it's not god who kills the children...

it's us. it's always us ... dr. cyrus bray "c.b." vogol, jsd. ... public defender ... "gifted" human ... psychic medium or something like that

[cb-vogol-sjd]

Do you like your job? Why? Why not?

“I love my job overall. Even if it demands most of my energy. I guess it feels like what I was put on this earth to do. And that’s not to say it’s not excruciatingly difficult sometimes.”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

If you could choose to be another species, what would you be and why?

“I’m sure you’re going to give me flack for this, but I’m quite happy as I am. If I had to choose I’d be a regular, old, human. I’m not going to stand here and wish away my... ‘‘‘gift’’’ but there’s no denying my life would have been much different if I didn’t have it.”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

pretty sure i'm meant to be asking the questions, but go on.

pretty sure i'm meant to be asking the questions, but go on.

[cb-vogol-sjd]

whitelavv‌:

“i’d believe you.” he was not stranger to other people’s pain. he saw it plenty when he went out drinking. the type of places he liked to frequent didn’t generally attract partiers. misery loved company. he took a sip of his coffee. “what is edgy tweens say? no one dies a virgin – life screws us all in the end.” he bit the inside of his lip, not quite believing he’d just said that.

“no, been here awhile. i’m aware of the… current situation.” best way of putting it, right? current apocalypse, maybe. but he still felt weird talking about that around mundanes. he could sense that this man wasn’t a mundane although he couldn’t sense what. “it won’t be. but i did move here for the quiet life so.”

A laugh, “Is that what they say?” Obviously amused by that, Cy sighed, “God.” He ran his hand over his chin in thought, smile still resting on his lips, “I suppose there’s some truth to that... There’s a finality there though that doesn’t bode well with me.” Cy wasn’t an optimist, nor was he a cynic. Sometimes the glass was just 1/2 and 1/2. Like the flip of a coin, he liked to believe in the possibility that change would come.

He let his guard fall, ever so, “...Excuse my caution. You never know with people these days.” There were hunters running around after all; it wasn’t exactly safe for everyone. He’d be cryptic for as long as he needed.

It was when the man spoke again, however, that Cyrus swallowed a burst of pain. Over the years, he’d perfected how to conceal the whiplash of blips of someone’s life flashing before his eyes. Today was no different, showing little to no change in expression as he brought his mug to his lips. There was so much... grief radiating from the man across from him. That, coupled with his own, made for one hell of a headache. “Mm. So did I, I think. But we both know how life can be sometimes.”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

@finchrobin​

Having been bouncing from meeting to meeting all day, some more lively than the others (literally and metaphorically,) Cyrus was exhausted. He was running on 4 hours of sleep and a coffee from the shitty connivence store on the corner and sheer fucking willpower god damn it.

Undoubtedly, Cy felt an extreme pride and dedication in and for his work -- his heart beat for other people; he worked for them not himself. After all, he was the free one. He did not take that privilege for granted, even if his stake in the defense of the dead put strains on his relationships in life. He was currently one wife short and one daughter 1/2 there and stuck with a fucking cat. That was his life now.

“Hey, hold that elevator?” He called, picking up his pace to slide through the doors, immediately pressing his fingers to his temple in sharp pain. Something was wrong with this elevator and he was opening his mouth to form a quick on ‘second thought...’ when he noticed who was standing next to him, “-- Robin Finch?” He smiled. It’s been... a long time since they last saw each other and that momentary distraction was enough to let the doors slide close and the elevator begin to move. Or start to move, rather, until it wasn’t anymore and with a jolt they were, effectively, stuck. 

“Not an ideal circumstance. But its good to see you.”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

shadowman-clark‌:

“Awww! You dont like widdle ol mee?!” Clark pressed a hand to his chest, an expression flickering through his face like he was about to cry before it turned into a wicked smirk. “Well…than I am sure you and, uh….your friends have many things in common.” He mused, bending at the waist to lean down to loom over the other, a slight belittle to the other’s height as he smirked down at the other. “Tell me….how does it settle with them to know that their killer still walks? That their bodies and souls will never have rest?” Clark chuckled. “Oh I bet they are veeeerrrryyyy loud around you, hm?”

God. He hated this guy.

“Don’t you ever get tired of hiding in the darkness? Like a coward.” He exhaled sharply through his nose when the warlock closed the distance between them. He would not stand here and be patronized. There was so much that Cyrus could say but wouldn’t give Clark the pleasure. 

Still, his jaw clenched.

