CORDOLIAE (lat, pl.): heart-aches, the miseries stemming from the heart. 🫀 an independent & private multi-muse since ‘20, ft. original characters and an array of canon muses across various genres. constant low-activity. please read the rules before following or interacting. affiliated with defyfates, echospast, sachingja, ahkuneho, and tewwor.
ON THE ROAD TO HELL: diabolus ex-machina, messianic archetypes, the dog bites back, gray and gray morality, found families, because destiny says so & bittersweet and open endings.
low low activity ( semi-hiatus ) is on for the next weeks until god knows when. will be around to reply to drafts and the memes in my inbox, but won’t be on the dash much, or at all even. lots of life going on. see u around, sending love to ur corner of the world. 🤍
marcus: care, sender takes care of receiver when they're sick @ syd 🥲
it's one thing to call out of work, another when it's become up to a whole week of being a no-show. sydney loathed, generally loathed being sick and feeling miserable and sluggish, but even more so when she knew right away how much her absence would fuck with her work at the restaurant. she didn't want to think this way, would be the first to advocate for any of her colleagues or friends to take the much needed time for themselves to get better, but there was something in her mind that always made her the exception to her own rules, that always told her she had to be there, had to do better, had to be healthy faster and get better quicker than anyone else. does that magically make it work? no, of course not, she's been down for the count for a week now, the fever finally having broken over the night, and has spent the day lamenting to herself in bed while she let some nonsensical tv show run over her laptop.
always there to talk her down the ledge ( or even just suffer together ) marcus was on duty to check in on her today and bring some food around for her that wasn't just gatorade or tea. he's let herself in with the spare key and set up camp in her kitchen, periodically checking in on her and taking care of the state her apartment was in, which wasn't pretty, and when he sat her down to eat soup tina made for her and bread he baked for her, she couldn't help but let her sentimentalism bleed through her clogged nose and miserable feeling. she would have held his hand even, but thought better for fear he'd get sick next and the next of their lot would be out of commission. " thank you, marcus, like seriously. this stuff has been keeping me together this week. you have like no idea. "
❛ it's fine even if it's fake. putting on a smile isn't so hard to do. ❜ ( august / chef )
not often does she meet someone talking to her at this market, where people come for ingredients and parts of meals or processes not covered by the usual farmer's market or what one may find in a convenience store. it's a realm beyond realms, a place fallen outside of location, so anyone could visit it any buy something as long as they knew how to enter it. august has seen the man around, usually in small shops and in front of stalls that sold ingredients that mostly needed to be cooked, but she's also seen him eye dish-wear made of such ancient wood or mortar it could hold just about anything you'd put in it. unsurprisingly, for when she got closer, she could always feel small waves of his curiousity and a deep sense of interest at whatever was in front of him. a man of true passion for his work, which means he's got a lot more in common with her than both of them checking out the roots of a plant usually used to help with a more eclectic kind of . . . soup.
" have you smelled this thing? it's abhorrent, " she replies to his comment. holding up the root vegetable, already looking more deformed than any carrot or potato ever should, skin leathery and weird to her touch yet somehow soft when her hand closes around the plant, she holds out her arm enough and up that it's right in his face. " you've seen me before. you know i smile a lot. well, it's true that i usually do, but this thing can upset my stomach like little else. " then she drops the plant into her bag, handing over something from her own apothecary in exchange to the seller to cover the cost. then she looks bac up at the chef, whose audacious nature seems to go hand-in-hand with his behaviour around her. " but i've seen you before too. you're really into all this. take one for yourself too, then you better try to smile. " a pause, then august does smile, genuinely at that. " and never tell a women to smile again. you're lucky you said it to me, because i'm a kind person, but the next round might not go in your favour, chef. got that? "
this has become natural now. there is a crime scene and he is there usually before they can usher him off for the police to do their necessary work, somehow a sixth sense for these things like a crude joke being played on him ever since the events of 2017. what is there to do though, besides doing his work repeatedly and seeing that he can close the cases that seem to fall his way before they can be spun into the spindles of the unfair wheel spun between those who have the most money and the most influence. if it were up to them, no one would look the way of dead teenagers or even taken prosecutors, no loss to cut where there is nothing to see. simok does not live his life that way. what he lacks in feeling for the things he sees, he makes up for seeing them to begin with, and he never shies away.
