think we all will start fresh and new yes? It's better that way. New bright beginnings... where we all come back home."