It'd been a couple of weeks since Deanna's death. That Quinn wasn't coping well would be an understatement. The first week he spent sleeping beside the grave that he and Maxim had dug. Between the two of them it hadn't taken long, but it still took its toll. The emotional damage had been worse than any cut, bite, or chunk that had been removed. Quinn didn't know how to proceed from this point. Deanna had been his mate. She'd told him that it'd be for life, but she never said who's life. He didn't think it was her's because he could still feel her. She was still with him.

Before they'd taken De's body to be buried, Quinn had taken a lock, well truth be told it was a bit more than a just a lock. He'd (much to his brother's surprise) braided Deanna's hair into twin braids, then he cut one of them, before the braid could come undone, he dipped the cut end into a pool of her now drying blood. It wasn't completely dry yet but still wet enough to clot and hold the hair together. It would hold together long enough for him to get it capped and the chain added for what he'd wanted.

Quinn wasn't able to tear himself away from the grave until Maxim came and offered him an option. Come with him and Isabella back to the new home of the Redmonts, or he'd make him come with him. When Quinn came to, he was in an old but clean bed. His eyes kinda foggy, but after rubbing them a bit, they cleared up and he saw Maxim sitting in a chair across the room from him. "Morning." was all he said. Quinn however didn't feel like talking just yet. He looked around again and realized that he'd never been here before.

Finally he asked, "Where am I?" Standing he walked over to the small window in the room and saw the snow falling outside. Arthuran then. There was now an ocean separating him from his mate. His anger rising he turned back to his brother. "You took me away from Deanna." he said his voice calm, but his eyes burning holes into Maxim's face. "How long have I been here?"

The Kinslayer was still being calm, "Four days."

Why wasn't the bastard talking more? What the hell wasn't he telling him? Storming over to his brother, Quinn lifted his leg to kick the chair out from under him. His foot made contact and the chair smashed into the wall. Maxim was standing in front of him now, the calmness that he'd seen before, was (now that he was up close) an obvious mask. Maxim was fighting to keep from punching him out again. "Why did you bring me here? We were fine where we were. Why did you have to mess it up? Now I have to get a ship and get back to her." He fumed.

That was when Maxim punched him again. This time Quinn was ready for it though, and moved with the blow, taking less damage than he would have had it been a surprise like the last time. Coming back up, he grabbed Maxim by the front of his shirt and slammed him back against the same wall he'd crashed the chair into. "YOU MADE ME LEAVE HER! WHAT IF SHE COMES BACK AND I'M NOT THERE!? DID YOU EVER THINK OF THAT?! WHAT THEN? OR DOES THE GREAT MAXIM REDMONT NOT CARE IF THE WOMAN HE LOVES COMES BACK AND IS ALONE??" He'd pushed too far. He knew that as soon as he'd said it. And he didn't care. Maxim had taken him away from De and all that mattered right now was getting back to her. He wouldn't leave her alone.

Quinn let go of his brother and turned back to his bed. Fists clenched tightly, he stared at the bed he'd been in for four days. "She's gone." he whispered, too low for anyone but Maxim to hear. "And it's not fair." a tear rolled down his cheek. There were so many things that weren't fair; that he didn't get to spend more time with is mate, that he didn't get to tell her he loved her one last time, and that he didn't get to take his revenge on her killer. He'd failed Deanna in just about every way possible. All the anger that had been in him a second before just drained from his body and he fell to his knees. "Maxim, I failed her then, I can't fail her again."

The lycanthrope turned to his vampire brother, "I'm sorry." Sorry for letting her down. Sorry for letting himself fall so deep into despair. Sorry for taking everything out on his brother when he didn't deserve it. It'd been weeks and he'd been lying to himself the whole time. He told himself the surely Elysia wasn't going to let his love stay dead, not after everything she'd done to the Death Goddess. Of course she was going to keep Deanna with her. Why wouldn't she? He'd even thought about going to her temple and begging her for the return of his mate, however he'd never been one to actually believe in the Gods, and he was sure that she wouldn't do anything for him. Why reward the faithless? It'd been almost three weeks now with him staying here with the Redmonts since she died.

Standing he weakly spoke again, "I have to go to the tavern." at the concerned look from his brother he shook his head, "You know better. It's not like I can get drunk and forget all this happened. The weregene wouldn't allow that. No, I need to go through her things at the tavern. I need to make sure no one else gets them." He made his way past Maxim, "Can I get a ride on one of your ships? I'll be back..." after a pause he added, "assuming you want me back." If Maxim replied he wasn't really listening. He nodded and made his way out of the room and through the mansion. He didn't know where he was going and it took him a while before he was able to find his way out of the building and to the docks. It seemed most of the people there knew he was Maxim's brother, had he already come and told them to let him out or did they just recognize him as a Redmont? Either way he was able to get on a ship heading back to Grand City.

