Blaise Mathieu Richelieu

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As soon as he was able, Blaise had given his orders that Rory be brought here to his manor, if he agreed, of course. There was still a chance the Scot would decline and Blaise wouldn't push the issue. He would just make sure there was a close Ventrue confidante in Scotland available to ensure Rory was well taken care of as he required under a Kindred influence like he was. But apparently Rory hadn't declined, and even more to the point, Buffy had been with him when he had woken. The doctors kept Rory another night when he expressed a wish to just want to sleep, so they let him. When he had been unconscious, it wouldn't have been a restful slumber. Not after being drained. Now he had to recuperate and regain his strength, ironically just like Blaise.

But now Blaise was awake and on his feet, which was a start. He was adorned in a midnight blue silk bathrobe tied loosely at his hip as he stood by and watched a nurse he had employed check over Rory in the king sized bed of the guest room he had offered him. Once again, the Scot just slept on, barely having said a lot when he was brought here. He needed assistance, which is why Blaise had the nurse brought here. She was Kindred, but worked in a mortal hospital. She was one of the best of her kind and more than happy to take the job Blaise offered her. Rory's blood pressure was still a little low, but he was healing well otherwise. Sleep would be a good thing. Blaise cleared his throat and glanced at his personal assitant standing beside him a few paces from the bed. "Jaquelynne. Bring me Mademoiselle Summers. I must speak to her in regards to Monsieur Buchanan."

( Blaise's eyes remained on the sleeping Scot, watching the nurse with him... )


Word Count | 3,792

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Blaise was holding himself up on the door jamb between his bedroom and his en suite bathroom. His eyes were closed and he rested his head against the cool iron frame of the door, trying to somehow draw on any lingering strength he had remaining in him. "Mon cherie... I'll summon Mademoiselle Rousseau for you," Jaquelynne, his assistant and personal friend, murmured, the concern evident in her helpless tone. She was standing behind him, her hand resting on his back in case he needed any help. It looked like he needed a lot of help, but he wasn't relinquishing to that yet.

"Non. Do not. I forbid you," Blaise said sharply, opening his eyes to lock her with a warning glare. But it lost its intensity as soon as it appeared and he moved sluggishly into the bathroom. "I do not what her in my presence." It indicated just how much of a rift had formed between the two mates in the wake of the events earlier in the day. But now, they just all felt like a lifetime ago to Blaise now the frenzy had diluted. He needed to feed to regain some strength, but he was too weak to face it yet. First, he had to try and rid his body of that tainted blood. It was too late to purge of it all, but he could try. Purging wasn't something he was foreign to. Vampires couldn't digest anything but blood, so when a Kindred ate food for the purpose of The Masquerade, they inevitably had to purge themselves of it at some juncture. It wasn't forgotten how ill he had felt trying to feed on Buffy's blood, but this was worse. Blaise felt just plain sick, and he hadn't felt like that in a very long time. In fact, it was likely during his Childer days, when he was still bouncing around like an excited puppy, biting into anything he could get his fangs into as he found his Kindred feet. All those years ago in his youth, he had been quite the player; exciteable, loving the company of ladies, and enjoying anything that could get his heart racing. Literally centuries later, his human self was but a distant memory. Risk was something he rarely flirted with unless he knew what he was dealing with.

( He was struggling to understand how blindsided he had been that evening... )


Word Count | 9,480

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There were four people in Riley's office right but, but he could actually swear blindly that there were eight. He was sitting at his desk trying his best to look like he could actually focus on them without going cross-eyed, but it wasn't the easiest of tasks he had ever faced. He blinked slowly a couple of times, his hands resting splayed on the desk. Man, was his head pounding. He was aware they were probably waiting for him to say something, and he would get to that. He would. In a moment when the room stopped spinning a little. After getting his head slammed into a concrete wall by an extremely pissed off Scotsman, who could really expect his brain to be functioning 100%? It was probably a miracle it was still attached to the interior of his skull. Beside his desk, Graham was standing in his camos, arms crossed as he just glared at Buffy. It was like he was waiting for her to say something negative against Riley to give him an excuse to bitch her out. "Graham, dude. Unless your ass is made of razor blades and you're gonna slice up my interior design, please sit. I need you all on one eye level so I don't have to move my head," Riley finally spoke, gingerly touching the back of his head where he had been subjected to no less than seven sutures. It seemed that along with Kindred emotions, Rory was harbouring a percentage of their physical strength, also. It probably had literally been only moments to spare before he would have been turned. Lucky didn't even begin to cut it.