the fog is so heavy here that he can barely see a thing. it reminds him of the case with the drowned students, of that night he first found out about it. this time he has not stopped by the beach, though the call he got from one of the local officers led him to a vacation area with small bungalows reminiscent of sea-side retreats. apparently the couple they found has been dead without anyone being able to do something, only found because the woman had a young child out of her first marriage and the child has been wandering around the community for hours this night. simok hasn't talked to the young boy yet, but someone else is there to do so. simok hasn't spoken to dongjae yet either, to ask why he is here ( possibly he got relocated, or the new job woncheol mentioned has him look over the prosecution service's shoulder ) or why he is has had the recent fable to appear in front of simok out of thin air, like he used to when they still worked in the same building.
when @sachingja has finished talking to the child, he walks past overhead lights and fog up to simok, a frown on his face betraying everything and nothing. it could be there for a hundred different reasons, with him it is always hard to tell what compels his feelings exactly, so many possibilities. they live in different versions of reality, and yet dongjae reaches over with a handkerchief and rubs over simok's forehead and his eyebrow, not as gentle as one may assume but with the thorough pressure of a man who has done this before with others. now simok looks at him in confusion, a finger pointing at his face. dongjae tells him he had blood there, shows him he handkerchief now tinged faint red. " oh, " is all simok has to say to that. it was probably from when he inspected the bodies, the police already too fast for him to take his time. " i haven't noticed. "
DESPITE HIS TENDENCY TO KEEP TO HIMSELF, EZRA DOES MANAGE TO INTERACT WITH THE WORLD SOMEWHAT REGULARLY. more than anything, he views himself as a bit of an observer, lingering on the periphery of everything else like some sort of documentarian, bearing witness to the lives of others from the outside. he wants to engage, sometimes – of course he does – but most of the time, he isn't sure where to start. so he is content to watch. to experience in a quieter and gentler way than the rest of his family, even his gentle father. he supposes these outings of his are part of that, part of his role as witness, and he doesn't expect to step out of that today. it's when he sees sydney standing at the bookshelf with her back to him, eyes fixed upon a point far above her, that he realizes he won't only be observing today.
a warmth fills his chest that, for a brief moment, makes him feel less alone.
ezra knows he's quiet for his size, but he still doesn't really mean to sneak up on her or alarm her. he can feel his own gaze turn soft and apologetic when she briefly tenses as he reaches over her shoulder to pluck the book off the shelf above her. without yet a verbal greeting, he offers her the book, exhaling quietly in some small relief when she confirms it's the correct one. if he can be little else, at least he can be observant. and if he can use that to assist the people he likes, admires, then all the better. once the book is out of his hands, he leans his palm against the shelf beside her, balancing some of his weight on it, a book of his own tucked under his other arm.
" scan your mind? god, the last thing I'd ever want is to be able to read people's thoughts. can you imagine how loud it'd get? " he shrugs, sheepish, his gaze dropping briefly to his toes before he pulls it back up to her face again. " nah, just your eye line. you were very focused. let's call it an educated guess. " his fingers tighten just slightly on the shelf beside him as he fights the urge to look down again. his shyness annoys even himself at times. " mostly I wish I wasn't so tall. usually inconvenient, fitting in cars and airplane seats, trains, anything ... but I guess it can occasionally be helpful. I'm a bit surprised to see you here in the middle of the day. was beginning to think you didn't get days off. "
the cold could creep in anywhere, but it is also universally acknowledged that small stores are the last remaining havens of cosiness in a season that's nothing more than heavy snow turning into ice and sludge on the street and darkness when sydney leaves for work in the morning and when she comes back. there's something nice about spending her off-day bundled up in layers of her clothes, hair secured under a hood, only having to brave some of the elements when she'd dip in and out of stores and different hole-in-the-walls anyway. it's the only way she can imagine spending her off-days outside instead of lazing around at home, letting her strained muscles and her mind rest, but she's never been the biggest fan of sitting around idle anyway. better to be out, even in the freezing cold, and chase some of the itches under her skin she never could get to while she's on the clock. marcus had his baking books and all those travel logs of chefs going big places, but sydney always preferred things a little closer to home, closer to herself, and to seek for inspiration there.
the bigger surprise than being outside was meeting ezra again, someone she's first seen at the beef here and there and then still returning to the restaurant ( that's the bigger surprise ) and not only the sandwich window they had open half of the day, though she's pretty sure he'd still prefer that over what they are doing now. anyhow, fine dining isn't an every day experience by all means, neither is their restaurant, all the regulars the diner had before were from, well, before, so sydney only had a few touch points with the crop of customers ebra still handled most of the time. but she knows ezra because of their few run-ins, and his warm nature, and because he's always been kind if a little sky, a good foot put forward where others may have just let syd scuttle back and forth on her breaks and talk herself into a frenzy on her own. he is not like that and he demonstrates it now too, handing her the book with no lack of kindness and no lack of manners either. what a strange world - men could still do that? on their own? sydney decides not to question him.