He didn't really remember any of the trip across the ocean, apparently there had been rough waters, but he didn't notice. Disembarking from the ship at the Grand City docks, he looked at what was left of the city before him. It was nothing like what it had once been. There was less noise for one. Less living people. Which almost worked out since there were less buildings, and the roads where far more broken up than before. The outline of the pub could be seen in the distance. He knew that it'd still be standing. It was a tough old building, strong enough (with a little help from Victor and Wish) to still be standing through all that'd happened.

As Quinn opened the door to enter the water damaged building, the scent of mold and decaying food hit him and with his were-senses intensified them ten-fold. It was almost enough to make him lose his lunch right there, but as he stood there he slowly got used to the smell. He knew that he had to do this and there was no getting around it. Pushing the door closed behind him, the last living Redmont shut himself into the watery building. He hadn't spent nearly as much time here are Deanna had, but this was where she had devoted a lot of her time the last few months. It was important to her, so he made sure to treat the remains of the bar with as much respect as he'd given her body.

It was entirely possible that in his state of emotional turmoil, Quinn had suddenly made the mistake of thinking he could read the actions and words of the former slayer -- an act that even those who had known him for years still weren't able to do with much success. The punch that he had thrown was telegraphed in its entirety, a move that spoke volumes as to how disinterested Maxim could become with conflict that was entirely pointless... as was the case here.

Nevertheless, Maxim Redmont had finally grown tired of the endless tantrum -- and before Quinn could leave, the door slammed shut and he blocked his half-brother's path.

"I've ignored the fact that you had the nerve to accuse me of destroying the Redmont name. I turned away and didn't interfere with your relationship specifically because I wanted both of you to be happy -- but you've still managed to cross the line in a fashion that even Alastair Bluefield himself would find pompous and outright insolent," the Redmont murmured, in that same calm voice that still somehow radiated the dreadful nature of his wrath -- if Quinn had wanted to hit a nerve, he had done so. If he hadn't wanted to, then he was about to experience a reason to never deliberately push his half-brother that far again. Before Quinn could speak, or even move, Maxim had changed positions -- he was now out of reach, the dim light of the fading sun (his comment of the time of day having been obvious sarcasm) barely filtering in enough to cause his new charcoal gray armor to gleam, its crimson trim seeming far more befitting than his attire while serving as Jade City's temporary commander. That deadly glaive was also in his hands, which put Quinn well within the vampire's reach while keeping Maxim out of the werewolf's own.

"This tantrum ends here and now, Quinn. Should you ever question what I felt for her again, you'll learn why there were so many rumors that I personally destroyed each and every Redmont. She was my closest friend for nearly a decade -- you knew her for what, a few months? Yet I've instead chosen to respect your feelings, however disgraceful to her memory they may be -- and you will respect mine in turn." His words were cold and harsh, nothing but the very utilitarian truth that his brother apparently hadn't yet realized. "She was a warrior, Quinn. She wasn't some dainty princess for you to shield and protect, and if you think that she was, it shows how little you truly knew of her. For the span of time that I've known you, you've professed to be a Redmont -- and Redmonts stand alongside their allies and friends, not in front of them. She lived as a warrior, and died as a hero -- how long is it going to take you to realize that?" He lowered his head, and then shook it in disappointment entirely. "There are always risks, and there are always those who are better. Every single time we draw a weapon, we do so knowing it might be the last time, and Deanna herself knew this. She wasn't naive enough to blind herself to those risks over emotion, and if you care for her as much as you say, then remember that she died with a sword in her hand, on her feet -- not on her knees as a pacifist, like you seem to think she should've been."

He turned away then, and instead faced the window, with a single glance given as a warning that he would brook no further attacks from the therianthrope. For another minute, he was silent, and he finally opened the door so that Quinn could leave... just as he began to speak one last time.

"You aren't the only one who's ever lost somebody, Quinn. Don't be so immature or arrogant to think that your pain is all that matters, and nobody else could possibly understand what you're feeling. Isabella and I have both said good-bye to people that we've loved, ones who have changed our lives -- in less than six months, I laid Daphne to rest, and then lost Deanna as well. My wife, the girl I'd loved all of my life, and my closest friend who had stood by me through the worst. You're a fool if you think nobody else knows how this feels," Maxim finally snapped as a finishing remark, before he simply exited the small cabin -- the particular area was only at the base of the Arthuran mountains, not the hidden fortress where Maxim had been residing since his return.

