—&&. * Bones born from DARKNESS.

❛     They broke the WRONG parts of her;; They clipped her WINGS And forgot she had                C L A W S . Now there's both FIRE in her bones And honey in her SOUL. She'll be SWEET when she HAS to be, And FIERCE when She NEEDS to be.    ❜

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .   warparadox:   }}

         The entire time, it was a tug of war game. They were slowly making their way out of the living room as either one took steps forwards and backwards, but now, Sloane found herself on the threshold of her room, icy blue hues locked on the figure threatening to dissipate into the night just outside her bedroom window. What with all the times that The Chameleon had used that as a portal, she was quite practiced, and just one more movement would prove that. Something about it triggered her, and the blonde felt the muscle in her jaw jump as she quickly crossed the room and grabbed Beckett by the wrist, dragging her off the bed and away from the window. For extra measure, she even clambered over to shut it with a snap, sealing them here. If only that were literal.

        “You can’t expect to dump all this SHIT on me and then just dip out at the slightest indication of something not going the way you planned it!” It wasn’t meant to sound so frustrated, but there it was. Probably fueled by the turmoil of emotions inside her, so muddled by everything that just happened. When it came to beating a fucker down, it was black and white. Either she continued fighting to become the victor, or she gave that little advantage and let herself be the one with dirt in her teeth, thrown to the ground. It was simple. When it came to situations like this? It was basically a different language that she barely had a grasp on, and people just expected her to understand them. At least with Beckett, the girl tried to help her, teach her. But even then, it only went so far.

           With a deep breath and another hand through her hair, she started with, “I could come with you. I’m sure there’s work wherever you’re going, but there are tasks that require me to listen to the Commanders, and they may send me to another continent. I can’t promise that I’ll see you all the time.” Saying that hurt more than she expected, and even she flinched. It could be months between missions, months between the times that she could see Beckett, know she was SAFE. In their lives, no one was ever well for long, either kidnapped, tortured, MURDERED. It could happen to any one of them, all the people that she had met in the years within Bucharest. To leave it all, it was leaving a part of her behind. Bucharest MADE Sloane Buchanan. Her life didn’t start until she left Australia. That meant all the people she had grown close to — Beckett — had been there since the start.

           The next part … she choked. Just looking at her, those green eyes, lovely dark hair framing her face, knowing all that they had been through together. How could she not? “I — I love you, Beckett. But I’m the idiot here, not you.” God, she could punch herself.  “ I slept with Elena. ”  There it was. But she couldn’t lie to the Nikolas and say she regretted it, because she didn’t. Elena was someone who she cared about, who cared about her in return, and despite the bad blood between the other two, Sloane couldn’t leave her. Not like that. But she knew that no matter how she explained it, sugar-coated it, lied … it wouldn’t matter. The truth of the matter was that it was something that would hurt Beckett. Deeply. But she couldn’t go on with what they were sharing to each other without telling her all of the truth.

            “I’m sorry I always hurt you.”

The instant calloused fingers curled around her wrist and TUGGED, the second the window CLAMOURED shut in discontent, Beckett FLINCHED. She hadn’t meant to, but the involuntary reflex caused her arm to JERK beneath the blonde’s grip and she was immediately swinging her head around to stare at her frighteningly. ❝ I’m sorry, ❞ pleaded the Nikolas, desperation seeping into her tone, lacing it like venom, despite how much she despised its congealed vulnerability. ❝ I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m just   ---  ❞

Just what, Beckett ? Scared ?

Maybe.

But she’d already trailed off, and the Buchanan was already continuing her rambles, so The Chameleon dismissed whatever obligation she’d been previously endowed to continue her explanation of the fucked up processes occurring within the realm of a fragmented mind. Except, in that moment, she really WISHED she hadn’t, emerald hues tearing themselves from Sloane’s gaze and instead boreing longingly out the window, pasted at the rustling trees in spring’s evening breeze. She felt all at once almost ENCAGED by the weight of their conversation, entrapped by the burden of the sealed window and by unsettling words and the tone in the Buchanan’s voice which Beckett had never heard before. 

She didn’t speak, not even when The Paradox flinched at her own words, registering the impending pain looming overhead at the prospect of their future. Didn’t speak even when the  ‘  I love you   ’  was returned, and certainly didn’t speak at the mention of Elena. Of Sloane SLEEPING with Elena. In fact, it was almost as though that proclamation snipped a wire in her brain tied directly to her emotions, a string of Christmas lights now flickering shut, and her eyes darkened, mere voids compared to the jewels they’d once been. Jaw steeled, hands resting at her sides, tense, robotic, in just one brief instant everything within her had CHANGED and she’d shut down in her entirety. 

