hell & wildfire

men who play god will die like one. a myth barely remembered and their names but a whisper. var sc_project=12015818; var sc_invisible=1; var sc_security="2add12f1";

[danteadkins-blog]

emiliadelacroix‌:

Emilia found the opera to be a nice break from her life. No worrying about her family, no grieving the lost of her parents, just singing and supporting her best friend. She often wished she was born with the ability to sing half as well as her anchor, but she knew she was never meant for this life. She was a royal. She was created to be a public figure and help lead the nation. Of course, no one in her family allowed her to do much helping, but she supposed supporting them from the sidelines worked well enough. Maybe one day her elder siblings would see potential in her, but for now she was fine with just doing whatever she wanted. 

She took in the figure next to her. He was clearly powerful if he managed to get the seat next to her. She knew her security detail checked out those that would be in close contact with her– a feat that she often times protested as being “too much”. She didn’t like to judge people on a basis such as their wikipedia page or arrest record. She liked to be able to make her own judgment calls. Call her crazy, but she wanted to know someone on a more personal level. She grinned when he spoke about the singer. She always enjoyed talking about Quinn’s achievements. 

“I’d say the singer is the best one they have. You chose a good time to come.” She mused, leaning forward in her seat to try to get a better look at the stage. She had hoped to be able to spot Quinn warming up, but the curtains were drawn too tight for her to make out any figures backstage. With a pout, she leaned back in her seat and glanced at the man again.

“And what do you like doing if not the opera?”

Whilst Dante might have left halfway through the Opera after dealing with his subordinates, his plans immediately changed the moment he realised who exactly was int he seat adjacent to his own. How intriguing and unexpected, to have the youngest Delacroix within his grasp — especially when she could be such a tool to be used when it came to a rather irritating fire king. One that seemed to be likened to a thorn in his side, although he would never triumph to create a new world like Dante knew he could do so; especially when he saw the greater picture, and had the tools by his side to ensure the finality in his plans. 

A charming smile placed upon his lips, he turned towards the younger girl, allowing himself to slip like a snake into a new skin, seeming much more inviting and open than he would ever usually be. After all if he was to make a good first impression, this would be it. He would be the charming man to sweep the princess off of her feet if that was what it took. Especially if he could mess with a certain Liam Gray’s plans at the same exact time. His eyes flickering over her figure, he leaned closer towards the other as he nodded at her words before replying, “I’ve only heard good things about Ms Espinoza.” Well it certainly wasn’t a lie, but that didn’t mean he had any interest in Opera itself.

“Oh this and that, I tend to flit from one interest to another.” He replied before smoothly returning the question, “And how about you Ms? What do you find to be your passions?”

[danteadkins-blog]

how much have you had?

It had been a rather trying day. One that had been filled with the news of the deaths of two people that he would rather forget; two that had been plaguing his mind ever since he had watched their bodies burn before his very eyes. Two that he had sworn vengeance for; two that he would remake the world for, despite their departure from the world. Glass shattering at his hand as his fingers connected with a series of bottles that stood at the bar, a growl escaped his lips at the thought of his gross miscalculation at sending them out into the war. He had trusted that they would triumph at everything; that they would be able to withstand all. But it looked like that there had been a chink in his plans, one that had allowed an oversight and meant their deaths. He would not make this mistake ever again.

Picking up one of the last remaining bottles upon the table, Dante crushed the neck of the bottle with his fingers as he began to pour himself a heavy glass of bourbon, ignoring the blood that had begun to trickle from his skin. It seemed he had been arrogant with his plans; thinking that he had been invincible at all, and not quite remembering that he at best was still mortal, not even a Saint. Placing the glass down with a large thud upon the bar tabletop, a heavy chuckle began to escape his lips at the fallacy of it all; the way he had imagined that he would never fail in such a way like this. And yet despite this all he would not stop. Lesser men would have been defeated by such an act, but not him.

He would finish his plans; reenacting his revenge upon the two bodies that had been laid out for him, the cadence being death to all those who had dared to stand against him. Pouring himself another glass of bourbon at these notions, he took another large drink from it as he disregarded the sounds of someone entering the bar, remarking coldly with an edge to his tone, “The place is closed, if you didn’t already read the sign.” He was in no mood to deal with his lackeys, subordinates or anyone really. But perhaps a knife to their throat would serve as a better way for them to further understand his words. Turning around with a scowl upon his features and a knife between his fingers, he made it evident that he was not seeking company, and less of all from Ruben Dalgaard as he finally realised who it was.

“How much have you had?” He heard the other ask, as he stepped forward, a growl slipping out as his eyes narrowed. “Do I look like I’m in the mood to talk Dalgaard? Get out of here before I truly find out just how many ways I can cut you up until your immortality slips between your fingers.” He snarled out as he let the knife slip through his fingers and land in the wall behind Ruben, slightly clipping him on the ear as it sank into the wallpaper. 

