Standing at the top looking down

There were many things that the Dogfather knew with absolute certainty. He knew that the sun was going to rise the next day, he knew that the fire blazing on the other side of the room was warm, he knew that he wanted to protect his family more then anything, and he knew that if he walked into the room adjacent to his own that he would hear the member of his mob joking and laughing about some outlandish thing that had happened that day.

The Dogfather knew, that this, this bar that was built as a get away hidden inside the mountains bosom, this was home and those who also called this place home, they were his family. Each person who marked their name above a bed held a special place to the man who's power continued to grow.

Stepping out into the adjacent room he peered through the window in the bedrooms down to the bar below watching his members swaying back and forth on the stage, drinking and eating at the bar, and messing about at the freezer.

His gaze turned to the signs hung above each bed and he found himself smiling fondly. It was such a childish way of doing it, but they all seemed to like it. To stake claim to something as theirs, to be a part of something so much larger. No matter how anyone saw them the leader of this rag tag group saw nothing but joy when he looked at those etched upon signs.

Shadow, the puppy who had found his way to the mafia's side when there was no one standing there. Garnen a stranger in all respect for so long but so fast a sword that Ridge had learned to rely on and a friend that the leader trusted. Nano the girl who had stolen Ridge's breath and thoughts from the first moment he had saw her and continued to take up all the spare time his mind gave to wonder. Cinder, the strange girl who was as deadly with her words as she was with her pen. Greenbean who had wondered into their little hide away. Not saying a word but making it his home all the same and others found their way to the bar from time to time.

Ridge sat down on one of the beds. Pressing his fingers into the sheets as he smiled to himself, hearing the hum of the record floating up from downstairs. He was so caught up in his thoughts of fondness and family that he didn't hear the all to familiar clunk of feet up a ladder until the steady fall of boots against boards caught the mafia mans attention.

Looking over at who had joined him he smiled happily. "It seems really lively here today, hm?"

Cinder clambered up the ladder with a clumsy sort of grace. It was difficult, in heels and a long skirt, but she managed okay; she was becoming quite adept at getting up the rungs without falling face-first back down again.  Who needed casual footwear? She was still a professional, if a half undercover one.

As her head poked through the hatch into the room above she found that this would not be the empty room she had anticipated. Her newest boss was standing there, watching the festivities below. She suddenly had the urge to turn back around.

It wasn’t that Ridge was scary (well it was that Ridge was scary, terrifying really, but that was not a fact she was willing to admit out loud) but more so that something, although she could not discern what, was off about him. She trusted her senses to tell her if a person was strange, and the feelings she got around him . . . they were like nothing she’d ever experienced.

His every move was casually direct, like someone who had been around just long enough to somehow have mastered the art of moving with both purpose and nonchalance. Every line of his being rippled with power, and the part of her that she had locked away glowed just slightly as if in silent salute.

It was like, like something about him was not quite human. Something about the man caused the power in others to flare up like beacons; if she could only figure out what, she might have a story worth writing.

She deliberated for a moment on whether she should leave him to his ponderings and head back downstairs; she’d ascended the ladder originally to find a quieter place to write than the bustling bar, but she was sure she could kick somebody out of a booth and do it there instead.

But just as Cinder had come to this decision Ridge turned to address her. She froze in the process of backing up, hastily forcing her thoughtful features into careful, unreadable interest.

She nodded at his note of the festivities. “It’s definitely upbeat tonight. It’s like a nonstop party here, I’ve noticed.”

The fondness didn't leave his face as she made the comment about the bar. Cinder had been an unexpected addition to his family to be sure. Her questions had been well chosen, but in the end it seems she was learning to enjoy herself as much as any other. He was sure a part of this had to do with what she wanted to write in that notebook of hers but he couldn't bring himself to care much.

There was very little that Cinder could write that most wouldn't already be able to figure out. So long as nothing happened that might put his family in danger he would always welcome her with open arms. Even with her carefully settled expression though the Dogfather noticed the bit of uncertainty in bright gold eyes and really who could blame her? This entire situation was a bit unsettling and Cinder hadn't been a part of their family for long.