Clark couldn’t be certain their souls would not move on. Cyrus worked painstakingly, every fucking day, to assist in that tedious; exhausting; and mentally, physically and emotionally demanding process. He sacrificed his friends. His marraige. Sometimes his own sanity for other people who had their hands tied. For Clark to insinuate they’d never see justice was the upmost form of disrespect.

He cut the taller off somewhere in the middle of ‘very.’ 

“I’m going to need you to take a step back, Clark.”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

lawman-quint‌:

“Goin on a month now.” He replied with a small nod, a little surprised it had already been that long. It was like he blinked and he had already been here a few weeks. Quint set the mug down with a sigh. “I dunno…I dont wanna step on toes either but evidence is evidence; even if people think its useless, it can be somethin that puts a bad guy away or sets an innocent man free.” Quint shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck a little.

Quint chuckled softly. “That obvious, eh?” He replied, moving to cross his legs. The other question caught Quint by surprise, the man blinking before shaking. “Nah…just a normal town.” He replied honestly. “People a lil more…skittish. But I just figured that is just the culture or whatever.”

A month.

Cyrus had been in this town for years and still couldn’t fully comprehend the importance of the place. There was magic here, powerful magic. When he first arrived with his wife it put a strain on their relationship, sometimes Cy would just zone out, eyes white... He couldn’t help it.

“Mm.” he responded, nodding, “I respect your commitment to civic responsibility. We need more people on the force like you.” He finished his coffee, a small chuckle fell from his lips, “Nothing at all? The entire time you’ve been here?” Quint was a man of his word, Cy knew that so he wasted no time waiting for a response, voice low “What if I told you, Quint, that there’s more going on with this town than just a... skittish disposition?”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

shadowman-clark‌:

Clark was fucking bored….the energy was buzzing in this damn town, but no one was doing….anything! There were literally hellions in the city and yet it was just as boring as a normal Sunday day! The warlock risked going outside, knowing the sun would set soon and the shadows would be long and wide. He was walking down the street when he saw a familiar small face, the warlock stoping comicaly mid step to look at the gifted human. A slow, twisting smirk pulled out his face, dark eyes flickering predatorily before he changed direction and started walking towards the other. 

“Awwww!! you make it sound like you dont like me!” Clark whined, pouting at the other. “Is that really really how to great someone who makes sure you have soooooooo many friends to talk to?”

Cyrus could feel that energy, maybe more than the normal resident of Wildemount. Hell, some people didn’t even know there was an apocalypse in their midst. Cyrus knew multiple of them.

He thought of Quint.

It was only a matter of time before the pot boiled over. And honestly, he had no idea what side was the right one to be on.

All Cyrus could do was prepare. And wait. And try to keep sane with bozos like Clark running around. His response was gruff, “That’s because I don’t like you.”

He took a step back from the man, already feeling the migraine coming on. He could never figure Clark out. It bothered Cy. As if there was a dark curtain covering the man and keeping the psychic from getting into his head.  “I do just fine without your help.” Talk was an understatement, it was more along the lines of screams while Cyrus was trying to sleep, “Still don’t give a damn about your immoral reputation, I guess? Since all I ever hear about you is lousy. I hope you’re satisfied.”  

[cb-vogol-sjd]

@shadowman-clark​

All Cy wanted to do was enjoy his latte. That was all. He had the day off, he was going to run some errands. Maybe do some reading. Maybe stop by the office and look over some reports. It would have been great. That was until walking down the sidewalk minding his own damn business did he notice the talk, dark, and extremely annoying man coming his way. It was like the ground shook with the screams of Clark’s victims past under his feet.

He muttered a short, “Damnit.” Under his breath, but it was too late. God he hated this guy, “Well.” a fist balled into a fist then released, managing to keep his powers under control. Interacting with Clark was always like... static. Sensory overload for Cyrus. “Isn’t it my lucky day.”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

whitelavv‌:

samson nodded, a wry curl to his lips as he brought his coffee up to take a swig. the bitter liquid was nearly scalding but it was what he needed. a distraction from the throbbing behind his temples. “that it does,” he replied, thinking privately that he was far from the ‘best of us.’ “samson. pleasure to meet you.” it lacked emphasis but that could be chalked up to how he was feeling.

he raised a dark eyebrow at the man as he spoke. premature, yes. overbearing, a little? but it caught his attention. he scared off most people that would offer their empathy. “rough life. boring week.” the truth, somehow. although he’d transferred to the nearest institute because it was boring, that had been before the veils had fallen. yet even in a min-apocalypse, there were moments of quiet. “what about you?”