“The next one will descend in your flesh.”

[r0ttenluck]

date: august 18th location: athos opera availability: closed to @danteadkins

She loved hearing Quinn sing. She knew she should’ve grown used to it by now, but there was something about the anchor’s voice that just made her crave more. She always found herself longing to be like the girl. Yes, she was adored, but it wasn’t because of some talent or ability. She only held people’s interest because of her last name and considerable wealth. Sometimes she wondered what life would be like without all that. Would she and Quinn still be friends? Would people still wish to talk to her, or would they just view her as a nobody that they could just pass on? These questions would never be answered, but she couldn’t help but allow them to run through her mind. 

Usually when she attended the Opera her security staff would buy out the section so she could sit and listen in private. This time however, her wish to listen to her anchor was a last minute request, so they couldn’t find a section that held no people in it. Emilia was fine with that. There were often times in the show where she longed to lean over to someone and gush about how well her friend sounded. She wasn’t someone that shied away from company. She was someone that embraced companionship, and maybe this show would allow her to make a new friend.

She wandered over to the side section she was seated at. She supposed she could’ve gotten seats at the very front, but there was something endearing about the little two person side spot. It was comfortable, a nice coziness that she didn’t feel often enough. She worried that the person that bough the other seat would be scary or someone who didn’t seem to take well to Delacroix, but when she laid her eyes on the man in front of her she felt like those descriptors didn’t apply to him. Tentatively, she slipped into her seat and leaned over to him.

“I see you’re also a fan of the opera. It’s a rather fun past time, don’t you agree?”

[danteadkins-blog]

It was not often that Dante came to find himself at the Opera in Athos, particularly because he had no interest in the singing, nor the acts that would be upon stage. He found it a rather tiresome affair all in all. Yet it was a perfect opportunity to develop his connections, and it seemed that tonight was one that would allow him to develop ones with those of Omerta and Keignan, especially considering the tumultuous times that were to arise. His eyes flickering over the mundanes that surrounded him, he found it rather amusing at how they seemed to marvel over such trivial affairs, with an opera being something of a highlight of an event for themselves. What a pity they had never engaged in the likes of Seraphim and Saints such as him, something much more interesting than some figure singing upon the stage.

Yet as he took his seat, his eyes flickering over the various individuals he had already decided that he would allow Rosalie to approach at a later date, or perhaps another subordinate to scope out the potential, he began to realise how unfortunately seated he was. A side spot; containing only two seats meaning he would have to probably engage in conversation in whoever had reserved the other seat. What a pity he hadn’t sent someone else in his stead, especially when he particularly despised this particular opera, it being rather bothersome in theme, and songs. His eyes flickering towards the nearing figure whose seat seemed to be adjacent to his, a small smirk began to arise upon his lips as he realised who it was.

The little Delacroix princess, one that was rather idealistic with her ideals and could most likely benefit his future plans. “Well I wouldn’t say I’m a complete fan of the opera, but one of my friends encouraged me to see this one; apparently the singer is good.” He smoothly replied, knowing that Emilia would have most likely only come for her friend Quinn.

[farous]

I’m not superstitious, I believe in plenty when there’s reason and evidence to believe. I don’t believe in anything I can’t see. I feel like there’s a fucking axe hanging over my head. I can’t see it, but I believe it.

[danteadkins-blog]

crimsoncrane‌:

It is so, she wanted to ferociously bite back. But she quells that impulse with tightening of her fist. A grip so tight her fingernails were digging into the palms of her hand, forming tiny crescent moons, and she could begin to feel her heartbeat. She loathed this no talk back thing sometimes. Because, fuck, if she didn’t want to give a quick thwack across their heads or, and even more dangerously so, give in to her blood lust. It could be so easy. So pleasurable.

Then he moves closer. He invades her space with that voice of whiskey and sin, lulling her, gently touching her, and her tiny fist unwinds slowly, hesitantly. A jolt of electricity slithers down her spine, making goosebumps erupt all over her arms, her hand not holding her drink falling to her side stiff. Eyes pinning her own, heart pounding, her legs move back on their own, his finger falling away, and everything inside of her rebelling at the thought of being preyed upon. Control. Never let them get too close. If you keep a distance, you keep your control. And yet… She tightens her grasp on her glass and takes another sip, suddenly parched. When she pulls the glass away from her lips this time she has schooled her features to be somewhat incensed. Not enough to make her appear as if she were getting snappy with him. “Because you want nothing less than the best, and she’s the best.” Aside from herself, of course.

