[Grace Gatsby]

While the gift had been successful in lightening the mood, the effect was short-lived. Stolen away by a familiar car drawing into the driveway.

Dane’s expression dulled into something that was decidedly guarded despite how he tried to cover it up by wrinkling his nose and claiming boredom. He moved to leave. She didn’t question it. She didn’t have to.

Grace was not so quick to jump down after him, however. Not because she wanted Dane to get caught or because she particularly wanted to see his father, but because again she was struck by that old feeling. Something that had followed her throughout her whole life yet remained a mystery.

It was there when Gem floated a curling tong or a set of car keys towards her, or hung different outfits in the air to examine before a night out. It was there when Dino told her what her new puppy was feeling and how she could make her feel more at home, and when Dane summoned Snowcone to bowl them over as they splashed about in the shallows of the sea. All the times they wrestled, whether it be in the mud of the Wayland’s backyard or the pool of the Gatsby’s, for training or for fun, she’d always felt she was missing something. Something big. Something obvious.

There’d been a time when she’d thought it was a tattoo. Sprawled in Gem’s bedroom, the four of them hiding from the summer heat, she’d eyed her sister’s waiting panther. Dino’s young buck, growing antlers. Dane’s steadily elongating wolf. And there Grace was. Bare. Everyone kept saying she didn’t need one. Kept saying it was unnecessary; she wasn’t missing out. She didn’t need to be kept in line.

She remembered sneaking out of the room later that night, finding Antonio alone after a meeting with her father, and she’d asked him for one. Simple as that. He’d taken a long drag of his cigarette in the dark, eyes narrowed at her thoughtfully, and agreed.

Her dad spotted it immediately at breakfast the next morning. He saw but did not speak a word on it. There was no celebratory response from Gem nor the boys, and she still wasn’t entirely sure if they knew it was her own choice. It hadn’t been a choice for them, after all.

The biggest reaction had been from her mom. It was the only time the woman (usually so… away with the fairies, despite her witticisms) had ever shown anger. A hurricane bursting into her room, perfect acrylic nails digging into her arms as she shook her, blue eyes blazing like the hottest of fires. “You little fool, I thought you understood! You were kept clean for a reason!”

The next time she saw her, her mom was perfectly normal. Smiling blithely, offering a mimosa and chatting about nail polish like nothing had happened. Grace never mentioned it to anyone, not even Gemma. She wasn’t sure anyone would believe her.

The shrike on her collarbone did not grow. Grace was a good hunter. She had outbursts when things didn’t go her way, but ultimately she played by the rules and any work assigned to her got done.

Having a tattoo did not make that strange feeling go away.

She sighed through her nose.

It was a shame to leave the treehouse so soon after finally having conquered it, yet it seemed she had little choice. After one last look around and allowing herself to feel just a bit melancholic about it all, she pressed the tips of her fingers to her mouth before pressing them to the wood.

The gate unlatched. Dane’s name, clear and simple but with so much unspoken weight, carried across the open air. Grace dropped down in time to see his shoulders stiffen and turn to face Antonio, then speak to him with the same casual tone he used when he claimed he was bored. Snowcone had already been vanished away.

Antonio’s stare shifted to Grace, and he greeted her levelly.

It was fine when she was talking to him with her Dad – or, hell, even when she was talking to him alone. They agreed on a lot of things, in regards to hunting at least, and hunting was all they ever talked about. But whenever Dane was there she felt weird. Tense. Perhaps a little guilty, like she was betraying him by even marginally appearing to tolerate his father.

Seeing them in the same space forced her to remember what Antonio did to him.

Having scooped up her heels from where she’d left them at the base of the tree, Grace sauntered over, expression smooth and head held high. She couldn’t let any of it bother her. Showing concern for Dane or lashing out at Antonio would help neither the tautness in the air nor her own relationships with either of them. This was now a workplace conversation. She was Angel-Face. Or rather, Shrike, as was the more ‘professional’ of her two codenames.

“Mr. Wayland,” she returned his greeting. “Dane’s coming on a hunt. I need his summons to sniff out an invisible target.” Their parents could never argue with that – well, her parents could never argue with that. Even if the target had been fabricated to give her and Dane an excuse to leave, they would back her up if Antonio mentioned it to them. Family above all.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? That she still felt she could use (or had to use) her father as a shield. Because without him, it was hard to describe what she and Antonio were to each other. Hard to know who was the authority.

He was second in command of the Guild, but she was the Guildmaster’s daughter and the title passed through the family. Antonio never directly gave her assignments or verbally reminded her of his position, but his tattoo was just below her collarbone and that should mean she was under his thumb. It had never bothered her, growing up. But now, older, and with thoughts of inheriting the Guild for herself, she couldn’t help but think… would he allow her to?