" oh, yeah. that makes sense. sorry, i had, like, picked a few books to read up on for some new recipes. not restaurant ready yet, but you know, something to mess around with. i didn't expect the one at the top of my list being this far up the top. i was just thinking about how to get it done without making a scene, " she explains, offering ezra a smile when she finishes, feeling a little found out that even anyone in the shop could have seen her climb up one of those shelves. thank god this didn't happen. thank god ezra was the only one who even noticed her, probably helped by the height of his. looking up from the book and into his face, she can see him watch her first and then the shelf past her head, the notion making her smile even wider. " i wish i was a bit taller, but i guess it's how the world works. you're just fine to me, though, and it helped, so i can't complain! oh, i have one day off a week but i don't always go out. restaurant's closed on wednesday. what are you doing here in the middle of your day? "
aria for eurydice : cold, sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.
the wind has never been her friend and never has it been her stranger either. she has always known it well, how it howled through the forests and how it howled across a great plane, and how it showed little remorse to those not made for it. she has always wanted to see the world, to make a life where she could feel the tree branches of all the forests and where she could watch the endless flocks of birds unleash their wings into the air, always on the road themselves, never tied to one place for too long. adventure with a home to return to, a place to allow her to go but to always welcome her back, and that would shelter her in between her many journey. yes, she has longed for it, and nearly had it, only for it to disappear into the thin wind of a song and be trampled under the fickle feet of men.
what else is new? nothing under the son. the wind keeps singing its lonely melody and she keeps hearing it a faint sound in her ears, chilling her to the bottom of her toes, to the core of her body. she could feel herself start to shiver - eurydice was always lonely before she was anything else, the cold of it suffusing her flesh and bones.
as she rubs her hands together in front of her face, a coat much thicker than anyone she's ever known is placed around her, the witch who has so kindly opened her door to eurydice on her journey stepping outside as well. aria has been a blessing in disguise, a kindness warming her from the inside in a way nothing could ever warm eurydice, and it almost made the nymph feel bad for staying for days now, overstaying her welcome most definitely. the independent spirit in her told her to keep going, to brace the outdoors she called home for most of her life again, but the part of her that has been below and back just wants to stay - wants to feel something else than loneliness. " oh, i think i forgot the time out here. thank you. this is - reliable. thank you, really. " a simple smile, halfway there but earnest, as she looks up at the witch. " it's like you could just tell the wind picked up. "
to tonda: i have never felt cold, yet i am cold. are you warm?
frost eternal, the ice digs into their head and the root of their neck at constant pressure points. familar to this feeling, desensitized as they are to most everything happening to them, the cold does not move them much. it is their haven, the same way birds flock to the sun when they find the season turning and bears burrow deep underneath the snow to make it through the harsh reality of winter. they are the opposite, exposed to the elements and almost glowing from the snow's depths around them, the sun in the sky a mere drab image of it only made realer for his presence. they have noticed so immediately, the keen eye of an ancient thing, though they let him play with the fractures of light the way one may watch flowers grow before they'd wither in a change of wind.
" what you feel and what you are shall not be mistaken. they are not the same, boy king, " they tell him - unceremoniously, the murky glaze of their eyes seems to penetrate none of the shining young man's curiousity, nor his audacity, and there is little tonda has patience for than humans, even halflings. they have as much patience for those as they had for other fae, courtly ones at that, so the seelie heir sparks the same interest in them as the wind in the trees far down the feywild's land would. which is to say very little. but he somehow has crossed paths at the border of icy death and wilderness, and they could not let him go without making sure of his motives.
if he were here to hunt them, or any in their part of the realm, they'd have to plan executing him in return. turn an eye of his to stone or make him lose his hand maybe, to keep from the more tedious work. " to ask others if they know the warmth you experienced - as dark as the side of the sun you frequent, you should know better. " they lower their head enough to inspect him, though remain at distance they prefer. " your heart beats. there is still warmth in your bones. what does a prince need from the lonely mountains he can't find in his home? "
it takes every inch of his being, every fiber of self-disipline, to not preen and gloat that he managed to sneak up on vincenzo cassano. you've still got it, ahn giseok! indeed, he straightens, teeth piercing into the fleshly inside of his cheek in an effort to keep any excessive reaction at bay.