❝ That’s fine, I’m happy for you. ❞ It was practically a speech she was rambling off from memory, one she’d exhausted over and over in the sanction of her room, preparing for the day when that confession would come. It’d only been a matter of time, and she’d braced herself for pain, for anger, sorrow, frustration    ---   But not for numbness. Beckett had never experienced numbness. ❝ It’s what you wanted. She’s want you wanted, and you GOT what you wanted. So that’s good. ❞ Her eyes slowly maneuvered from their trance outside to meet the Buchanan’s, searching her expression. ❝ Don’t apologize, I’m fine. ❞

A moment’s hesitation, and then she was reaching for her briefcase, packed with what meagre semblance of belongings she’d grown attached to { the rest, she’d donated to charity }, and proceeded out of the bedroom towards the vestibule.

❝ Maybe you shouldn’t come, ❞ she quipped as she approached the door, shaking her head to herself, back turned to the apartment. ❝ I don’t think you want to, even if you claim you do. Maybe you’re LYING, just like you lied to me when you said you LOVED me. Because you don’t sleep with the person who brutally tortured, who ENJOYED, for that matter, brutally torturing the one you love. ❞ And then without missing a beat; ❝ Don’t apologize to ME, because you’re only hurting yourself. So fucking thank you, Sloane, for turning out just like everybody else, for reminding me why I never trusted people in the first place. You two... You DESERVE each other. ❞ The last line was whispered softly, lower lip quivering, not visible to the naked eye, nor to Sloane, who was still on the receiving end of Beckett’s aversion tactics. ❝ Maybe you should stay here, with her. That’s what’s best for you, isn’t it ? ❞

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .    warparadox:   }}

          Angus must have sensed the atmosphere of the conversation, as the lanky beast walked for his dog bed by the TV, nestling himself there with a bone to g n a w on for the duration. Sloane looked at him fondly for a moment, then returned her attention to Beckett, wanting them to sit and talk — hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard on the other to hear the news she had if they were more comfortable. Of course, things never worked that way, and as she listened, she realized the need to remain standing, FRUSTRATION pouring from the brunette as she paced, spilling forth what she learned about her own dysfunctional family. The sympathy she felt as she watched the tears well, physical signs of anger that Sloane knew all too well appearing, it made her want to be able to comfort her. Especially the knowledge of her younger siblings.

       “I know what you mean,” Sloane muttered, running a hand through blonde tattered locks around her shoulders. “My father was an unfaithful prick, I have reason to believe that I have siblings of my own out there. I think I even met one once, but not since. Why he kept ME around, I’m not sure. Besides the obvious.” She didn’t describe the reason, the abuse too graphic despite all the times they may have discussed it. “I’m sorry you have to go through that. That they have to go through that.” The idea to kidnap them was on the tip of her tongue, a joke or a real suggestion, the intent wasn’t known yet, when Beckett was speaking, rendering the blonde speechless.

         Leaving? The idea seemed so … HARSH to Sloane. The fact that Beckett wouldn’t be in Bucharest any longer, shipped off to God knows where. Not waiting for Sloane to come back. It didn’t feel like she was being abandoned so much as it felt like her home was being taken away. There were far too many memories embedded in this corrupt city, and it felt like everyone was ripping them away, one by one. And now Beckett, all the late night drives, early morning talks, the tears and the secrets, everything … left in the dust. Yet, wasn’t that what she was doing?

          The Chameleon didn’t stop there. The words strung together and Sloane was holding on by just that much, a thread. Beckett wanted her to join her … and them. And that meant Jezebel. A person, despite the mutual respects, Sloane despised. Someone that always seemed to be that little crack in the mirror, a wedge between them. For that reason, her heart became lodged in her throat, halting the acceptance. That and —

           “Beckett …” The Paradox breathed, in the same interval that the other said her own. With that pause, she heard the whisper, the remnants of the words. It settled beneath her skin in a weird chill, mouth agape the slightest, eyes shining with unshed tears of too many reasons to cry.