And when she had those thoughts, she inevitably end up wondering what would happen if she put him in the void. Would he still feel the ink under each Guild Member’s skin? Would he be able to contort it? Hurt them as easily as he did when standing in the real world?

I’m going to run the Guild someday, she thought, holding his gaze. Not Gemma. Not you. Me.

She lightly bumped her side against Dane’s, knowing better than to try grabbing his arm while he was so on edge. “Let’s go.” She walked past Antonio to the gate and held it open, looking back at Dane expectantly.



OOC: Sorry for the backstory dump lmao, decided to change how Grace got her tattoo

[Dane Wayland]

Grace walked toward them, volleying Antonio's greeting in the same, level tone with which he'd acknowledged her. Dane didn't look in her direction but simply watched his father watch her. He was aware of the tension. Of the measured (yet somehow easy) inflection — or was it lack of inflection? — in her voice. The professionalism and unmistakable heiress of it. It was almost as if she were trying to imitate him. Asserting herself. Reminding the Wayland, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn't the little girl he once "shooed" from the very same yard when it was time for her and Gemma to go home.

She summoned him away. Matter-of-factly and in a way that allowed no room for argument. She bumped lightly against him and Dane was successful in keeping any emotion from his own face. He kept his gaze fixed on his father, wondered what thoughts played behind his cool, unreadable eyes, and waited hungrily for a reaction. For a flicker. For anything. Something that Grace might earn from him where Dane never could (despite his efforts). He waited for it, knowing he would hate his father for it. Would hate Grace for it, too. Would hate himself for hating it.

But unlike him, Grace wasn't hanging off the moment, hoping for a rise. She wasn't asking permission. She didn't wait for Antonio to lift a brow or concede. She simply moved past him and to the backyard gate, beckoning for Dane to follow. He watched his father for only a brief moment longer. Until Antonio sifted his gaze to him. The bitterness within him — his cowed anger, made forcibly small and lukewarm — threatened to shudder. To shy. But a small thread of satisfaction lassoed around it and kept it secure. Dane arched a brow and thinned his lips. He felt the urge to move — to slip past his father wordlessly as if escaping while he had the chance — but he held steadfast for only a single second and, miraculously, Antonio moved instead. His eye skipped from him and he stepped past him toward the house.

As soon as he was passed him, Dane's gaze lifted to Grace and he widened his eyes; lips parting around a small, excited 'O'. As if her "victory" was in some part his.

Then there was the sound of the patio door sliding open.

"Dane! Don't you dare go running off without cleaning up this mess! You said!"

He winced, shoulders leaping up his neck as his face twisted. It was a response very unlike the one his father had prompted and he blinked at Grace with a pretended dread that was much lighter than before. 'Oh, she caught me', he mouthed, before holding up his hands. "Let me just say bye to Mom. Two seconds."

He turned and half-jogged back through the yard and up the patio steps. He passed his father, who was holding a hand out to Mona, palm down (motioning wordlessly to "let them go"), and scooted sideways past his mother in the crowded doorway with his arms raised. In a quick sweep, he plucked all the torn pieces of paper from the floor, tossed them in the trash, and then skittered to a stop as his eye caught on the finished macaroons, filled now and sitting on a plate (no doubt awaiting his father's arrival, he acknowledged with annoyance). Moving fast, he opened a cabinet and took out a small Tupperware container, filled it with a few of the treats — making certain to grab a pink one — and then snapped closed the lid and fled back to the patio door. He scooted past his mother again, pausing only to give her a hasty kiss on the cheek, then moved toward the steps.

Mona made a sharp noise of protest in her throat. "Nuh uh, no sir," she chirped in a crack-whip chide. "I don't know what the hell that was but it's not how you say goodbye to your m—" Dane pivoted on his heel with a pretended roll of his eyes and fell into her, arms circling over her own and around her back. He mumbled an apology as he bent to tuck his chin over her shoulder and she chortled approvingly as she squeezed her to him. "Oh, my baby, baby, baby bear," she said emphatically, forcing them into a side-to-side sway and tightening her hold around him with each word. "I love you so, so much and I expect more visits before the holidays." Dane only blinked, head unmoving but gaze sifting in his father's general direction while he whispered his own 'I love you's and a few promises he wasn't sure he'd keep.

"Alright, off with you," she pulled back to pepper the side of his face with kisses and gave his back a fierce pat before letting him slip away and hop down the patio steps. Her voice followed him as he moved through the yard. "Try not to grate on Gracie's nerves too bad! I know you can't help yourself and all, but I'll find it very difficult to not be sympathetic and forgiving if she knifes ya'!"