( Blaise was sitting in one of the chairs on the opposite side of Riley's desk facing him. On either side of him sat Juliette and Buffy, all three of them managing to watch Riley with the same curious, yet dumbfounded, look on their faces... )


Word Count | 4,063

9.10. I can't fight this feeling any longer
And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow
What started out as friendship has grown stronger
I only wish I had the strength to let it show
Can’t Fight This Feeling - REO Speedwagon

Co-written with gr8muppetyodin
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It had been a long day, and luckily one Blaise and Juliette had managed to stay stuck in the military facility tying up loose ends over the attack on Rory Buchanan. The Scot's condition was still up in the air, although thankfully there had been no complications. It was such a relief to finally get back to his home, that Blaise had excused himself from their pile of houseguests and went to his quarters. He had one of his 'assistants' brought to him for sustenance to regain a little of his strength that was waning as the day came to a close. He took a long shower, thankful to be out of the suit he had been stuck in all day, and was now dressed in a pair of black silk pyjama pants and a white t-shirt that hugged his body. He was ready for rest, and had been anticipating it for most of the day, but first he had to relax and switch off. All he yearned for right then was a little bit of peace.

( He nursed a wine glass in his hand containing a fresh source of blood, though of course it was easy to be mistake as red wine... )


Word Count | 5,648

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Riley was trying desperately not to vomit as he rode the elevator up to the fourteenth floor of the military headquarters. The thing was, despite dragging Buffy along there with him knowing she needed to be there, he couldn't actually reveal anything to her. Not yet. Blaise needed to be the first to know so he could advise on the next move. Of course, Buffy was less than impressed about being kept in the dark as they had made their way through the headquarters that were so technologically advanced, it made The Initiative look like something from the Dark Ages. No bullshit voice recognition for security, it was all retinal recognition and fingerprint code pads. A lot of the staff were getting around in civilian clothing, too. Camos were really only isolated to those out in the field. Riley tended to chop and change between both depending on what he was working on. Buffy had been getting more and more pissed off by the second, demanding to know if this was some sort of joke or trick or set up, but Riley just kept telling her to wait, which probably just pissed her off more.

He had been filled in completely by Graham and the team, and although he was left reeling, he had to try and keep it together to somehow figure out what should be done here. It wasn't just a random attack. It was an attack on a Hunter, and an international one at that. It could just be a mere case of someone getting wind that Rory had been getting close to Blaise and Juliette, but who really knew? The other theory was that he was attacked in an attempt to lure Buffy in. Either way, Riley was not a happy camper.

( Buffy was next to him in the elevator with her arms firmly crossed and a deep frown on her face... )


Word Count | 7,443

8.5. "You think you know a story, but you only know how it ends. To get to the heart of the story, you have to go back to the beginning."
The Tudors

Co-written with gr8muppetyodin
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Blaise had sent a message to Juliette from the limo, telling her to vacate their hotel room and make herself scarce. The tone of his message really had left no room for argument, and she knew better than to respond with questions. With revealing himself to Buffy came an anger he had stewed on in the short trip from the restaurant back to the ornate and expensive hotel with direct views of Edinburgh Castle. Blaise and Juliette shared one of the most expensive suites on the highest floor and the large bay windows looked directly out onto the beautifully lit castle. No words had passed between he and Buffy on the trip home, nor did they pass on the elevator trip up to the floor. It wouldn't, either. Blaise suddenly had two bodyguards sticking to his side like glue. They had been in the limo when they were collected from the restaurant and remained with them until they reached the suite where Blaise finally dismissed them in French and closed the door in their faces. Juliette's doing, without a doubt. She had assumed Blaise's message meant he could be in some sort of danger, and Blaise hadn't made a fuss about the mens' presence.

( He had now relieved himself of his suit jacket, waist coat and tie, and was standing by the large windows looking out at the castle as he slipped the gold cufflinks from his shirt sleeves and placed them on the table by the television... )


Word Count | 6,370

When I get out, I get out, when I get outside the house,
Out the house, not to work,
I'll be looking for a guy, that I saw, that i saw,
In the middle of the night, yes the night,
But for some silly reason he got away
- Mr Mysterious by Vanessa Amorosi

Co-written with gr8muppetyodin, histhornedrose & naysowee
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Buffy's skin had broken out with perspiration, her heartbeat thumping in her chest, and her breath starting to come out in quickened puffs of air. The music pounded around them, loud and hard so that she and Rory could feel it deep within their bones. She grinned up at him as they continued to dance, bodies pressed up against each other as they moved to the beat. She wasn't even sure why she hadn't just given in to a night out before. Buffy had needed to let loose for a while, and this was definitely her kind of medicine. Back in Sunnydale she'd had the Bronze, but now the Bronze was non-existent just like her town, and here in Edinburgh she hadn't really let herself get attached to anywhere or anything.

( Only Braveheart here had some awesome moves, and he really was something nice to look at... )


Word Count | 7,607