His response to the introduction was a mere hum, bringing his cup to his lips. He took no insult to the lack of emphasis. Cyrus wasn’t exactly ecstatic most of the time either. But what he was was semi-overbearing. He was a father, middle aged, and obviously well meaning.

Samson’s comment brought a smirk to his face, “How succinct of you.” He matched the mans quirked brow with one of his own, “Would you believe me if I said the same? But some part of me believes that that’s most of us, isn’t it? The ‘rough life’ part at least.” After working as a attorney for years he’s come to the conclusion that life was a bitch in some capacity for everyone. “You just move to Wildemount? Something tells me it won’t be boring here for much longer if it’s any consolation.”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

lawman-quint‌:

Quint shrugged his broad shoulders a little with a soft sigh as he reached for the coffee, leaning back in the chair as he brought the hot mug to his lips. “I havent been here long, so I am just going off of what he said.” He admitted with a tired smile. “Either way…gonna try to find him sir.” Quint didnt like that someone was able to just walk way with evidence, and long as he was on the force he would make sure it wouldnt happen again.

The man hummed softly as he took a small sip of the hot black coffee. The mention of the fog made Quint arch a brow lightly, tired gaze not looking convinced. “Your ‘witness’ claiming they saw more now?” He asked

Cy quirked a brow, “Oh, that’s right. How long has it been? -- And what more can you do.I’m sure you don’t want to step on any toes.” A shrug of his own, “Well, we at the courthouse appreciate it. Too many odd things have been happening lately. It’ll be good to have some answers for once.”

He leaned back at the look on Quint’s face, a deep laugh falling from his lips, “Excuse me for sounding presumptuous but you don’t seem all that convinced.” gently tossing the paper to the side of the table, he folded his hands in front of him on the cool surface, “Can I ask you a question, Quint? Have you really not seen anything... outside of the norm lately? Anything at all?”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

whitelavv‌:

“hungover?”  samson  asked,  raising  an  eyebrow at the stranger as he sunk into the seat. no reason to beat around the bush. there were dark circles beneath his eyes and there was no styling to his hear. “i might’ve overdone it last night.” and the night before that and so on and so forth. he’d been overdoing it for years now. the mixed blood in his veins made it harder and easier. 

The blunt response forced a smile to Cy’s face, “Now that you mention it. Yeah,  that’s the word I’m looking for.” He motioned to the seat across from him with his reading glasses, “Sit. Take a load off.” He took a sip from his coffee as the man continued, “Happens to the best of us. Cyrus.” He introduced himself.

A pause, “...Well, this is going to come off as premature as we’ve literally just met,” glancing at his watch, “-- Two minutes ago but I get it. I do. Lord knows how many times I’ve ‘overdone it’ in my lifetime.” Cyrus wasn’t really well versed in tapping into or controlling the full depth of his powers, but he could tell that this man had... some baggage. To put it politely. But so did he, “Rough week?”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

lawman-quint‌:

Quint had originally wanted to call off the coffee meeting, having pulled a late night shift and was tired. But he could hear his wife’s voice in the back of his head, reminding him that he needed to be social. So, sighing and getting dressed, Quint moved to go to the coffee shop down the street. 

The cop dipped his head towards the other in greeting, humming softly. “Mornin, sir.” He replied, moving to sit down after pulling his hand away from the shake. “No worries, black is fine.” he replied honestly, Quint reaching for the mug. The other bringing up the case, made Quint grunt softly. “Uh…well…the captain aint that interested in it. Said somethin bout how it happens all the time. But some cameras down the street did catch some guy tossin things away in a few trash cans as they walked so we are tryin to see if we got records of him.” Quint shrugged. “But yeah…I dunno. We are tryin, sir.”

Cyrus had succumbed to the fact that Quint would always call him ‘sir’ and that was fine. The lawyer found it charming (if an unnecessary formality). But as much as Cy just wanted to talk about, oh, he didn’t even know... Sports, maybe? Maybe even politics? Maybe even television shows they liked? He knew he was partly here on important business.

He could hear his ex-wife in his head scolding him for beating around the bush on the matter but Cy didn’t exactly want to just thrust everything on Quint. A... gentler approach was more his speed.

Cyrus hummed in interest at the grunt, “Happens all the time, hm?” Silently, Cy wondered how many supernatural beings were on the police force. He folded his hands together on the table, “Well, you’re the professionals. I’m sure he knows what’s best.” He didn’t want to pry about the case, musing over what a natural segway towards the topic of the veils would be from here, “...Quint.” he began, straightening his newspaper, “You remember the black fog I was telling you about the other day? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just fog.”

