This Changes Nothing

I consider myself an even tempered man. It takes a lot to get under my skin, but congratulations; you just won the solid-gold kewpie doll. [ Member of DWRP. Tracking 'diplomacyhasfailedus'. ]

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

.

[heraldhand]

Tin Soldiers || Leah && Rourke

[heraldhand]

But the queen did not use harsh, stinging words and furious blows to prove a point. Such was the world of uncouth men and women who lacked the grace and conviction to pull strings behind the curtains. Leah was subtle, delicate; utterly unlike the brute strength Rourke used to get his way. Never did she barge in, never did she rage and rant. No, she was soft, yet firm; appearing to bend when her spine was made of unyielding steel.

     ”No, I do not. A queen must be a steadfast beacon to her people.” Slender fingers scooped up the commander’s papers, quickly and deftly curling the wad into a neat scroll that was inserted into her sleeve. Leah had already gathered that the man was a loose cannon, someone she would have to keep under thumb at all times. His fire would not touch her ice, she would not break.  Ah, but she did not care. Men could die and scatter like leaves in the wind; blown across countries and to her door like the one before her. But she herself never had to soil her hands with blood. If a man did while defending his country, then so be it. It was a messy business, yet a strong queen only wept when the country was lost. Glancing down at the the bony finger, Leah blinked before casting her cool gaze on the hatchet face before her, meeting his hard eyes unflinchingly. She simply stared, refusing blinking or looking away. “Indeed.” She said simply, words clipped and curt. “Loyalty is a truly rare luxury.” Her eyes narrowed after a pause which dragged by like the many years she had waited to see her daughter again. Yes, how did she treat those who were paid to be loyal to her and Germany? Her thin lips hardened into a thin line as the gears of her mind whirred, only to part a heartbeat later. "I pay them well. A rich man is a content man, a content man has no qualms with the crown." A content man became too drunk and fat to complain. But a disloyal man…              ”Disloyalty will merit a… different reward.”

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

Commander Lyle Tiberius Rourke amounted her mere presence to diplomacy. A woman king proved far more apt than a man for it was the latter who craved war and destruction. Though women, too, could desire demise, they had a certain life -- a vitality and tendency to rebuild from the ashes, akin to a magnificent phoenix.

"A beacon of hope. Has a nice ring to it, your highness."

A spark lingered in his obsidian gaze, his smile thinning just as the shadows on the walls did.

"--Unless... He chooses to sell the crown. Sounds like you know all about that, though."

Calloused digit tapped his temple, similar to a cat's tail swaying whilst observing its prey, a mouse resting in the corner. He knew all about selfishness, spoke of desire in volumes; he wove his rational from experience.

A steady exhale came as his timely response. Hands gripped the arms of the chair before making his ascent.

"Mind showing me your troops?"

Promise in the guise of ice. Even if the cold were to nip his fingers, he would seize a hold until it melted like all good things.

[james-hook-blog-blog]

Sinless

[james-hook-blog-blog]

Deep down Hook loathed himself for agreeing but deep down, he was relieved. Whether or not this man was as mad as he was insane was still a curiosity that he would have to work out later. All he had to worry about now was whether or not this man would in the future turn turncloak. 

Without hesitating to show a little trust, even if it was false, shook Rourke’s hand. ”I do not mind,” he answered, “So long as this doesn’t become permanent. I am a busy man and do have obligations to attend to soon,” 

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

All men had the power to deceive. Such was a part of their nature. Beneath the sheepskin, Commander Lyle Tiberius Rourke was a wolf and his teeth would inevitably sink into his pray for his bite possessed the jaws of life -- enough to cripple and intimidate any foe.

He laughed, grinning proudly, thoroughly pleased by himself. His spine straightened and he seemed to grow taller, akin to a shadow consuming flatlands come sunset.

"You and I will get along just fine," he reassured the captain. He went so far as to clamp a hand down upon Hook's shoulder, fingers curling loosely.

[heraldhand]

Tin Soldiers || Leah && Rourke

[heraldhand]

No, one from the West - especially someone from across the ocean - would have heard of the bloody, gruelling battle. Western Europe had jabbered on for a few months, but the East never forgot, nor did it forgive its losses. The ground had been baptised in blood that day, never to recover from the trauma it had received. Leah had hated to hear the weeping and waling of women and children who had lost fathers, sons and brothers - war was senseless, though it had proved to be a necessary evil.

"They died nobly.” The phrase passed through her lips with little conviction or care, for the sallow-faced woman simply could not muster up any admiration for those who charged into battle as though it were a story or a glorious painting. It was cruel, it was bloody; and while soldiers changed and captains died, the monarchs remained as constant figureheads in a sea of turmoil. Thin, colourless lips pressed together as she regarded him, still lounging in the chair as though it were a throne. She trusted no one, and the man’s confidence was unnerving. Unlike the hordes of others, he did not grovel; nor did he catch her skirts as she waltzed into the throne room, claiming to touch the divine. ”Signor, though I would very much like to think that there is true loyalty, I believe it belongs to the highest bidder. A man has to eat, must support his family… Even a patriot would switch sides if the pay was better than what he received from his Lord and master, do you not agree?”