           “I was promoted.” It came out, a lame response to follow. It wasn’t entirely Sloane speaking, body rigid and unmoving, glassy eyes aimed for the Famine member. “They want me to continue my work with their drug cartels … around the world. As an enforcer, and rehabilitator. Said I’m good at noticing the signs. And beating people into submission. I’m supposed to … leave.”

           I love you. I’m not ready to say goodbye.

        A shake of the head, brows furrowed, a stupid lip quivering. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this. Now they were in too deep, too many strings tangled together, caught in the web. Ice seeped into her chest, freezing the assets to breathing and thinking clearly.

             “I could come.” The words sounded muffled in her head, and she surprised even herself. Because the truth was that neither was she. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to BECKETT. “I’m sure I could find work … wherever you’re going.” Do you love her?

         Yes.

              “Why … why now?” It had to be asked. The insatiable need for answers always outwilled anything else, even the necessity to remain stoic and strong, and all teeth and nails. “Why are you saying this to me NOW?”

EMPATHY plagued forested hues with a glimmer of a meadow, but it didn’t cease the vertigo in her head nor the hammering in her chest nor, still, the quivering of her hands. Beckett Nikolas was a mess, the harsh reality of the fact was that she’d spent YEARS keeping herself together for everybody else, weaving a web of sanity, of CONTROL, only for it to unravel now, before her very eyes, because of one, particular blonde, because of everything else she’d been condemned to in this cursed city.

She attempted a fragile smile, seeking desperately to muster the strength to temporarily stitch herself together, the Buchanan’s tales of infidelity had the Commander cease her backwards steps, if even for a moment. LONGING caused her chest to tighten, and, as she remained suspended there, locked in their surreality of mutual understanding, Beckett thought, perhaps, MAYBE, she could manage to pull herself together.

And then Sloane SPOKE, each word a knife wedged in her web, tearing the threads apart, so much so that the Nikolas could almost FEEL their spools dangling listless from her frame. She’d come undone, face FLUSHED with something she couldn’t quite... EXPLAIN. A panic attack ? Maybe. She’d never had one in her life. So why now, why today, why HERE, at this time ?

❝      Promoted ? Sloane, that’s INCREDIBLE. I’m so happy for you !     ❞     And she was, of course, she was, because the blonde’s accomplishments filled even the Chameleon with pride, because her happiness had, at some point that she had yet to discern, become intertwined with her own. But Beckett didn’t FEEL happy    --    Did that mean... Neither did Sloane ?

It was almost like her ability to read people dissipated before her very eyes, any innate capabilities shut off and no longer, too, could she recall any of her training. So she stood poised there in the doorway, head shaking of its own accord, a single tear streaking down a rubescent cheek. 

❝      Syndicates... That’s where we’re going, to take over some. That girl, Evie, is tagging along, she’s going to become a Commander of some Death sort of thing. The Levines are coming, as well. I think Callie was planning on starting some medical kind of syndicate, offerings meds and health services to other syndicate members...     ❞     She was rambling, Beckett knew, but she couldn’t STOP.      ❝     Point is, there’ll be work. I’m not gonna stop doing what I’m doing    --    it’s my LIFE now   --    and neither should you. So if that means... Doing what you originally planned, I’ll support it. You know I will. But we’re doing pretty much the same, travelling around the world to work, and all of that. You’re more than welcome to come.    ❞

Her words sounded logical, in theory, at least, but each syllable was cut prematurely by the hitch of her breath or the warning of a sob or the promise of another tear. She was on the verge of losing control but she wouldn’t, she COULDN’T. Not after everything.

And still... To stand here now, after having convinced herself that this was the END, that this was GOODBYE, only to have her hope once again dangled, taunted in front of her eyes    ---   She couldn’t handle it.

❝      Because I’m a fucking IDIOT, Sloane. Don’t you get that ?      ❞     Hands rake through her hair, one of those rare occasions where she wasn’t found sporting her leather gloves, proving just how truly VULNERABLE she was. Her nails, too, had yet to grow back fully, nubs compared to what they used to be, but fingertips tugged on her roots nonetheless, attempting to CENTER herself.    ❝      I’m the idiot who falls too hard for people who will never love me back, or doesn’t fall hard ENOUGH for the people who DO. And then, either way, whatever the outcome, I LEAVE. I leave everyone behind, I DISAPPEAR. Because that’s what I do. And here I thought this time, maybe, it would be different. Maybe I DESERVED different.     ❞     Her jaw locks, gaze averted, she’s retreating into the Buchanan’s bedroom one again, stationed for the window, prepared to take her leave. 