Placing her glass back on the desk, she sighs. By his tone of voice, she could hear that he was getting crabby. If she overstepped her so called boundaries for too much longer he would begin to get hostile, and she couldn’t chance that. “Look,” she says, nonplussed, itching to smooth out the collar of his jacket. She does. Keeping a small amount of contact without taking another step back into his space. “I’m not suggesting your average Joe. I’m suggesting Nikita Reena. You know who she is. You know what she has done. Who else could you possibly have in your pocket that could do what she can?” She pauses. The hand that was smoothing out his collar falls flat on his shoulder. An unnerving thought pops into her mind: could he know anyone better? Just how much does he keep locked up in that mind of his? What she wouldn’t do to crack that skull open and see all the secrets seep out like blood. Best not to dwell on that thought.

“I could set up a meeting with her. If you would want that? If not, forget I said anything.” She says the last part as an afterthought. Letting it to be deciphered as a whatever he wants is what she wants type of statement. But, that wasn’t the case at all. She was sure of Nikita. She just wished Dante would be sure of her.

There were so few that he would tolerate to offer advice or suggestions; and all of his subordinates knew of this. So he knew that Rosalie would not have even said aloud the thoughts she held mentally unless this was of value, and for that he granted her silent request in listening; his finger moving to push back a stray curl that had happened to fall before the rest of her features, their close proximity allowing him to regard every change in movement of hers, every slight expression that appeared or disappeared with the words that were exchanged between the pair of them. 

And she wasn’t wrong. Dante only wanted the best; he strove for perfection, demanded it and nothing less was unacceptable. And it was for that his thoughts turned towards Nikita Reena, the anchor that he had met the other night. And whilst he would not deny that her looks would certainly be appealing to any further connection he needed to develop; it was her powers that would assuredly be beneficial for that situation or even perhaps when it came to lackeys whom he thought were not as trustworthy as they so claimed to be. So whilst his expressions continued to display nonchalance; with a tinge of warning for what could happen if she happened to stray the boundaries; to cross the line, he continued to watch the way she animatedly spoke about the Reena girl, knowing that this meant she was of some sort of importance to Rosalie.

Of course there had been others he had in mind when it came to ensuring his victory, but plans could so easily be change — and that was so easily evident with him allowing Rosalie to be by his side. And he could not deny that having the Reena girl entered into the fold would mean he had gained further power; especially when he knew that she had so barely grazed the surface of what her powers could potentially develop to be, Rosalie the evidence of just how far a power could go. “I will consider her in my plans.” He finally replied, as he reached over to finish his drink before reaching over to pour more into his glass and in Rosalie’s as he moved evenly closer to reduce the gap between them, knowing that this would allow her to see just how serious he was when it came to paving his empire; building the world he so sought under his feet.

“You may set up a meeting; but if she should so fail, you know the consequences.” Dante began to warn, as his eyes flashed with the thought of traitors and betrayals. He would not tolerate them from anyone, it was irrespective of the individual. And especially with this case; her fate lay together with Nikita’s, as it would be her job to convince Nikita to join his side, and to partially mould her to become a weapon. After all, it was a chance for his right hand to prove herself, and he knew that she would either rise to the challenge or sink. Time would only tell.

[danteadkins-blog]

it’s nothing. it’s just a bruise.

There was much to do within the developments of Seraphim; especially with the tumultuous time of Keignan and Omerta waging war upon Athos, each leader power hungry for more, to reign supreme. What a pity that none of them would emerge as the real King when he finally stepped away from the shadows and took his rightful place. Yet within the development of his plans; he had sent Rosalie away from his side together with Nikita towards the Palace to make sure that any further occurrences would not happen under the wraps without his knowing; especially with the growing paranoia arising from the pair of Jean-Pierre and his dearest sister Belle. What a pity that neither of them nor the little redhead who held electricity in the palm of her hand would survive at the end of this day. 

His fingers curled around the balcony railing, a small smirk began to appear upon his lips and develop upon his features as he regarded the Saints that stood before him, each having chosen his side as he was to venture forth to create a world of his making, of his own desire at his feet. Nodding at one of his lieutenants to continue to train up his soldiers, he finally stepped away to move towards another of his lackeys as he raised an eyebrow at the shaking figure that had begun to approach him, no doubt of news sent by his two women of news from Athos. “Tell me what you know.” He commanded, a single uttering with a raised eyebrow as he awaited the account from the trembling figure that stood there; the words barely making it out of his lips.

Yet the moment the words were revealed, the glass that had originally be clutched between his hands immediately shattered, as his eyes darkened at the thought. His Rosalie had been harmed in the attacks from the Omertans; her body having tried to shield Nikita from the attacks. A growl escaping his lips, he let the pieces of glass scatter to the floor as he instantly moved towards transporting himself to the Medical Wing where he knew that she would have gone in order to be healed; and would be by his side from then on. They would all pay; no one was to touch what was deemed his, and the Omertans had made a grave mistake the day they had decided to mistakenly do so. 