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

A history of trouble with authority stuck with Commander Rourke to this very day. As a youth, he questioned those of higher rank. Often times, he earned a glare or a fist, but he learned how to fight back -- to claw his way up onto the pedestal which he stood on today.

"You never waver," he commented after a moment of silence.

A fist had been pressed to his lips, sliding lower still until reddened knuckled tickled his chin. His jaw crooked at an awkward, little angle and his lips smoothed out, the grin wiped from his face. Now, her composure impressed him. She seemed to be sculpted from ice and he wondered, how soon would it be until she melts?

Did they die nobly or is that what you tell yourself?

He felt indifferent to the cause. The battle was a part of the past and was a petty war, which he had no influence on.

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

They all coped, in one form or the other. Rourke's preferred method, of course, was to actively better himself -- to reach the greatest human potential that he could possibly muster.

Though his means were rather wicked.

"Right you are. What you just said," he mumbled all whilst wagging a finger. "That's the most important thing. Man's gonna switch sides spells out betrayal. Always gotta assume that someone'll cross you and when they do, it won't be pretty. They'll pay a heavy price."

Words from a hypocrite.

"So, lemme ask you this: how do you treat a man who is supposedly loyal to your country, but will betray you at the drop of a hat? That is the basis for all soldiers."

Engaged in a game of words, she had his full, undivided attention.

[ironicwave]

"Mercenary"? I prefer the term "adventure capitalist".

Commander Rourke. “Atlantis” (via chains-of-a-monstermind)

[james-hook-blog-blog]

Sinless

[james-hook-blog-blog]

Hook looked away from Rourke not entirely positive for once as to what to do. But he was definitely feeling defeat for now sinking in, which was not putting him in better spirits about working with some unstable being. 

"So be it, Rourke," Hook turned his gaze back up to the man, "a partnership to earn you a few pretty pennies." if even one hair rose on Hook’s neck, he would easily cut loose from this man and take the chance of being seriously injured or worse. 

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

Associating oneself with the infamous Captain Hook felt more like pulling teeth above all else. As time ticked on by, Rourke's patience wore thin. A little twitch of his lips further questioned his stability.

C'mon. Make your move.

And his mood instantly brightened upon hearing such dazzling compliant. A wicked grin seized a hold of his mouth, laughter lines carved deep into his skin. "Wonderful," he breathed out, offering a calloused hand to shake as a sealed deal. "I assure you that you'll earn much more than a few pennies."

[accursedlight]

Quality Time | Helga & Rourke (Modern AU)

[accursedlight]

Helga withdrew her fingers from his own slowly, letting her nails graze over his rough skin. She relished every victory, no matter the size of the battlefield. “I like to be prepared for any eventuality,” she stated practically with a tipped-up chin, “whether it’s Dante’s hellfire or someone else’s.” Fallen angels, demon spawn, even the Prince of Darkness himself probably wouldn’t faze her. There have been many people that have came and went in her life far more vile than anything Hell could produce.

Breaking her and Rourke’s eye contact, Helga looked over his shoulder and put on a smile for the waitress to wave her over. “Believe me, if there was anything common about you, darling, I wouldn’t tolerate you metaphorically clinging to my ankles as well as I do.”

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

Her touch felt as cold as ice, keeping him paralyzed on the spot. The prick of her nails left a mark in the aftermath, ragged lines that would heal given a day or two. She won this round, but would he be the victor in the next?

A bark of a laugh consumed him, so hearty that he had to lean forward to catch his breath. Calloused finger brushed across his face to rub away the trace of a tear, simply a cognitive reflex.

"Pride yourself on survival, don't you?"

I taught you well.

He sounded sure of himself, pride and avarice his wicked demise. With an elbow propped on the table, his fingers curled into a loose fist that supported his defined jawline.

"You decide where we're headed next?"

[heraldhand]

Tin Soldiers || Leah && Rourke

[heraldhand]

"Warns."