And yet, by some magnetic force, she was pulled to stay, lingering with one foot propped up on the bed, one hand poised on the windowsill, both eyes, swamped with melancholy, boreing into the ground by the Buchanan.

❝     ...I’m saying it because I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t. Because I regret everything I DIDN’T do so much more than everything I DID. And I   --   I’m so sorry. You deserve better than this... Than ME. I should go.     ❞

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .   warparadox:   }}

        In hindsight, she should’ve known it was Beckett’s style to somehow still show up unprecedented. Sloane meant her front door was open and she could just let herself in, but of course, she didn’t think about how the thief would take it upon herself to enter through her bedroom window, which she also kept mostly unlocked. She wouldn’t admit it, but it became somewhat of a habit after the months they spent living together in her room in secret. Even now since Beckett had moved on from hiding under the blonde’s bed and in her closet, The Paradox still kept her window unlocked, just in case. Some nights, it paid off, and she would wake up the next morning with a warm body next to her. Nothing implied, just some additional warmth to be grateful for, a friend that she felt so close and comfortable with to share her bed. The best was when she’d find a bottle of pain medicine and some water on the nightstand, the brunette having noticed the latest of the War’s injuries.

          Still, she didn’t start at the abrupt appearance. A mere glance over her shoulder, a small smile, and then she was finishing off her bowl, drinking a bit of the milk and standing to dispose of it in the sink. Instead, arms wrapped her up, and she paused, the slightest of puzzlement on her features, before she was returning the hug herself. It hit her then … just how much she was going to miss the Nikolas when she —

          “Italy? I figured you just got yourself tied up in more trouble,” Sloane quipped, withdrawing from the hug and settling with just setting her dish on the coffee table. “I’m glad you didn’t, though. I would actually have to make someone eat their teeth.” A shrug. “I’ve been good, I guess. Need to start looking for a new place, something smaller, just myself. I can’t fucking stand this place anymore. And … I’ve got things to tell you, too. But tell me about Italy first.”

What surprised her was that Sloane hugged her BACK; the blonde had, indeed, come a long way since their first encounter, all those years ago  {  flashes of what she may consider a vaguely TRAUMATIC experience of an angered drug dealer hopping onto the back of her motorcycle never seemed to escape her  }, but, together, the two had flourished, developed, both with respect to venereal intimacy and the emotional sort, the Buchanan had easily nestled herself into Beckett’s life. And to depart from that      ----

❝       Italy, yes. Originally to do some recon for Famine, but...      ❞  She trailed off, worrying her bottom lip into her mouth. Concerns for her own future were too many, let alone the future of her newfound family, as well as the one she’d amassed for herself.  ❝       I paid a visit to my parents, only to find out it’s not JUST my parents there, anymore.      ❞  She’s pacing around the apartment now, fists clenching of their own accord, fingers trembling with a rare desire for FURY. 

❝       Twins, Sloane. I have baby siblings, who are TWINS. A girl and a boy. The poor things... I had half a mind to just kidnap them and bring them here. My baby brother and my baby sister. I’ll never get to meet them, I’ll never get to LOVE them.       ❞  

Her lower lip quivers, a telltale of the tears lurking at bay, for the moment, threatening to spill from emerald hues.  ❝       But that’s not why I came here.      ❞  A sharp inhale, like ripping off a bandage. Make it quick. Make it easy. And then go. Disappear, like the Chameleon, never to be seen again.  ❝       We’re leaving.      ❞  Her voice is hoarse.  ❝       A bunch of us. Packing up our stuff and getting the hell out of this shitstorm of a city. I don’t really have a choice, but     ---    YOU do. And I can’t, I could NEVER ask for you to come with me...      ❞  

Breath hitches, and she’s already backing away, subtle steps towards the Buchanan’s bedroom, where she could snake out the windowsill, abandon this life, leave before she could be left, before she could be REJECTED.  ❝       But it would mean the world to me if you could come, too.      ❞  Maybe there was a fraction of The Chameleon still clinging to HOPE, hope that her close friend would join her, hope she wouldn’t have to forfeit one of the best things she’s found in this corrupted city.

❝       Sloane...      ❞  

A pause, jaw clenching.  ❝       You’re not obligated to say yes, but I... I just don’t want to LOSE you.      ❞  Didn’t THEY deserve a happy ending, too ? After all the lies, the betrayal, the fighting, the torture, the massacre, the kidnappings, the murders... Wasn’t it THEIR turn ? Would it EVER be ? 