And with that, Maxim was simply gone -- for the moment, Quinn had managed to burn up any currency he had with the former Lord Redmont.

'He has is own agenda, Isabella.' The thought slithered into her mind, like a venomous snake poisoning her thoughts. 'You believe he would never turn against his sister, that the bond of twin souls is too strong, but are you so sure, Guardian?'

Isabella was alone, or so it would appear to any outsiders of the Redmont family. Her hand ran across the just dried silver lettering, Vengeance. She had waited to name the vessel until the moment had come to her, a finger tapped at her bottom lip as she fell into deep thought. Appropriate.

'Are you willing to risk the lives of those few left, to let your...Guard down, per say. This is not the woman I helped raise, the fearless warrior, the tireless nights I trained you, shaped you, molded you! Only to have you blinded so easily by the charade set forth in front of you. This is all in the plan, Isabella, lest you forget the prophecies.'

"I cannot deny loyalty to my brother, to my King. You are asking me to question his commitment to this family and I will not."

Silence befell the mostly one sided conversation that only took place within the dark depths of Isabella's consciousness. Her chest heaved with a heavy, deep breath, releasing the tension that had overwhelmed her suddenly, but not without good reason. The ship was ready for it's next departure, knowing soon that they would have to return to Grand City to tie up the few loose ends still remaining. This time, Isabella did not plan on leaving the docks.

Suddenly, she shifted her stance, eyes falling in the direction of the distant manor that now served as the main base for the Redmont family, she could feel his disdain rush through her, over taking her emotions. A sudden urge to quiet their younger brother, permanently, was fought back with a great amount of effort. It seemed the fight was on, Isabella knew this moment had been building from both sides. To her, Quinn was nearly a stranger, but he was a Redmont none the less. This was not the first family quarrel, and hopefully would not be the last. Nothing was as impressive as Redmont versus Redmont. Dynasty versus Brood. Lady versus Lord. They lived on it, thrived.

'You must watch the young one, he holds a secret not yet revealed to us, that may change the course of our destiny.'

It was as if she had sensed him coming. A raven that had been perched upon the ship's railing flew off in a hurry, cawing as she rose into the sky above the rocky shoreline. The lycanthrope marched over the hill, finally coming into view of an expecting Isabella. He came straight for the docks, towards her.

"Need a ride, I presume," she gripped onto the ladder made of pale wood and climbed over the railing and onto the deck before looking down again at Quinn, a still stern look over her ashen features. She would accompany him, as was planned for her, but she agreed with the King. He needed to learn his place in their ranks, and not just that, he still had much left to learn.

"Hurry up then, some of our crew doesn't like to be caught in the daylight hours, if you understand me." The vampire had not waited for an answer from her half brother, what choice did he have. These were private docks, and unless he had one of those monstrosity airships on its way, then it looked like he was stuck with taking the long way.

This journey was more treacherous than her last journey across the sea to Eiler, the waters were rough, a strong head wind blowing against them nearly the entire way. Isabella had chosen to leave Quinn to himself, alone with his thoughts, as he remained in the sleeping quarters for most of the trip. Isabella knew better than anyone, that sometimes it just takes time to find your place. As the former Lady of the Dynasty, Isabella knew all too well that it took a strong will to stand toe to toe with the Kinslayer, and an even braver heart. Both of which being qualities that could be dangerous to their plans.

'Perhaps, she is right, a closer look is warranted.'

After a full three days travel they arrived at the sunshiny docks of Grand City, already the repairs were underway and they actually had a slip to pull the obsidian Redmont flagship into. Quinn had disembarked immediately, acting possessed as he wormed his way through the crowded harbor entrance towards the Oak Barrel Tavern. Isabella did not rush after him, she made no move at all, not even removing her hand from the helm of her ship.

To the best of Quinn's knowledge, the Oak Barrel Tavern had been a stable part of the Grand City forever. It made sense to him that Deanna would be drawn to the building. It was strong, tough under pressure, and wouldn't go down easy. Just like his mate had been.

The main room had drained of most of the water from the sea, and now stood a wet and smelly memorial to the past managers of the establishment. He mad his way behind the bar and grabbed a couple of bottles of various alcohol. He didn't look at what kind it was, that didn't matter.