"Don't worry Mama," Dane tossed a cheeky look over his shoulder, hearing himself how the presence of his father couldn't completely dispel the thinness of his voice. "I don't think she'll aim for anything too vital." He winked, wry smile curling deeper, but it didn't feel easy. It felt watched.

"I wouldn't count on it, baby. Her definition of vital is probably very different than yours. Be safe! You too, Grace, honey! I love you!"

As he passed through the backyard gate, behind him he heard the low, indiscernible tones of Antonio's voice, followed by his mother's raucous, barking laugh. He gave a suffering roll of his eyes. When had his father ever been funny? Dane had never heard the man tell a joke. Had never heard him even sound amused.

When they were children, he and Dino had often exchanged bewildered glances when they heard their mother laugh elsewhere in the house; unable to reconcile the idea that it was their father who made her do so but knowing it was only the four of them home. Once or twice they'd tiptoed or army-crawled from their rooms and down the upstairs hall to peek through the banisters at the living room below; to see if someone else had shown up for company or if their mother was on the phone (because they were the only explanations that made any sense).

But it had almost always been just the two of them, sitting or standing close.

They'd never been able to hide from their father, no matter how quiet they attempted to be. Without fail, his head would always lift. And whatever semblance of emotion he reserved for their mother, it would wipe away entirely when he raised his eyes to their hiding place and sent them scrambling back with just a look. Dino swore that he'd seen an "honest to God" smile once. His eyes had been wide, voice shaky with disbelief, when he whispered it in the safety of the older boy's bedroom after a hasty retreat. But Dane had only punched him and called him a liar.

Whoever Antonio was, or pretended to be, with their mother... his sons had never been privy to it. Not even a watered-down or begrudging version of it. Even now, Dane almost couldn't wrap his head around it.

He pulled the backyard gate shut and stepped beside Grace once more, quirking a brow expectantly as he started down the sidewalk. There was a long beat of silence then finally his gaze pulled to her and he couldn't help the tug at his lips. "So, uh..." his mouth inched wider and more crooked. "Did you just flex on my dad?" He popped open the lid of the Tupperware container to prompt an offer of macaroons. "We love to see a girlboss win. Maybe I'll give the Guild... three years instead of two." He pulled a cookie out for himself and turned it in his fingers. "Thanks, by the way," he added, a touch more sincere. "He was probably gonna have me do his laundry. Or clean Guild toilets. But uh... what is the actual plan?"

- - - - - - - - - -

OOC: Had to get some Mona-love in while I still had the chance. ;v; Anyway, I realize there may not be a whole lot to work with here, so if you need more, just lemme know. I wasn't sure if Grace drove there? Or if the Waylands and Gatsbys live in relative walking distance of one another?

[Grace Gatsby]

For a moment Grace thought Antonio might refuse. As confident as she was that she’d manage to get Dane out in one way or another, that irritating stubbornness of his and ability to cause problems had come from somewhere, albeit Antonio’s version ran colder and came in far neater wrapping. However, the patriarch stepped aside to allow Dane past him, and Grace had to restrain herself from mirroring Dane’s expression and indulging in a giddy lift of her own brow in case Antonio saw and changed his mind.

Her lips did twitch, though.

The triumph warming her chest remained even as Dane was stopped from departing by Mona, his mom’s voice ringing clear across the yard as she called him back to do his chores. Grace lifted her hand to her mouth with a faux gasp, tutting and shaking her head at him afterwards with widened eyes while he excused himself. There was nothing to worry about; Mona was not an obstacle and wouldn’t keep him there. Not for long anyway, not when the two of them were clearly angling to leave.

In the meantime Grace leant up against the fence and pulled her phone from the void, ignoring whatever faces and words were exchanged between Mona and Antonio in favour of checking her socials. Only when Dane reemerged from the house did Grace lift her gaze from the screen, vanishing the device again while Dane and his mom hugged goodbye.

Antonio, of course, did not partake.

A snicker was drawn from her by the words exchanged between Dane and Mona as they parted, the calls between them loud enough to reach Grace’s ears. “Bye, Mona! Love you!” she yelled back with a cheerful wave, sobering abruptly when she remembered she was supposed to be Shrike when Antonio was around. Ugh. Mona’s energy was too damn contagious.

He didn’t seem to be paying much attention to her though, saying something too low for her to catch that made Mona bark with laughter. Huh. Their relationship always weirded her out. But it did prove that truly no one was immune to Mona’s vibes and hopefully gave Grace a free pass to act less than professional. Surely Antonio would be more irked if she ignored his wife and didn’t return her enthusiasm.