Rushing to the room that held the two people that he perhaps would give an extra thought to, he watched the way the girls clutched upon each other; pained expressions upon their features. This would not do. “маленькая роза what have you gotten yourself into?” He rumbled, immediately shutting the door as he gazed at her wounds, ones that could have potentially been fatal if she hadn’t moved at the last second; barely grazing her heart. Never again would either of them leave his side. “It’s nothing, it’s just a bruise.” She joked, as he brushed forward for his knuckles to touch the pair as he began to grip their hold; his fingers tightening upon their own. 

A scowl permanently etched upon his lips, he began to utter in a dark rumble, “They will pay for this all. They will regret the moment they dared to lay a hand on either of you.”

[danteadkins-blog]

crimsoncrane‌:

His question pierces the silence between them like bullets. Hovering in the air between them. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, only her fingers flexed and tightened their hold on the arm of his chair. She wouldn’t repeat herself. She knew what she said, what she wanted, and he had heard her word for word. She was willing to position herself closer to Seraphim and him instead of the possible chance at a gilded crown. She was willing to spy for him fully. But, well, who wouldn’t trade a crown for godhood? It was a deal worth striking. For now.

Everything’s hushed. He rises. Her fingers flex involuntarily, again. He towers her. And she —stills. Just stills. Listening to the sound of her own breathing as she refuses to break eye contact with him, stretching her neck further to look fearless rather than cower under his scrutiny. She would not avert her eyes or bow her head to any. She knew what she was worth, and she’d be damned if she never got him to admit that she was a necessity in his ranks. She knew she was. So, when he finally commands her to be here, possibly at his side, she doesn’t hide the moderately pleased glimmer in her eyes or the way the corners of her lips twitch upward. She gave an inch. He gave an inch in return. Whatever this was between this might not be so hopeless after all in terms of meeting her own goals. “Then that is what I’ll do,” she echoes, gladdened.

And in that dim light, his eyes on her, trapping her, she steps closer into the impossibly charged space between them.

Her throat locked, her breath quickened, her hand moves forward to reach out. Not to touch him, but to seemingly glide past his hip and pick up the glass he had poured seconds earlier for her. She pulls her hand back and brings the glass to her lips with a quick sip, never breaking eye contact with him. She speaks up while the iron is still hot then. “I have a second proposition.” She was testing her luck, she knew it. Dante was a strong willed man who had definitive plans of his own. But, she was just as stubborn as he was strong. She needed to put this thought out on the table, too. If not for herself, then for the interest of her friend. “If I’m here, you’re still going to need someone there.” She kept her voice as firm as it could be while her insides convulsed. “I know someone just as connected who might be interested. She isn’t a liability like all the other little shits you got moseying about around here. She’s good.”  If you could entice a king. You could entice anyone.

There were so few that Dante would tolerate to question or to offer further insight into his plans; for the next steps into carving the new future of Athos as it bent its feet to its new ruler. And perhaps he could have easily dissuaded her arguments, easily manipulated her to be content with the position he sought for her to have. Yet he knew that Rosalie knew the dangers of what she could potentially offer, that with any false step he could have discarded her, albeit there being pity at the loss of potential. 

But he knew she had been serious at the offer, especially as he began to fully regard her, the way she held herself beneath his gaze; the way she seemed to tighten — almost as if she refused to recoil, and for that he was pleased. He had not moulded her to become just another lackey. He knew the potential he had in Rosalie, and he had taken time to create a dangerous girl, one that held such promise with her gifts; such deadly abilities. So as he finally granted acceptance to her request, he watched bemusedly at the slight twitches of her content — noting down every change in expression for something later. There were certainly dangers in allowing her further knowledge behind what lay beneath the plans, what was concealed to others but him, but it allowed him to also test her. To see her allegiances, to watch her and see if he could truly begin to allow her to be at his side.

Tilting his head to continue to watch every minute continued reaction of Rosalie’s, a small smirk began to appear upon his lips at the close proximity between the pair of them. For any others that could have mistakenly seen them; they would have been regarded as lovers, ones who were infatuated with one another, when that was anything but the truth. His gaze never leaving hers, he began to pour himself yet another drink as he raised an eyebrow as she began to offer a further proposal to the one she had initially given, bemused that she had thought that now was an opportunity to continue to offer other proposition. “Is that so?” He asked, his voice dangerously low as he took a further step to lessen the distance between the pair of them, their bodies almost touching as he reached out a finger to tilt her head to further gape at him as he continued, “And what makes you think that she will be better than who I have planned to keep me appraised of the situation?”

Whilst his tone had reached dangerous depths, warning Rosalie of the potential peril she risked at further suggestions, he had an inkling of an idea of who exactly she was going to suggest; and was awaiting her explanation on why exactly Nikita Reena would be the exact person to allow into the fold.