Next he made his way down stairs to where he knew Deanna's office had been. Balancing the bottles and opening the door, Quinn stood just outside the door way, almost afraid of going in. But in he went. The Were dropped the liqueur bottles onto the desk and went to the fallen chair behind it. He straightened it up and sat down, pulling himself closer to the table.

First things first, he popped the top off the closest bottle to him, and downed half of what tasted like vodka. Quinn had told Maxim that the virus inside him prevented him from getting drunk. Three bottles later, Quinn had proved he was right, "Damn!" he muttered, wiping a bit of spilled drink off his face.

There had been a part of him (a rather large part) that had hoped he'd been talking out his ass. Obviously not. Looking around the room, he noticed that it was rather sparse. But that was expected. Deanna hadn't been one for material possessions.

Bored, he decided to go through the desk drawers, hoping that there would be something of her there. The only thing he had of De's was the necklace he was currently wearing. It'd been part of her hair, but he'd twisted it and had it turned from just a lock of hair into a memory that he'd wear until he died. That was all he had now. His memories and her hair.

The Lycan had pissed his brother off and actively shut out the last words the vampire lord had said. He didn't have the desire to focus on them. Just then, as he opened the bottom drawer, all thoughts of Maxim left his head completely. There was a box there, and it wasn't new. It was something that had seen many years of moving and travel. A lock box that he'd not seen before. Was it De's? Or was it something left there by the other managers of the tavern?

Quinn started searching the office, at first he was respectful and looked in the obvious places; under the desk drawers, in a book, under the chair cushion, but as each place turned up no results, he began getting frantic. He needed to find that key. For all he knew there was just receipts inside from the last year of business from the Oak Barrel, but he needed to know for sure.

Finally, when he was about to start prying boards off the walls, he looked over to a shelf that he'd already searched. On it sat a bottle of whiskey that he'd picked up once and looked under, but the bottle itself he'd not paid any attention to. Now something was catching his eye inside it. He rushed to it and looked deep into the dark liquid. Sure enough there was a key inside it.

Now he had a choice, he'd already drank half the liqueur in the tavern, but he could finish off this bottle, or just pour it out and get the key that way. Deanna's voice echoed inside his head, "If you're going to touch my whiskey Quinn, you had best finish it to the last drop."
So, with a sad smile on his face, Quinn took the top off yet another bottle and quickly downed the contents.

He drank it so fast in fact that he almost swallowed the key. That would have made things a bit more awkward. He'd have to wait a bit longer to get into that box for sure. Using his pointer finger and thumb, he gently took the key from his mouth and just looked at it for a moment. The ground must have started shaking again because suddenly the key was moving in his grip. It took him a minute to realize that the ground wasn't shaking, it was his hand. He was nervous.

Plopping back down into the chair the wolf dried the key off and set it on the desk next to the box. The next question he had was, did he really have a right to look inside? Was it really his place to do so? If this was Tavern related he wouldn't feel horrible, just kind of silly for making such a big deal over it. However, if this was something Deanna had left, and it had been private enough not to tell him about it, should he open it?

Taking the key in hand again, Quinn unlocked the box. Whether it was the Pub's or Deanna's he needed to know. There had been so much left unsaid between the two of them that he needed something to assure him that he really did mean as much to her as she had to him. The top creaked open as he lifted the lid. It wasn't the tavern's. It was her's.

The first thing he noticed was the color red within the box. There was a piece of fabric that had been torn and put inside. One look at it was enough to tell him where it'd come from. Even not growing up with the Redmonts Quinn would be able to recognize a part of Maxim's cloak anywhere. And then dried rose petals. His heart sank. What had he expected? It wasn't like there would be a note left inside for him. There were letters, but they were aged to the point that he was almost afraid to read them. Not to mention he felt he needed to leave her a bit of her privacy.

The werewolf slumped back in his chair and pushed the box away. Something scraped the bottom of it when he did though. It was heavier than the other things he'd seen on top and that piqued his interest once again. Leaning forward he moved the letters to the side and found a dragon broach. It was beautiful and the thought of seeing Deanna wearing it gave him a sad smile.

There was something else rolling around in the bottom of the box as well. Frowning he reached in and picked it up. He almost dropped it though because as soon as he touched the metal object his skin started to burn. Allowing it to fall onto the desk, Quinn watched as it almost rolled off the desktop. It was a silver bullet. It was the bullet that she'd shot him with when he'd followed her to Elved, in pursuit of Verial. She'd kept it. Reaching out he held the bullet tightly in his fist and lowered his head, eyes closed tightly shut.