[xwxnderlust-blog]

“I know but I can’t find it anywhere.” So much for this venture. She had forgotten that some of her favorites in the states weren’t necessarily here in the UK. Now she had hunted every fridge to no avail. “Either I’m blind or you guys don’t have it.” Eyes shifted to the person beside her she decided best to ask while she hung up her phone. “Nesquik chocolate milk? Have you seen it?” ( @veilsstarters​ )

[cb-vogol-sjd]

He was examining the orange juice options when the woman next to him spoke. And for a moment, Cyrus could hear the laughter of his daughter, smell the cookies baking in the oven... A smile, shaking his head in slight amusement, “I... Haven’t had anyone mention Nesquik to me since...” He let his voice trail off, finishing instead, “-- They don’t have the bottle here. But they have the powder. I can show you.” picking up his basket Cy led the woman down the aisles, “My, uh, ex-wife would get very upset with me. But my daughter used to love that stuff. And I couldn’t say no to her. She’s half American after all, and you know how we like anything that isn’t good for you there.” Motioning towards the shelf, “There it is.”

[whitelavv]

samson’s  head  was  pounding.  he  needed coffee and a place to sit, pronto. he had the coffee but the cafe was busy. a little on the loud side too but that sounded more appealing than the cold air outside. he approached a table with an empty chair, waving to get the attention of the person sitting on the other side. “would you mind if i sat here?” / @veilsstarters​

[cb-vogol-sjd]

Sitting at the cafe was always less... depressing than working at home. Cy felt less alone, even if he was sitting by himself. The baristas had gotten to know him, it had become apart of his routine. But as the cafe grew in popularity (which he was happy for, it meant more tips to the men and women behind the counter) it meant that his mornings became less and less peaceful. But he didn’t mind sitting outside in the chill. A hot cup of coffee and the book of the week seemed to make up for needing to keep his jacket on. He was half expecting someone he knew to be stood in front of him at the voice. Surprised when he didn’t recognize the stranger’s face,

“Oh, of course.” He motioned to the seat across from him then flipping a page in his novel, “It’s loud in there, isn’t it? Can hardly hear myself think -- Are you alright? You look...” What was a polite way of saying someone looked ill?

[cb-vogol-sjd]

lawman-quint‌:

The other’s clarification made a brow slowly raise on the officer, as he looked at the lawyer. “And ya sure this…witness was sober?” He asked honestly in response, just not feeling that this witness was reliable. Someone took the evidence, so someone saw something…not smoke, or fog. Quint nodded softly as the other motioned to the stairs, the man about to take his leave but stopping when Cyrus offered the card. Quint blinked, a little surprised. And after a moment of hesitation, Quint took the card. “Uh…thanks.” He offered with a nod. “I will, sir. I appreciate ya help on this.”

The taller man’s response forced a short chuckle from between Cyrus’ lips. He ran a hand over his chin. The last thing he wanted to do was make Quint more unsure than he already seemed, “Oh, definitely. You know, I don’t think they drink much anymore.” It was clear to the lawyer now that there was a much... broader conversation to be had. But that could wait till they were both off the clock, and Quint felt more at ease. Getting the man to sit down before they spoke would probably be a good idea as well. Just in case.

--

The small coffee house that they had scheduled to meet at was quaint. It was almost unheard of for their schedules to aligned at this time of day but Cyrus wouldn’t complain. He chose a quiet table in the corner of the establishment, flipping through the paper when Quint arrived. His greeting was warm, “Mornin’.” before offering a customary handshake, “I don’t know how you take your coffee. If you need cream I could flag someone down.” He took a sip from his own mug. Cyrus always took his cup black, nothing frilly.

“While I hate to ask this on your day off I can’t help but be curious about the case? Any progress?”

[cb-vogol-sjd]

- veils task 001 | cy’s town home - 

...Cy still lies in the family home he used to share with his ex-wife and daughter. He couldn’t bare to move. There’s still a swing in the front yard. Sometimes the neighbors whisper that they swear they see it moving back and forth without anyone sitting in it. If there’s one thing anyone would notice about Cy’s place is that it is filled head to toe with books, newspapers, vinyl, and other memorabilia. He’s a big jazz and soul fan, and most often will have a Chet Baker or maybe Joao Gilberto & Stan Getz album on, some of his favorites.

As he lives alone (other than his daughter’s cat, fondly named Miss Kitty because that’s what happens when you let a 4 year old name your pet) there’s always a spare room and a pot of coffee waiting for you if you ever need to stay. You’ll just have to ignore the mysterious cool breeze throughout the entire home. And sometimes, the faint sound of a small child’s laughter in the walls. Ghostly, huh?