[rubendalgaard-deactivated202006]

sofiadelacroix‌:

twopercent‌:

miscellaneous angst starters.

when were you going to tell me?

you can’t keep doing this to yourself.

that’s…a lot of blood.

can you walk?

please don’t lie to me.

you were supposed to leave.

i’m not going anywhere without you.

shh, it’s okay. it was just a dream.

there was nothing more you could have done.

it wasn’t your fault.

this is all my fault.

you aren’t acting like yourself.

i’m never going to let [her/him/them] hurt you again.

you’re hurting me.

don’t ever do that again.

go to hell.

please don’t cry.

you have to stay awake.

i wish i could take the pain away.

you could have died.

hey – stay with me.

it’ll be over soon.

did you ever love me?

i’m sorry. i can’t do this anymore.

things won’t always hurt this bad.

you passed out.

how much have you had?

i’m okay. it’s all fine.

it’s not okay! you’re not fine!

let me get you something for the pain.

it’s nothing. it’s just a bruise.

it’s clearly not nothing.

have you been to the doctor?

i didn’t mean the things i said.

i thought we meant something.

people who are okay don’t act like this.

you don’t have to go through this by yourself.

i don’t want you to be alone.

please don’t regret me.

i heard you crying.

you need to get some rest.

when was the last time you ate something?

i’m worried about you.

did you have another nightmare?

[name], there’s nobody there.

i want to be happy but i don’t think i deserve it.

please talk to me.

why are you mad at me?

alcohol isn’t going to solve your problems.

don’t leave me.

did you do this to yourself?

it’s breaking my heart to see you like this.

tell me what’s wrong.

tell me how to make it better.

why don’t you care?

get the hell away from me.

please don’t do this.

i can’t believe that you lied to me.

just…stay for the night.

you obviously can’t be trusted to take care of yourself, so let me do it for you.

you can’t die. i won’t let you.

just hang on, okay?

hold my hand if you need to.

i’m sorry.

why do you have a gun?

don’t panic.

just breathe.

you’re bleeding.

i’m trying to stop the bleeding.

you’ve been crying, i can tell.

you should have told me sooner.

i wanted to tell you in person.

a phone call would’ve been nice.

i hate you.

i love you.

[danteadkins-blog]

crimsoncrane‌:

Six hundreds seconds. Ten minutes. That is how long she dwells in his space alone, waiting. As she waits, she tugs the chain of a lamp to bathe the windowless room in light. The walls were painted a warm, creamy beige, the furniture a deep, dark mahogany, and red was splattered all over. It looked cozy, nothing like the expected office of a man who struck fear to the very core of his enemies, and she couldn’t help the twitch of amusement she had each time she was here. He certainly knows how to purvey comfort in a space where he generally plots the demise of others. Cute, she thinks. But she doesn’t soften. She couldn’t afford to look weak when she was demanding answers, and quick. She already grew more irritated by the three hundredth second, too, considering she needed to return to the castle to Henry.  

So when he walks in, she can only cross her arms at him from where she leans against his desk and scowl at the door over his shoulder. He says that little nickname of his, and her scowl deepens. She couldn’t stand when he looked at her like something fragile, she would rather bleed out in front of him than have him send her away from the battlefront to be patched up. And now he was sending her back off to the castle. She would wilt in that place. Everyday is spent waiting for the war to come knocking on the castle doors, but it never does. Instead she is left lounging on cushioned chairs watching her gilded warrior, listening to minute guests chirping away about palace gossip, and munching on the many delights made in the kitchens. The most action that castle has seen is one quick, late night regicide. Probably the only quickie King Gaspard wasn’t delighted for in his bed. Regardless, she would swell twice in size if she didn’t carve out so much time to sneak away to Seraphim every chance she got.

“Dante.” His name. Not boss, or a closely kept nickname she had for him. She was sure he wouldn’t like the name she called him in her head. And she certainly wasn’t up to the idea of calling anyone her boss. Not even after months of servitude. So she stuck to something neutral, something rarely spoken aloud: his name. “I can do that, of course. But…” She heaves a sigh and straightens from her spot at the sharp edge of the desk to wander behind it and closer towards the right side of his chair, her hand curling around its arm. “Don’t you need me here, too?” She murmured softly, knowing she had his full attention. The weight of the words echoed in the silence between them for long minutes. She was offering to be with him instead of Henry. To protect him while only god knows, only Dante himself, what awaits Athos. Maybe if she was here for him she would actually draw blood. Maybe she would learn exactly who was charging Athos, and why he appeared so calm about it.

