{Margaret}
Margaret's head felt like soone had stuffed it full of cotton, then used it as a drum.
She stretched, various muscles she couldn't na and didn't even know she had protesting in ways that reminded her exactly how athletic last night's party had gotten.
[Well... At least I can walk,] she thought, making her way downstairs. [Though those kitsune certainly tried their best to change that.]
The 'morning' sun was actually setting, painting the Sumrs' kitchen in warm oranges and reds. Kimiko and Isabella were already up, though given the hour that wasn't surprising. The sounds of their usual morning routine - which naturally involved Isabella bent over the kitchen table - echoed through the house.
"Mommy, harder!"
Margaret just rolled her eyes with a little smile.
Then, she went and checked on Hazel, who was thankfully in her own room, drawing. The sight of her daughter playing made Margaret's heart swell, even as her head throbbed.
She started gathering ingredients for breakfast - or dinner, she supposed, given the hour. Eggs, bread, whatever else she could find that wouldn't aggravate her hangover.
The front door opened, and listair's familiar footsteps approached the kitchen. Her husband looked tired from work, but his eyes lit up at the sight of her.
"Welco ho," she smiled.
"Ah, hard day. Good to be back," he noted before walking up and giving her a kiss on the cheek. listair took off his shirt and sat down, quickly noticing the two Sumrs going at it. "Oh."
[Oh, indeed.]
Margaret sat down with him, and then sothing clicked in her wine-soaked brain.
Last night. lisa. The party. The na.
"Oh!" Margaret nearly dropped the eggs. "Dear, lisa thinks she might know who was involved in the arson. A nim called Rax? Do you know..."
The instant change in listair's expression made Margaret trail off.
"What?"
---
{listair}
listair sat at his kitchen table, staring into a cup of tea he couldn't rember Margaret making. The sounds of Isabella and Kimiko's "morning routine" had rcifully moved upstairs, leaving just the quiet tick of the clock and his wife's concerned breathing.
[Nine years,] he thought, his mind spinning. [Nine fucking years.]
"Tell everything," he managed, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "From the beginning."
Margaret settled across from him, her massive tits resting on the table in a way that would normally have instantly distracted him. Not now though. Not with the na 'Rax' echoing in his head like a death knell.
"Well," she started, fidgeting with her own untouched tea, "Kimiko invited to one of her... parties."
Any other ti, listair would have smiled at his wife's delicate phrasing. They both knew exactly what kind of 'parties' his sister-in-law threw. He had nothing against 'em. If anything, he was jealous his work kept him out of them.
"Go on."
"It was at this warehouse," Margaret continued. "Lots of nim and kitsune. And..." she hesitated. "lisa was there."
That got his attention.
"What? Why would she-"
"She was undercover," Margaret explained quickly. "Rember? The whole thing about her visiting your favorite bar? Well, she heard about this party from that.
[Ah, okay, okay,] listair thought with a mix of pride and worry. [That's our girl, I guess.]
"Margaret," listair interrupted gently. "The na. Rax. How did that co up?"
His wife's expression sobered.
"Right. Sorry. Let get to the point. So, at the party, lisa overheard so nim girl – Vira, I think? – talking about him. Said he was behind the arsons."
[No,] listair thought desperately. [There has to be a mistake.]
There isn't a whole lot Margaret could have said that would have absolutely torn listair's heart apart the sa way this was.
Rax had been listair's closest friend throughout his entire nine-year stay here in Syux. They'd worked together almost every day, they'd laughed over drinks, talked about life, and shared each other's burdens.
To hear he'd done this...
[He wouldn't,] listair's mind insisted. [He couldn't.]
"Maybe..." he started, aware of how desperate he sounded, "maybe he didn't know we were living there?"
Margaret reached across the table, taking his hand. Her purple fingers intertwined with his, warm and familiar.
"l," she said softly, using the nickna she rarely brought out these days. "The whole nim community knows we live with Javir, right? It isn't like that information has been kept under wraps. I an, rember the Shadow Mage attack?" Margaret said. Though, it was clear by her face she didn't like what she was saying. "Those Shadow Mages knew sohow that we'd be there."
[She's right,] he thought. [Of course she's right.]
But still...
"Maybe they got the wrong house? A mistake in the orders, or..."
He deflated, shoulders slumping. Nine years of friendship. Nine years of trust. Of sharing als and dreams and hopes for their children's futures.
[And he tried to burn my family alive.]
The thought hit him like a physical blow. Not just Margaret. Not just him. But Hazel.
His tea cup cracked in his grip.
"I need answers," he said, voice hard. Margaret squeezed his hand.
"I know, love. But be careful. If he really did..." she trailed off, then tried again. "Well, just be careful."
listair nodded, already planning how to approach this.
He couldn't just confront Rax directly. Not without proof. Not without understanding why.
[Nine years,] he thought again, watching the afternoon sun paint shadows across his kitchen table. The sa table where they'd shared so many als, so many conversations. [Nine years of friendship, and now...]
Now he had to figure out if his oldest friend in Syux had tried to murder his family.
From upstairs ca the distinct sound of Isabella reaching what was probably her fourth or fifth orgasm of the 'morning.' The normal, everyday lewdness of it felt surreal against the weight in listair's chest.
[Rax... what have you done?]
He looked at Margaret, at the worry in her beautiful red eyes, and made a decision. He would get answers. And then...
Then they would see what nine years of friendship was really worth.
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