❝      ---    I LOVE you.      ❞  It was barely audible as it left pursed lips, a ghost of a whisper, the fear of each syllable causing tremors to wrack her frame.  ❝       I’m not ready... To say goodbye.      ❞  

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .   queenxofxthieves:   }}

The decision hasn’t been an easy one to make. Bucharest was her home as much as she could remember. This was where she got her own first name, where she grew and collected different experiences. A lot of places were devastatingly gorgeous, but nowhere felt like home, no matter how much trash had been piled up all throughout these past few months. Famine suffered greatly, as many other houses did as well, the anonymous attacker knowing their game and playing it well—no one could be a match. Now, Jezebel didn’t think herself to be STUPID, and had never heard anyone call her such, but even with her brain, even with Pestilence trying to crack this open — it seemed like they still were going to lose.

No matter the loss she already felt between her ribs and slowly sinking into her belly, she knew there was no other way around this. Jezebel could have stayed and watch this whole empire fall, or take what she had and save the people from inevitable doom by taking them..elsewhere. Anywhere, honestly, Beckett and she were yet to decide between a few countries. Whenever they’d go, the plan was to remain the same: chase out or overcome any criminal gangs there might be as of now, take over as much as they could for themselves and like a PARASITE, absorb everything, sink their teeth in every bit of naked flesh they could.

“Yes, I,” she nodded, cleared her throat, “Am—I just need a couple more things.” To be fair, all documents, all files she needed to take she already had packed safely, and material things she owned? Well she didn’t necessarily had to bring them, for they would buy everything new anyway, therefore she didn’t have to really bother with that. And yet, she was stalling. Jezebel caught herself stalling, lips pressed together as she tried to come up with an excuse, fruitlessly. There were people she was leaving behind and it ached to do so, fingers itching to drag them along, but—how could she ask someone to go with her and leave every bit of their life behind? The message to her syndicate’s members were mostly sent out via their own channel, and it was a requirement to leave with them, not an option. Not anymore. But there were a couple of people she wasn’t sure she could drag along. Maia, Estrella, Tommy, with Callie by his side. Therefore instead of messaging them she asked Beckett to do so in person. “Is it done? Have you told them?”

                        Granted, Beckett Nikolas was absolutely terrible at goodbyes, hence why she’s fled from every single important person in her life, so Jezebel couldn’t have picked a WORSE person to send on a wild goose chase around Bucharest to track down several of their key members and tell them about their little    ---   Departure. She’d expected retaliation of sorts, honestly, but surprisingly found little. It was as though her House were breathing in perfect sync with one another, complete unison, save for the exception of Tommy, who’d seemed reluctant until his baby sister’s proclamation that family was family and they were not going to abandon MORE of them, or something along those lines.

                        In all honesty, she’d only been half listening, she’d gotten their agreement and that was all she needed, and so The Chameleon then departed to one particular BLONDE’S place for a painful goodbye   ---   The only one she could muster the strength to do. After that, it had left her drained, an all-nighter from which she’d proceeded here, to meet with the Müller, but that farewell left her reeling, still emotional from the last month’s worth of events, and maybe even more so now. Yet it appeared Jezebel was just as hesitant, and, while they were departing from Bucharest as Commanders of their House, they were meeting, now, as best friends, and the Nikolas found herself pushing her own feelings aside, as she always did for those whom she cared deeply for. 

                       ❛        Jez   ---     ❜      A hand reached gently to lace fingers into those of the Müller’s, giving the other’s a reassuring squeeze.       ❛         They’re all coming, okay ? It’s done. Even Tommy and your cousin    ---   Callie was especially insistent on not leaving your side. And then there’s that girl, the one who calls you her sister, she’s coming, too. It’s not JUST Famine. You’ve got yourself a family, now, one who literally refuses to leave your side...     ❜      She trailed off, the unspoken, bitter ‘you don’t need ME anymore’ nearly careening off her tongue, but she refrained herself from whispering those words; her insecurity a secret she’d take with her to the grave.       ❛         There’s no rush though, alright ? So take your time, get whatever last minute things you need   --   We’ll go when you’re ready, no sooner.     ❜      She’s forcing that familiar smile again, pressing a kiss on her best friend’s cheek, desperately hoping to keep her GROUNDED.       ❛        You’re doing the right thing. For us, for your family, for EVERYONE. I promise.      ❜      