There were many faithful soldiers that Dante held in his sphere; some of importance, and others that consisted of little significance at all. But when it came to a certain rose, one that had been moulded and guided by his hand to become the sharp knife she had blossomed to become, there was no doubting the potential she held to become even more. It was only the question of letting her do so, to let her develop further; or to let her sit and wait for another moment. His eyes darkening the moment he set foot in his study, he moved towards grasping another bottle of alcohol to pour both of them a glass before he knew that she would speak her mind, desiring to know more that lay behind his plans; beneath the facade of his. And whilst he could so easily let her see it, perhaps it was the question of whether he trusted her enough to be at that position.

Pushing one towards the girl who had once been so soft and weak; now with the ability to make men cower before her, he tilted his head to watch her every movement. Every scowl that appeared upon her face. Every little fluctuation and development upon her lips, memorising it in a way that will be able to be noted down in his records later. And whilst he now could easily predict her movements and actions, it interested him the way she so hesitantly offered another solution. Perhaps she was ready for more. To see more of the underworld Pit that he had created; the alliances he had so readily offered for little or nothing in exchange because people knew the value of having him as an ally. Taking a seat to cross his legs and to continue to deeply gaze at the individual in front of him, he allowed for no expressions to change as she walked over to offer another suggestion.

The fact that she had utilised his first name; one that she so rarely ever did, coupled together with the physical connection of a touch made him regard her more cautiously, wondering if perhaps he should allow her as she so pleaded. To do so would be inviting more trust into a woman that he had only afforded so little at that time. But perhaps he would let her hunger for knowledge be satiated, if only a minute amount. “Is that what you’re offering?” He replied finally after a long lull of silence, allowing for her words to truly sink in before he decided to stand, his position allowing him to look into her eyes, to judge what he saw lay beneath his Rose. “Then you will stay here then, within the shadows and perhaps by my side over these next few days.” To witness the landscape being paved for a new world; one under his making.

[bpdvoid]

a bad person? who, me? that would be correct,

[danteadkins-blog]

crimsoncrane‌:

She’s caught on a breath. Biting her tongue. Holding back the small ounce of displeasure at his little tidbit of information. She was growing tired of being fed scraps as if she were his prized mutt, but that was a chat for another day. Today she has to remember to keep her grasp on his thigh neutral, and put thoughts of Henry far behind. Though, it could be useful to tell him of newly forming alliances right under Athos’ nose. Could be. But, she won’t. Maybe on another day, if Dante wills it or she grows a little too tired of her gods antics.

Pulling back, slowly, her eyelids droop halfway as she stares at his deliciously curved mouth, sliding her hand up his thigh for good measure. As her hand moves, she swears she can feel the blood pumping a little faster beneath her touch. But, she chalks it up to a trick of her own mind and fully retracts her hand while getting up from her spot. Not without a suggestive wink, however, and a nod to his office saying, “You can ring my bell back there.” It would be enough to convince any peepers enjoying the show that she was back for a quick rendezvous in his office. A lie everyone so easily gobbled up while she made no attempts to squash it. Not when it worked to her advantaged and kept her alliance to Seraphim on a more need to know basis. And right now, she needed to know more.

Slipping away from their shared spot at a table, she walks with ease over towards the door of his office. People moved out of her way instead of the other way around since her presence became noted more around here, and often not far from Dante’s side. Then, with one quick glance back at him as if still seeking permission to enter his space, she turned the doorknob and went in, leaving the door slightly cracked. She knew he would join her when he willed it. But, for now, she would make herself comfortable on the corner of her desk, leaning into it while avoiding letting her eyes wander too much. It is unlikely for him to let anything simply be lying around, but she couldn’t help a glance every now and then as she waited. Waited for a further explanation or a plan of action for her in all of this insanity.

Dante knew easily that with the simple appearance or Rosalie emerging beside his side, it would cause the others that milled and flocked about them to become intrigued and interested in their conversation; assuming that said exchange would allow for information to be so easily leaked before their eyes and ears. And whilst he may have afforded a minute amount of trust to the girl that sat before him, the same could not be said for many of the individuals that surrounded their very position. It was why he allowed for her flirtatious gestures to continue, for their facade to be maintained. A small smirk beginning to appear upon his lips at her continued actions, he moved his own hand to firmly grasp upon her hip joint, massaging it lightly to appear as intimate lovers as he remarked in seeming agreement, “Perhaps I can.”

His smirk widening as he watched Rosalie flaunt her suggestion for their rendezvous before departing from her seat, he began to finish his drink that lay before him, nursing it in his fingers to swirl the liquid around before finally finishing the last few drops that remained. He knew he need not hurry to his office, knowing there was nothing that she would have been able to take advantage of in his absence, but he knew it was most likely better as to not allow for his little Rose to be waiting for too long. Briskly standing up to move towards his office, his eyes flickered over the rest of the curious individuals that averted and cowed their gaze as he glanced towards them; amusement at their intimidation of him arising before finally arriving at the place he intended.