The conversation he'd had with Maxim came back to him. He hadn't thought of Deanna as someone who needed protection. His brother didn't know everything they'd been through, just as he didn't know everything Maxim and Deanna went through. But he knew that he'd respected Deanna enough as a person and a warrior to allow her to pick her own fights. That was why he'd not said anything when he knew that she'd been with Maxim. He respected and trusted her enough then to know she would have said something to him had she not wanted to be with him any more.

He had been foolish to be acting the way he had been. And between the recent blows to the head and finding this box, he was starting to realize that. One thing Maxim had been right about was that she had known the risks. She always knew them. And so had Quinn. It was beginning to dawn on him that his issue wasn't so much that Deanna had died. She'd gone the way she'd always thought she would, and the way she deserved to go...in battle. His problem was that she had done so alone. He hadn't been there beside her to let her know how much he loved her and respected her. Now that she was gone he could only hope that she had known.

Dropping the bullet back into the box and closing the lid on top of it, Quinn locked it, slipped the key into his pocket and headed up the stairs, box under his arm. He took the steps leading up two at a time, when he got to the front doors of the tavern, he didn't slow down. The water warped doors had been a pain to open before, but now he didn't stop to reach out with his foot and kick the door wide open. He made his way back to the ship his half-sister had captained to Eiler.

As he stepped back on board the ship, Quinn looked his sister in the face, "Thank you for waiting this long for me." He was almost looking like himself again, not that she would know how he normally carried himself. "I just have one thing left to do. If I can leave this with you," he held up the box and let her take it. "I'll be back as soon as possible." Without waiting for her to reply whether she'd wait or not, the Redmont Lycan, turned and was gone again.

Before she died, Deanna had bought a couple plots of land that she'd then been buried in. It wasn't too far from the city, especially for someone with werewolf speed. Quinn took off at a decent pace, following the coastline, he found the site in 30 minutes or so. He enjoyed the sea breeze as he approached the grave. He remembered it very clearly in his head, a simple head stone read "D", it had been what she wanted.

He stopped as he noticed something wrong. The grave had more dirt around it than he remembered there being. He'd slowed to a walk before, but now sensing something amiss, he ran to the resting place of his mate. Only it wasn't her resting place any more. What Quinn saw made his blood run cold and the life that had been brought back to him drained for a moment. Deanna's grave stood empty. Someone had dug it up and her body was gone. Had she come back? It was obvious that there was a third party involved due to the grave being dug up and not just a zombie digging out of the earth.

His mind going a thousand thoughts a minute, Quinn spun in place looking for signs of where she could have gone. That was when he saw the note on the tombstone. He reached out and grabbed it reading it quickly. Then he read it again to make sure he'd read it right the first time.

"Dear Q-ball,

I realize you just lost your beloved bitch, and I wanted to extend my deepest sympathies. However, when I got here you were no where to be found. So like a dog going after a bone, I dug her up to let her know how sorry I was that she was dead, and you wouldn't believe how good she looked for someone half decayed! I couldn't help myself, I had to take her home with me. You know what they say, 'never look them in the eyes cause they'll just steal your heart'. Anyways, Deanna is with me now, and if you want to see her again, feel free to try and find us. You know, this will be almost like old times, the three of us together, you trying to keep me in check and me just trying to get her to spread her legs. Anyways Q, hope to see you soon, but I won't be surprised if I don't. You never were the smart one in that relationship.

Warmest Regards,

Six"

There are times in everyone's life when they think that things couldn't possibly get any worse. And during those times people react in different ways, they either fold and allow things to proceed around them without fighting them. Or they stand up and say "no more". Quinn had been in morning long enough. It'd taken a few hits to the head and one bullet to make him understand his foolishness, but he had finally come to see the light. He'd finally gotten his head out of his ass and had come to say his farewell and apologize to Deanna for the way he'd acted.

With Deanna's death, Quinn had died a bit as well. However over the last few weeks, he'd been getting (slowly) better. And today he'd made a wonderful break through. He'd been closer to being himself than he had in a while. And now with the sun beginning to set, Quinn turned from the grave and headed back to the harbor a different man. His whole life Quinn had been the "laid back, fast to smile, bringer of death to those who defiled the Redmont name". Now he was something else. A part of him that had been healing died completely.

Quinn Redmont: "The Redeemer", "The Redmont Bastard", was at war. It was time to call in some favors, and the Gods have mercy on those who stood in his way.