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .   warparadox:   }}

        In the background, Romanian news babbled … just something to fill the silence. The giant ginger dog, Angus, sat across half the couch, crunching on a bone marrow toy she had picked up from the corner store. Since she got him, he had the insatiable habit of chewing on things: shoes, the leg of her desk, and once the gun she had failed to put away. Never again after that. So now she put up with the grating noise so long as he was happy. At least SOMEONE was happy with Sloane these days. Rounding the arm of the couch, she flopped herself down next to him, patting his rump, then taking her spoon to shovel Cheerios into her mouth while pretending to be interested in the affairs of the country.

          You would think that someone who had recently returned from an important House meeting detailing her role within the syndicate for the better, would be in an elevated mood. But she wasn’t. Because they were all on the precipice of change. She could feel it, hanging heavy in the air, baited at the back of her neck. It made her u n e a s y, and so when her phone alerted her to new messages, she was more than willing to have Beckett come over. This fucking apartment would feel a little less daunting with someone else also in it. Maybe there was the change she needed. To get out of this damn place and start fresh. Including the role offered — that could be discussed for another time.

        [ text >> beckett ]: door’s open :)

@chvmeleonisms

                             She’d received the blonde’s text as she was all but dangling from the windowsill of the Buchanan’s bedroom, popping the lock open with a giggle because, really, when did Beckett Nikolas use unlocked, front doors ? Besides, she’d needed the extra few moments as she ducked agilely into her friend’s bedroom to collect her thoughts and to make still the thundering of her heart. From her stance in the doorway, The Chameleon could see maybe half of Sloane perched there, on the couch, shovelling food into her mouth, the echo of a telecaster reverberating through the entire apartment. 

                             It felt almost ghastly somehow; everyone they’d known had slowly started disappearing, LEAVING. Bex, too, would be on that list, sooner rather than later, and this was a talk they had to have, much to her dismay. She’d never been one for goodbyes, always just LEFT, but Sloane deserved something different. Something better. Something... MORE. She looked so happy, though, almost at peace, suspended, with her pup, in some sanction that reminded Beckett of ANYTHING but Bucharest, and that gnawing feeling of guilt pursued once again, causing her fists to tremble.

                             With a sharp inhale she peeled the bedroom door entirely open, stepping into the living room and revealing herself. There was a smile on her face which she forced to meet her eyes, and her tone was soft as she approached the Buchanan, gave Angus a ruffle on his head, and did something she KNEW Sloane didn’t always react well to, but was necessary nonetheless  ---

                                                     Beckett pulled her into a hug.

                             She lingered there, really, taking a moment to commit to memory the smell of her hair and her skin and the feeling of her body pressed against the Nikolas’ own, to ingrain them into the depths of her memories somewhere, maybe, she wouldn’t forget. Because she never WANTED to forget. And these were the details she couldn’t photograph and carry in her pocket; they were unique, completely Sloane’s, and it was all those and more that made Beckett lo----

                             ❛      Sloane. Hi. It’s good to see you    ---    Really good. I just got back from Italy the other day and wanted to come over.     ❜     A pause, releasing their embrace, meadow eyes searching blues.      ❛      So. How’ve you been ?     ❜

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

@queenxofxthieves

              Her re-entry to Romania from her hometown of Italy was bittersweet; if anything, Beckett had arrived with a newfound determination to protect her Famine family at all costs    --   The revelation that she had SIBLINGS, not one, but TWO, twins, even, a boy and a girl, undoubtably her baby brother was unintentional and her parents neglected him as they did Beckett, herself, but    --    She couldn’t SAVE them. And that thought alone was the source of her tears when she’d called Jezebel from the airport in a rare moment of weakness. And so her voyage ended prematurely, with a flight back to the sanction of her best friend’s arms, and they’d collectively made a decision which would impact not only their future, but the future of Famine, as well.

                                       Moving.

              They were moving. Packing whatever belongings they had and departing on an excursion to somewhere... Better. And after the scare with the now murdered First Commanders, Beckett wasn’t about to argue, they deserved something MORE, even if it meant leaving their home in Bucharest behind. She hadn’t had much to begin with, belongings always far and few between; whatever she needed, she reckoned she’d steal when she got there, but she’d made a point to donate most of what she’d taken from this city to charity    ---   For those young, underprivileged children who deserved so much more than they received    ---     And then she was headed over to meet the Müller.