"ah, yes." his spine gives by a fraction, more at ease than he was before. "i stayed up half the night—no, scratch that, the entire night—pouring over what you sent me, though i am one hundred percent certain your finely-honed instincts caught something i did not—"
a beat. awash with genuine admiration and almost out of breath, "mr. consigliere."
it should not surprise vincenzo that the NIS agent has his means and ways to enter the rooms of the law firm without anyone, i.e. vincenzo, knowing. he probably got led in by a good-natured hong cha-young in the morning while vincenzo was fighting the shower again. or maybe he sneaked in the night before, god only knows the answer to that. vincenzo discards the thought once the man's actually tuned into the conversation, the question offered not one solely made to find out if giseok had any reason for being here but also to put his connection to the intelligence service to good use when interpol still didn't like hearing his name come up anywhere. spoilsports.
" i just have to make sure. it's no use ringing the alarm on anything that isn't concrete. lawyer hong told me she'd prepare everything for the court hearings herself, but after the misconduct in babel chemical came to light it's mostly fluff pieces to weed through. you understand how much time that takes. " softening his features as much as he can, vincenzo looks up at giseok with the most beatific expression he can muster ( and what an actor he is. ) he'd call in mister cho for intel or ask luca, but out of anyone vincenzo's met here, ahn giseok seems the most clued in to actual, normal civilian life. " is there anything on the head of babel group that's older than a few months? a year? " pausing, vincenzo looks back at the marked parts on the papers cha-young printed for him to dig through, a leftover method employed by her father as well. " it seems that they embargoed the press for a good while. "
the ache sits deep in his chest, lead covering his torso from head to toe. it took hwarim and and sangdeok to fill him in, yeonggeun too worried to even speak, for him to find out how far his possession went. not even stitching back up where the blade entered could have kept it from going as far as it did, eating through him like a wildfire through his marrow only leaving ash in its wake, his body still feeling foreign to himself a week later, two weeks later, every day and night he spent confined to this stupid hospital bed. bonggil missed walking around like he wanted to, missed working out, missed every hour of his day he usually spent with hwarim ( all of them, more or less ) and hated spending them by himself.
physical therapy was a slow crawl, frustrating him, and he hated that the possession incapacitated him in so many ways. the thing he hated the most, more than his sluggish body and the emptiness in his mind after having another voice inside of it, was seeing hwarim leave out of the door knowing she'd have to work their client list on her own without his help, or his input in the moment. that she had to prepare rituals on her own, he couldn't reassure her, couldn't offer a helping hand or follow their usual rule of switching places for the more daring manoeuvrers. the idea of her on her own with whatever evil dwelling in houses or people alike left a bad taste in his mouth.
she can see it on his face of course, when he's back from getting a haircut ( what a change ) and managed another hour of physical therapy that left him aching everywhere. visitor hours are about to be other and bonggil can already feeling himself long for her return. more than anyone else, more than any part of the outside world, he longs to see his master's stern face again telling him to take it easy, neutral features breaking open to reveal laughter when he promises her he'd always try to take it easy with her at his back. what she says is different now, runs so much deeper, and bonggil can barely turn his head towards her to look at her. " i am sorry, " he says anyway, mumbles it into the scratchy hospital pillow. seeing hwarim's open gaze flays him open more than any blade - he'd get possessed and die for her ten, twenty times over. " i am making you wait so long. i'm sorry. "
it is the sound that shocks his system before the flurry of movement, giseok ( no, agent ahn, vincenzo firmly reminds himself ) coming down the maisonette level of jipuragi like a ghost appearing out of thin air. " how did you - never mind," he says, shaking his head to himself. his finger has put a dent into a file on babel chemical, the common plague as always, and he must have been mumbling or thinking out loud while the office was deserted and he had most of the time after his lunch break to pour over the files before booting up his laptop to cross-reference some things he needed to check.
that must have been it, he thinks, as giseok is across from him, all gangly limbs and so much movement before becoming entirely still again, a salt pillar or the caricature of on, but in a dependable way vincenzo can't or would never frown at, at least not in front of the other man. ( he doesn't try to frown in front of youngwoon either, it's only fair. ) leaning back in the office chair, he steeples his hands on the desk. " it's just these files i have been going through on the history of one of babel's ventures. are you familiar with them? "