Still he found he wanted to try and ease her tension a bit and so he turned his back to her, returning his gaze to the bar below. "It really is a nonstop party, but that isn't always a bad thing. In uncertain times we have to take whatever chance we have to enjoy what we have. Wouldn't you agree?"

“I . . . suppose,” she said, uncertainly. She hadn’t been alone with Ridge before, and she wasn’t sure she liked it much. “But then, it’s not like times are usually certain, so when does the party ever stop?”

She knew the answer to that already – it didn’t. So many lives were at stake with such regularity that the celebrations must last for as long as there was no new crisis. “I guess I’m not complaining, it’s nice to see new friends so happy. It does make it a bit difficult to get things done, though.”

Very difficult. Very, sometimes annoyingly, difficult. But that was okay; they deserved their party, and she would not deprive them of it.

With the low-pitched voice of her companion blaring in the back of her head and her wet hair clinging to the back of her head, Varea entered the bar. The place was just short of being loud enough to deafen someone, but her concern was not the strangers' voices she was hearing, but her companion's.

She tapped at the purple stone containing Mortimer that hung from a necklace around her neck in annoyance. Would you stop that? You know how annoying that is. Although there was more than enough shouting around her, she barely heard it over him.

"Why the hell do you think I do it? You need to shut up every once in a while." She hissed under her breath, knowing that no one around her could hear it.

Maybe if you spent more time preparing instead of drinking-

"Says the man who thought it was a brilliant idea to take a smoke break while we were hiding from Kilmarians. I'll do the ritual soon, okay? I need to find a safe place to do it first." And that finally shut him up, for the time being at least. The elf sat down in front of the bar, mentally debating what drinks to order.

Cinder wrote:

“I . . . suppose,” she said, uncertainly. She hadn’t been alone with Ridge before, and she wasn’t sure she liked it much. “But then, it’s not like times are usually certain, so when does the party ever stop?”

She knew the answer to that already – it didn’t. So many lives were at stake with such regularity that the celebrations must last for as long as there was no new crisis. “I guess I’m not complaining, it’s nice to see new friends so happy. It does make it a bit difficult to get things done, though.”

Very difficult. Very, sometimes annoyingly, difficult. But that was okay; they deserved their party, and she would not deprive them of it.

"The world is always uncertain, shifting under your feet trying to trip you up. In the silence you can take a moment to steady yourself." It was a message he believed with all his heart. You were always treading uncertain ground. The world always had a plan to knock you down, so when you were surrounded by those you cared for you needed to enjoy it.

That is why even for someone who preferred the silence to the noise hearing music leak up the ladder, and the laughs of those he had grown close to was the perfect lullaby to go to sleep. It chased away the doubts and eased all his fears. In a world of uncertainty, they were his certainty.

Still he understood Cinder's plight. Running a buisness with a nonstop party wasn't easy, and he was sure writing with laughter and jokes floating around her head wasn't easy. Still he seemed more at ease with it then one would have thought and simply chuckled at her statement. "I can see where that would be a problem. If you would like you can borrow my room. It is quiet in there and often where I get my own work done."

Cinder shrugged. "There are some who would say that partying is the opposite of steadying yourself," she said noncommittally. "It's, if not a necessarily unorthodox method, at least a rather unusual one. But then, none of you are all that usual, so I shouldn't be surprised. As for your offer," here she hesitated, uncertain. 

On the one hand, she really did need somewhere quiet, but on the other, she wouldn’t trust herself not to look around and that was something she really could not do if she wanted to survive more than a day and a half longer.


It took her a moment’s more deliberation before she decided her need to finish this story before a deadline was stronger than her need to satisfy curiosity. “If you’d allow it, I might just take you up on that,” she said, looking relieved. “It’d help a bunch, honestly. With everything happening here, I haven’t had time to write for a week at least.” She laughed, shaking out her fingers. “My hands are twitching already!”