              In hand, a briefcase sized suitcase, leather-covered fingers curled around the handle. It contained her Polaroid and accompanying photos, the ones she never seemed capable of abandoning, along with some essentials as well as her most treasured, black and leather outfits. She inhaled once and then let herself in, assuming the door was open, knowing her best friend was expecting her, and stepped through the threshold. A soft smile twitched at the edges of her lips, exhaustion ringing the underneath of her eyes with purple crescents but she drops her bag to hug The Matriarch nonetheless. 

              It was a fond embrace, albeit a silent one, wordless, no words needed, really, one which marked the beginning of the rest of their lives, and then she was stepping away, shrugging meekly.      ❛      Jez   --   Hi. You almost packed ?     ❜ 

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

[ TEXT ] TRY TO UNDERSTAND I HAVE MAGIC POWERS HOLY FUCKING SHIT

[ TEXT >> @thesccrned ]: ARE YOU ON DRUGS?[ TEXT >> Doormat-ty ]: if not, TELL ME MORE[ TEXT >> Doormat-ty ]: I want to get magic powers too wtf?!?![ TEXT >> Doormat-ty ]: What KIND of powers?

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .   xbubbleheart:   }}

[ text >> bex ✨ ]: Yeah, Lux? He’s real name is James [ text >> bex ✨ ]: I could probably steal his money so much easier now since he’s not suspecting me to anymore lmao, but I don’t want to so [ text >> bex ✨ ]: NOT A BIG DEAL SHE SAYS 😂😂😂 [ text >> bex ✨ ]: Gypsy princess GDI BEX [ text >> bex ✨ ]: Was she hot? 😉

[ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Yeah! I’ve met James before, actually. Seems angry about his life 99% of the time though 😂 [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: “But I don’t want to so” man if only my life as a thief were that easy [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: WELL IT’S NOT, not to me anyways [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: WHY ARE YOU CURSING ME IS MEETING GYPSY PRINCESSES NOT NORMAL??? [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: 😉 Not as hot as you, babes

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

[ TEXT ] ❛ Hey remind me the get the pancakes out of my jacket ❜

[ TEXT >> @rubyrednightingale ]: Rubes???[ TEXT >> Rubes ❤️✨ ]: Are you... Okay?[ TEXT >> Rubes ❤️✨ ]: Why the fuck do you have[ TEXT >> Rubes ❤️✨ ]: ...Pancakes???[ TEXT >> Rubes ❤️✨ ]: In your[ TEXT >> Rubes ❤️✨ ]: Jacket???[ TEXT >> Rubes ❤️✨ ]: Please make sure the cat doesn’t eat them

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

(lydia) ❛ I was randomly pulled aside to have my bag checked. It had 50 condoms in it. ❜

[ TEXT >> @xbubbleheart ]: Well I mean, that’s better than drugs, right?[ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: But seriously Lyds, wtf were you doing with 50 condoms???[ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Did you give them to the guards with a wink and tell them to use them on you? 😂😂😂[ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: JK[ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Sort of. 😂[ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: ...Can I have some?[ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: I have to go cockblock a friend, and if all else fails, I at least want her to be safe 😂

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

[ TEXT ] ABOUT TO MAKE THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE, SEND HELP

[ TEXT >> @queenxofxthieves ]: WHAT DO YOU MEAN SEND HELP?!?!?[ TEXT >> Jez 💋❤️ ]: I /AM/ THE HELP!!![ TEXT >> Jez 💋❤️ ]: WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT TO DO OMG???[ TEXT >> Jez 💋❤️ ]: I’ll send myself?!?!?! 

[percjyackson]

reblog this and put in the tags what your pottermore patronus is!

[thesccrnedgone]

quiz here !

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .   rubyrednightingale:   }}

[ TEXT >> BEXIT 💁🍷 ] : Duh! I mean, it might be nice to have something curl up and sleep beside me. [ TEXT >> BEXIT 💁🍷 ] : Is that code for… you have plans to murder him? [ TEXT >> BEXIT 💁🍷 ] : Chances are if I tried to even just steal a candy bar I’d get caught.