His fingers pushing open the wooden frame to glance at the girl before him, he stalked forward a few steps, almost as if a predator to those that gazed at the back of his figure; before finally pressing the door closed. “Here there’ll be no inquisitive nor prying ears.” He stated, as if in explanation for his vague information that he had previously revealed to Rosalie; almost as if he held her in higher confidence than she would have expected considering his preceding words. “In these next few days my маленькая роза I’ll need you to be my eyes and ears at the palace, especially with these Omertans and Keigans surrounding Athos and the palace.”

[danteadkins-blog]

lucian-delacroix‌:

The shine to the red pill in Lucian’s hand was beguiling under LED lights. It shone of promise, of power and control. Was Lucian ready for it? Drugs and alcohol were far from strangers to the rebel prince, yet there remained a consistent hesitance in Sinners; a kind of drug like no other.

“…they’re okay for Mundanes to take, right?” Lucian asked, fully knowing that a Sinner’s target audience was a Saint. Thinking back to Emilia, however, he had to ask to make sure that he didn’t readily agree to her ingesting poison into her system.

“…I’ve heard they were pretty strong…” Lucian commented hesitantly, mild doubt in his words.

Dante’s eyes began to glint as he watched the hesitation in the other’s figure. He could sense their wavering and reluctance to take hold of the opportunity that lay before them, and he was nothing if not bemused by the situation that lay before him. Oh if only his dearest eldest sister could have witnessed this scene, he was sure she would have not been pleased. “Of course, perfectly harmless.” He reassured as he stepped towards the other as if in confidence, knowing that if he assuaged Lucian’s concerns that he would be more likely to encourage him to take the pill. “What you have before you is not as strong as the others, it depends on the dosage.”

[danteadkins-blog]

adorxtion‌:

Nikita shortly closed her eyes as she made her way through the crowd around the entrance. The sheer volume of the voices around her in addition to the sounds of the fighting and the music was the only thing that was capable of drowning out her thoughts these days. Ever since Rosie had told her about this place, about the Seraphim, Niki had been intrigued with them. Not only because the amount of power that assembled here every single night but also because it was so different from her own world, a world in which she had so suddenly, so abruptly lost her place. Here everything was loud, violent and dirty and while she couldn’t say that she particularly liked that, it still felt like the right place to be.

Whenever she came here she did her best to look as little like herself as possible, because even though things were changing at the palace she did not want there to be gossip about the recently deceased King’s mistress drinking away her sorrows in the underworld, potentially building new alliances. No, rumors like that would do only harm. Making her way to the bar, she was just about to sit down and order when her plans for the night were interrupted. 

He definitely knew his voice but before she let her gaze travel to actually meet his, she wasn’t sure who he was. They hadn’t crossed path more than once or twice ever since Rosalie had made the initial introduction but he was easy to recognize. Leaning her head to one side she watched him for a second, before nodding. “If you insist.” Following him to the crowd towards his private section she waited a moment before taking a seat across from him. “So is this how you spend all of your nights?” She asked, taking one of the glasses for herself and looking at him for a reply. 

The moment the eldest Reena had entered, he had noticed her. Dante so seldom missed figures that were within the Pits; but she was rather of an unusual visitor. One that had never ventured into the depths of Seraphim till Rosie’s invitation, or more specifically the King’s death. And whilst most would have scoffed at the girl, he knew how important connections were, and more specifically knew that with her position she would have gained information that could benefit him. It was why his gaze trailed after her as he watched afar from the balcony; the way others would gape and peer at the smallest glimpses of the girl; before she began to approach a pathway near him.

Not one to refute an opportunity, he began to venture towards the girl, his fingers tightening around one of the nearest bottles of bourbon as he flickered his gaze over Nikita. Whilst he had not had an in depth conversation with the other before, the barest of introductions had allowed for him to command for her to join him at his own private sector, away from the prying and inquisitive individuals that milled about because of his actions. Beckoning for her to follow him with the slightest inclination of his head as a gesture, he took a seat down at their exclusive table as he began to pour the bourbon into both glasses, pushing one towards her as he began to reply, “Most — especially since this is my establishment. But there are some spelt elsewhere. Tell me Ms Reena; what brings you down here to the Pit?” Perhaps she had come to embrace her darker nature, like so many of her fellow Saints and mundanes.

[danteadkins-blog]

lucian-delacroix‌:

At the redirect, Lucian looked back down hesitantly at the pill that rested in his own palm. There was a reason behind his own reluctance of taking the Sinner due to the fear of potentially exposing himself at Seraphim. The thought of his powers brimming just below his skin, ready to explode at any time already made him nervous, let alone the thought of accidentally bending metal in front of everyone who came tonight.

“No, I don’t need them…” Lucian said, insinuating that he wasn’t a Saint - but more truthfully, not ready to accept that he was a Saint. 

