The Hidden Evil

The Hidden

The city of Atlantis spread it's luminescent glow over the water streets below.
Centipede like creatures' blue frills ruffled along the sandy streets, drawing carriages along the waterway and under the arched bridges; which reminded Quinlin so much of the humans' attempt of replication of Atlantis. The city of Venice. The Water gateway, the 'city of love' Venice was called before the humans changed and gave that title to Paris after the World War II. "The most romantic city on earth"- Not that Quinlin cared for such notions any more. Nineteen bitter years of marriage and he was sick of the world at large. Sick of the deceit. The lack of answers, questions and trust displayed by the Council; even the Black Swan.
His leather boot scuffed along the paving. Th had been kept in impeccable condition by the elves for thousands of years. And Once walked by humans, the tall elf remembered. Quinlin of all people, like humans the best. It was something he had once enjoyed sharing with his closest friends: Alden, Diane, Tiergan and... Livvy.

So much trust broken...

Quinlin blinked his sapphire eyes again. Focusing on scenery to distract from the raw neck and cavity of his turmoilic recesses. The shop lines were coming past on the side: bakery, jewellery, etc. His jaw closing firm. Memories came unbidden.
Before Prentice.
He refused to be cognates with Alden again. Yet persuading Livvy to file a match-failed was like plucking memories from a shattered mind. His spine stiffened as he spotted pink gemstones waving in brown braided hair. Livvy.

"Speaking of the demon... she appears like summonings," Quinlin ground out his own sense of dark humour in his mind.
The council had recently put forth a summonings against some members. As a former Keeper, he was in charge of keeping such things, as record. ie. "What's the dirt on this person? and do you recall them being against us or criminally insane?"
Following the fail in his judgement with Prentice, Quinlin had dropped out of the position of Keeper.  Shattering his friend's mind...Wylie was 'okay', but Prentice's wife, Cyrah, had died.

Present day's concern, Livvy's head was spinning round towards his direction. Easily, Quinlin swerved round to another entrance, heading towards his destination. Ducking around the narrow side street in Atlantis catch an carriage. Below a low beam Quinlin bent, then before him was the sandy skimming Street lined full of creatures and carriages of choice. Cautiously he turned his head to the left. It seemed his ex-wife thought there should be come communication between the two of them for she was straddling down the main street. Quinlin then decided to run fast; his skills needed training after all. Obscurer activated, he bother very little. (Escaping Livvy was a good reason.)

The good and bad thing about being married to a person and escaping/avoiding them is, you know what they will do. The bad flip, is so did Livvy. Just after his own arrival, a carriage came. Part of him was tempted to start an argument, but his brain wanted to ignore her. He had work to do. Slipping out to back towards the pool, in the damp, cool sand, Quinlin dug to find a Roman coin from the pale sand.

Flipping the golden coin down to the bottom of the stairs, Quinlin let it land in the wishing pool and spoke two words.
"I wish for blockade."

It was the stupidest sentence, except for that very reason, no one think to say it. Livvy was brilliant at the convoluted, and complicated. Even if she acted like she liked things simple and straightforward. Quinlin the stepped into the gel opening and went through a wet blue jelly substance. The suction of it kicked his air out of his lungs and up he went: backwards, landing near the house's washing room. He was home. The smooth wall faced him as Quinlin lifted his wet sleeves. (And grimaced.)

A noise came behind him. Quinlin spun around.

"Wow," Livvy said, "You must have been really desperate to avoid me, this time."
"I wasn't," Quinlin said. Then added, "And I had thought you had more important things than to pester me and interfere with my work," Quinlin responded. (The point was to avoid another heated argument.) But since she was standing here, his anger was quickly getting out of check.
"Riiiight, 'cos that's so important right now," Livvy said.
"Better than useless fighting." His gaze narrowed, "Like your Moonlark does."

Her facial features twitched, as when he had just landed a score.
Quinlin grunted. "So that's what your collective is doing. Getting a bunch of teenagers and learning how to fight?"
"Is it better than snivelling in an office, collecting useless clues!" Livvy snapped back.
"My clues can help people," Quinlin argued back.
Her exhale came. "Yeah, this so wasn't why I came here today. I'd love to argue another time but a big bad is coming up."
"Like, they found out the ogres had invented another killer bug? Why am I not surprised," Quinlin retorted.
Livvy spun on her heels. He got the back of her head.
"I knew it was a bad idea trying to talk rationally with you," Livvy said.

She picked up her bag. Suddenly he picked up a smell in the purple bag. mallowmelts, his favourite. The only sweet he liked, besides peanut flavours. (Anger at bribery fashioned him response,)

"Then why did you come? Come to convince me not to dump you as a husband?"
(It was a low blow. But it felt good. Just.)
Her fist trembled with rage as she held the bag. Her silence meant- he had really ticked her off. He couldn't care enough whether she blew up or not.

"Peace-offering my foot!"
Then Livvy flew the mallowmelts his way with telekinesis. In shock, Quinlin barely managed to block the flying pastries in time. With one mallowmelt landing square in his mouth. As a very angry Livvy spun to face him, a smirk grew on her lips.
(Seeing him covered in icing puffs and sugar, Livvy reduced her spite a margin.) "Surprise and kindness actually suit you. And now you're eating that, I was calling on behalf of Amy," Livvy ended.

'A-m-y,' The muffle noise came out, and Quinlin's frown deepened. This was Livvy's plan all along. Eat so he couldn't talk.
"Yes, the kid has some ideas- for helping Sophie, if you are up for it." Livvy rolled her eyes at Quinlin's next mouth-mumbled statement. "And please don't do the whole 'you're a kid thing' again."

That was exactly was he was going to say.
"She is," Quinlin repeated his distinction returning; having swallowed the meltable, delicity delicacy.
An unabsolved union- argument sprang between the two.
(Livvy didn't engage in that final jab-battle. Instead she picked out a vial.)
Livvy said, "Whatever. I have work to do. Dealing with people- not ignoring the world."
Then using the very illegal Quintessence starlight, Livvy light leaped away. The clink of her pink jewelled braids had finally left the room.
After delivering this (final-verbal) blow, Quinlin was left (in peaceful solitude/the empty house) and he picked up a discarded mallowmelts in his hands. Now, Quinlin thought of his retort.
"You are so good at ignoring the state of your world too, Livvy," his mutter died away as Quinlin put one dented mallowmelt melted in his mouth.
His sapphire eyes brightened significantly. Good mallowmelt. Must get some from the bakery, Quinlin's reminded himself.

The tutting of the secretary came from down the hall. Since, this was his property and, the Council decided to spy on him, he decided to use some human technology to spy on them- or the secretary they placed him his office. Quinlin tapped the visually transmitting screen. Nothing big. Another client. Quinlin looked down at his soppy attire. His wet clothes hung to him.
Body temperature regulation would not fix it. Once again, Quinlin wished he was a Guster. Truly did he hate getting wet.