[ TEXT  >>  Rubes ❤️✨ ]: This kitten is an angel! And super cuddly, too. I think you’ll both make each other very happy [ TEXT  >>  Rubes ❤️✨ ]: WHAT?!??! [ TEXT  >>  Rubes ❤️✨ ]: I mean... [ TEXT  >>  Rubes ❤️✨ ]: Look. Just because I’ve never killed before doesn’t mean I wouldn’t make an exception. Also doesn’t mean I don’t fantasize about making that stupid prick cry as many times as he did to you. [ TEXT  >>  Rubes ❤️✨ ]: Sorry, got violent there for a second :) [ TEXT  >>  Rubes ❤️✨ ]: LOL, it comes with practice, trust me. It helped that I would’ve literally died if I didn’t learn, though

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .   xbubbleheart:   }}

[ text >> bex ✨ ]: LOL  [ text >> bex ✨ ]: I mean like, I hacked into his bank account, or at least I THOUGHT I did and ?? someone redirected me elsewhere I swear I was so pissed lol 😴 [ text >> bex ✨ ]: then he confronted me and its all weird 🙈 [ text >> bex ✨ ]: PIRATES 😲😵 [ text >> bex ✨ ]: Legitimate PIRATES?  [ text >> bex ✨ ]: I am SCREAMING WHAT  [ text >> bex ✨ ]: Badass AF 😆

[ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: WTF [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Wait, isn’t that the bar I met you at? The Hedonist’s? [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: I’m sorry, babes. That sounds horrible [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: YES [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Rum drinking, sword-wielding, ship sailing, money stealing pirates [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: LYDS LOL [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: It’s no big deal!! Just one of my adventures. I’ve traveled around the world quite a bit, but, thanks  [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Did you know I also dated a gypsy princess? And travelled with a rock band on tour?

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .   xbubbleheart:   }}

[ text >> bex ✨ ]: No I got caught and now it’s complicated 😂 [ text >> bex ✨ ]: very complicated 😅😨😶 [ text >> bex ✨ ]: Oh yeah back in America I got myself a new passport and all that jazz, but. I was accused of murder and everyone there hates me kinda so I’m just?? reluctant [ text >> bex ✨ ]: And weird as it is, I do like it here. Ruby’s here, too. 😇

[ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Oh my god Lyds  [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Next time TELL me, stealing money from people and not getting caught is literally my speciality 😂 [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: I don’t believe you’d murder anyone though, not for a second, so those dicks can shove a stick up their assholes 🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼 [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: If it makes you feel any better, I can’t leave either, Bucharest is the only place I’m safe from probably certain death LOL. Being chased by a band of pirates because you bailed on your fiancé, the captain’s son, two days before your wedding doesn’t quite make you popular with the crowd [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: I’m glad you’re not leaving though, I quite like having you around 💕

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .   xbubbleheart:   }}

[ text >> bex ✨ ]: WELL [ text >> bex ✨ ]: I’m kind of a..refugee?  [ text >> bex ✨ ]: But I came here for a few things, one of them being hedonist’s money oops  😇  [ text >> bex ✨ ]: 😂😋😇 [ text >> bex ✨ ]: Staying drunk is literally the best thing, and there’s no need to suffer??

[ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Oh, yeah, okay, that’s completely workaround-able though! I mean, I’ve committed identity fraud before [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: You get the money yet? 😂 [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Babes you know, if you ever did want to get out of this shithole and move onto something or somewhere BETTER, I could always help you. I’ve got the resources. [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: I mean, I’d hate for you to leave me but if you’d be happier elsewhere, I can help make that happen. I just want you to be happy, okay? 💕 [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Am I rambling? I tend to ramble when I’m tipsy 😂 [ TEXT >> Lyds 🍭💕 ]: Exactly, yes

[chvmeleonisms-blog]

{{   * .   rubyrednightingale:   }}

[ TEXT >> BEXIT 💁🍷 ] : I mean, if I threw the cat out, that would sort of make me some variant of Satan. [ TEXT >> BEXIT 💁🍷 ] : And I prefer to leave that title reserved for Daniel. [ TEXT >> BEXIT 💁🍷 ] : But I will need a litter box too, and while you’re already having to go to IKEA… 🙃 In what universe would I steal a couch?

[ TEXT  >>  Rubes ❤️✨ ]: AH YOU’RE KEEPING THIS CAT THEN FOR SURE?!?! [ TEXT  >>  Rubes ❤️✨ ]: True. This is so true. He’ll be rotting in hell one day I promise [ TEXT  >>  Rubes ❤️✨ ]: I’ll get you everything for the cat basics!  [ TEXT  >>  Rubes ❤️✨ ]: ...Clearly not this one. Heh