With the gate finally shut behind them, Dane and Grace headed out to the car she was using – the Porsche being one of many her family owned. She smirked as Dane broke the momentary silence between them (he just couldn’t help himself, could he?) and she reached into the Tupperware box he’d acquired to fish out a macaroon for herself, only to shoot him a more annoyed look as he once again doubted her ability to lead the Guild.

Still, he thanked her, so she decided she wouldn’t be too hard on him for his insolence. She shoved the whole macaroon in her mouth and had eaten it by the time he finished asking what they were doing.

“Well well, baby bear, since when did you care for plans?” She kissed her teeth then scrunched her nose. “You’ve been drinking. Yeah, yeah – I know you’re not drunk by anyone’s standards, but you know how I prefer my partners.” Sharp, sober, and ready for the hunt. Although he’d never done anything terribly chaotic (not on purpose at least) to directly endanger her life, Dane was undoubtedly a hazard. He made messy decisions, which in turn made her head messy – her focus split – while she balanced keeping an eye on him with making sure they got the job done.

It hadn’t always been that way. Sure, she’d always had her partner’s back – always tried to keep whoever accompanied her alive. But since Dino… There was an extra stitch of worry that influenced her choices. An urgent whisper that none of them were invincible despite how much they had survived in the past. It was easier for Dane (and Gemma, for that matter) to be a distraction. To make her stumble because she was looking back to check their footing.

She unlocked her car just before they reached it and promptly situated herself behind the wheel, buckling herself in with the expectation that Dane would join her in the passenger seat.

“Unfortunately, I did say to your dad that that’s what we’re doing. So someone should die in the next twenty-four hours if we really want to convince him I was telling the truth.” Though, as much as she made it sound like a chore for him, maybe Dane would actually appreciate some hunting. He could blow off steam from being face-to-face with dear old dad.

With her keys now in the ignition and her other hand on the wheel, she angled herself in her seat to regard Dane with a quirked brow. “But then again, Gifted can be slippery sometimes, and it wouldn’t be the first trip where you’d let someone get away. We could have ‘a bucking good time’ at a nearby saloon you might know of instead.” A place they had been to many times – even a few birthdays. She smiled slow. “Trick some naïve passers-through into believing that we’re really bad at it? Make some bets? You know the drill.”

The mechanical bull would probably mess up her hair more than she cared for, but it would hopefully be fun for the both of them and, more than that, she could consider it training. Practice for their reflexes, their balance, their grip, that could come in handy whenever they had to hunt Gifted who were little more than lumbering beasts.


Dane Wayland
OOC: feel free to suggest something other than hunting/the bar if you don't think Dane would go for it or if you had something else in mind c:

[Dane Wayland]

Dane only lifted his chin at her annoyed stare, more than delighted to be the object of her ire. In any case, glares were tame. If she thought someone should die within the next twenty-four hours, he was going to try his damnedest to come close (to taking the fall himself and being murdered by her purely out of frustration) a time or two. It was just expected of him at this point.

As they both settled in her car and Grace turned his way to offer an enticing alternative to hunting, Dane let his lip tug at one corner into a pleased smirk. When she alluded to a "certain saloon", he shook his head and spoke around the second macaroon he stuffed in his mouth. "Mm, nope. I'm barred from that one." He glanced at her and lifted his brow, grinning proudly as crumbs fell from the corners of his mouth and into his lap. Quite intentionally, he brushed them carelessly into her floorboard. "If you don't think they'll remember me, you're absolutely wrong."

One of these days, he was going to have to sneak in and steal the picture of him and his brother pinned to the wall behind the bar (among all the other compatriots forever denied entry). If it was as he remembered it to be, Dino had been sporting a massive shiner, his chin slicked with the blood from his busted mouth, and Dane had been too drunk to open both his eyes (though he'd still managed a wide, delighted beam).

Dane chortled, immediately fiddling with the buttons and knobs of Grace's console — not truly wanting to change anything, simply wanting to annoy her by being too-busy, too-comfortable, too-presumptious and all too quickly. "Guess we'll have to go to the one across town. The good one. Where the girls all have the same uniform — bandanas for shirts, teeny-tiny shorts, and cowboy boots up to the knee." With the fan turned to full blast and every fancy button — seat warmers, hazard lights, defrost, traction control, and more — engaged, he set about rolling down both his window and the sunroof.

"Yeehaw! Let's go!"

---

Grace Gatsby
As discussed, just bringing this one to a quick (messy YOLO) close~ Thread end!