“I prefer my alcohol, to be honest.” Lucian laughed softly, fidgeting underneath the man’s gaze as he took a swig from the beer in his other hand.

There was rather bemusing to Dante when it came to encouraging others to take hold of their deepest desire, to embrace their darker nature. And with the youngest Delacroix within his grasp, unsure of his next move, he had quite the opportunity within his fingertips. Raising an eyebrow at the uncertainty, yet knowing the truth that the boy may have been hesitant to admit. After all, he hadn’t watched the Saints that drifted into his Pit for nothing; having files upon files resting in a secure location of each and every different individual. A small smirk remaining upon his features at the reply he remarked, “Then what’s the harm? They are bound to have little effect with just one anyway.” Little did Lucian know the truth, but he wasn’t about to enlighten him of that particular fact anytime soon. 

[danteadkins-blog]

crimsoncrane‌:

There it is. That easy, well-reasoned, whiskey-filled voice that made itself known above all others in the room. It beckoned her, and she did not resist it. She might never resist its call. It enticed something hideous, something twisted, in the pit of her stomach. Tonight she cannot heed its call, however. Tonight is for the war that rages beyond these flimsy walls. “You,” she says, claiming a spot beside him as if the spot belonged to her, as if she belonged there at his side. And while she holds it well sometimes, today she can’t help being a little mischievous. She lets a hand rest on his thigh without hesitation, the lightest of pressure placed, as she leans close to him, smelling the whiskey on his breath. If they were going to talk business, she mine as well put on a show for any who dared to inch a little too close. They couldn’t have just anybody hearing what she had to say. But, who was she to stop any wandering eyes from drawing their own conclusion from the way her body arched towards him as she whispered near his ear. “Ring any bells tonight?”

His smouldering gaze began to darken at the sight before him, his wolf adorned in sheep’s clothing, the little flower with thorns that pricked at the slightest touch. And whilst he might have moulded her to become the creature she is, she certainly had grown to become her own, and did it ever make him feel something to pride as he watched her. Yet as she played the opening move to their game tonight, he began to tilt his head to briefly survey their surroundings before allowing her to place her hand to touch his own thigh. And whilst the pair may have looked as intimate as a pair of lovers; infatuated with one another, they both truly knew the truth. “Bells? You mistake me маленькая роза for being a bell ringer. But I have heard those pesky little sirens that have been ringing from Athos. I’m sure anyone could. And whilst I might not have caused them, I certainly may have encouraged these next few steps to occur from pieces upon the board.” He replied, allowing an ounce of truth to be revealed to one of his closest subordinates; granting her just enough information to satiate her curiosity, her interest in his moves.

[crimsoncrane-deactivated2019071]

DATE: August 28th, 12:30 pm LOCATION: The Seraphim Pit AVAILABILITY: Open To All

The day was like a dreamlike mingle of past and present: a childhood unease of what those sirens signified on the horizon, grievously mixed with a continual, ugly wantonness in her for a slaughter. It could be nice, she thinks, to see men sneer with bloody, chapped lips and viciously shout for a time before Athos’ kings have them retaliate. Have her retaliate. Henry was undoubtedly already in a frenzied pace about his war room once he heard the thunderous toll of the bell. She would get there soon. For now, she was in search of another king. To see what hand god himself had in this play. So while fist flew in intentional strikes, and a mary sue took another gulp of her drink, she walked in slow, meticulous strides about the pit. She gives her attention to no one and everyone, feigning a level of openness. 

[danteadkins-blog]

The puppetmaster with his strings playing his little puppets to dance according to his tune. And had he been rather successful as of late; especially with the keen mundanes seeking to sponsor the Sinners after seeing its effects upon Saints. And whilst perhaps many feared the impending war that was about to emerge, he was ready. For his soldiers to conquer and destroy all those who lay in his path until he emerged as the ultimate victor; ready for him to take his throne. Those little fools. His eyes noticing a certain brunette that lay in the midst of the chaos of the Pit, his smirk began to widen as he picked up his own drink to sit adjacent to his Rose as he remarked, “Tell me маленькая роза, what brings you here?”

[danteadkins-blog]

date: august 14th, 1:03am. location: the seraphim pit. who: dante adkins and anyone.

He watched and surveyed those who entered his dominion. The hunters that would prey upon one other as they entered the Pit, bloodthirsty to win yet another fight. The meek that were more there for a wild time; drawn in by the thrill of the underworld, to be in a place that beckoned forth those to encroach upon their darker natures. A bottle of whiskey between his fingers, he briefly glanced at the individual that was closest to him as he uttered, “Come have a drink.” And whilst that might have seemed like an invitation, the invisible command lay beneath his words, as he moved towards his section to take a seat, his darkened eyes gazing at the one who stood before him.