The battle had been a rather messy one, but all were. The queen found war so utterly senseless and Godless; for violence was a sin, though many would call it a necessary one. But the carnage had surprised even the Italian who had seen many a street brawl go awry. She would remain impassive to his fire, she would remain righteous while he wallowed in the corrupt hole he had dug himself. Even if she could not see that yet, her morale was set in stone. Biting her lower lip, the queen’s murky eyes swept over Rourke, trying to place him. He was obviously not part of the brainless, instinctive mass that most men seemed to be part of; but was a distinct, powerful entity. Certainly observant, certainly dangerous. Eyebrows raised at the next statement, and she nodded, rising from her chair smoothly and with all the regality one would expect from a blue-blooded woman. Though not born to be a queen, the position suited her. "If you deem in necessary. I assure you that the men are quite… up to snuff, as it were. But they are loyal to the crown." Curling her lips into the barest trace of a smirk, she gestured to the door, a breath heaving her chest slightly. She wanted to make it clear that all, save the King, answered to her.

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

Warns, Warns, Warns... Doesn't ring a bell.

An idle finger tapped against his cheek, pushing into skin until flesh hollowed out and his sunken cheekbones stood out. Haggard sighs breezed past his lips. While his knowledge about Warns was limited, he could certainly pretend otherwise. He prided himself on this art, as it worked many times in the past.

He was a panther on the prowl, one who sought to become king of the jungle. With his eyes on the prize, anyone who threatened to stand in his way would surely fall.

"They must have fought nobly," he remarked, an inkling of respect in the way he said it.

As a military man, he knew all the dangers that pertained to the battle. War corrupted and crippled dozens, thousands, perhaps millions.

"Loyalty is an impressive trait. A remarkable feat, really. Gets the crown even farther, you know. To have undying loyalty is to have many lives at your disposal. How's that gotta feel, I wonder?"

Head tilted slightly, he observed in silence, his smile a faint one.

Predatory, nonetheless.

[james-hook-blog-blog]

Sinless

[james-hook-blog-blog]

Hook bristled at the idea of partnering up with this man who seemed to him as if he was borderline crazy. And Rourke hadn’t said yet what he wanted, which made Hook all the less likely to agree. But his crew … what if this man was after one of them? He was back to where he was mentally … calculating and weighing the risks. 

One false vibe from this coy hunter and Hook would run him though. Not one trace of Rourke to Hook seemed stable and that did concern him. Not that he wanted to help him, but he did feel compelled to put him out of his misery soon.

"Perhaps," Hook answered his voice holding firm, "But it of course you still must be itching to spill out whatever it is you want." doing one thing for another and vise versa never seemed to play in anyone’s favor these days and Hook knew that this would be one of those cases. He didn’t know how but deep down he felt justified in this.

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

Crazy, perhaps, was one way of putting it. He was a meticulous man, especially when it came to plotting the demise of other. True, his methods were a little uncouth, but such strategic planning got the job done.

Rourke could care less about the captain's opinions. In the long run, one man's thoughts amounted to an empire of dust -- absolute nothingness in comparison to the grandeur the commander sought after.

Stability was a ruse, his mind as tumultuous as the sea. Parched, he wet his lips. Idle fingers curled slightly.

"I seek to gain from this partnership," he specified. "Money. Dinero. Cold, hard cash." Thumb and forefinger rubbed together. "And if fame comes along for the ride? Even better."

He could play the role of equals quite well until he planted the fatal dagger into one's back.

"It wouldn't kill you."

[heraldhand]

Tin Soldiers || Leah && Rourke

[heraldhand]

The clash of ideals was painfully apparent. Leah had been raised to obey and serve, to respect and fear those above her. The way Rourke had challenged the ordained queen had certainly set off alarum bells in her head, though they were pushed aside by the stubborn, missionary-esque queen who believed she would be able to take care of Rourke’s subordinate spirit. She put far too much faith in the mysteries of man, sang too many praises to the Lord.

Lips pursed slightly at the contrite position, as though wishing she could pick apart his thoughts and find any semblance of sincerity there. If the Lord had chosen to bless her with such a gift, Leah would have made use of it. The man before her seemed as slippery as a snake, and to step on him or allow him to slip by would prove disastrous.  "The old commander?" Raising an eyebrow, Leah tilted her head almost imperceptibly, the fluttering of her wimple the only true indicator that she had moved at all. "—He died in battle."  What an odd question. Lacing her fingers together, the queen allowed Rourke to puff out his chest and sing his own praises like the sweetest of songbirds, forcing her own lips to stay stoic, merely nodding in agreement. “I can see that you are more than able, there is no need to reassure me.” Breathing deeply, the queen leaned back into her stiff chair, flexing the fingers that cracked and popped with age. "The papers I have are sufficient for now. If I need more, I will certainly let you know."

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

"Which battle?"

One question answered, but another arose. As curious as a cat, he required more information to go off of. With a quirk of his lips, he observed her fair features, a natural diplomat. Your ice suits you. What will it take for you to melt?

Though he sat rigid in his chair, Rourke succumbed to time. It got to the best and worst of men. An elbow resided on the arm, knuckles propping up his chin. A firm jawline was exposed, an insight into the power coiled within.

His knowledge on battles was an extensive one. The Commander's mind functioned like a timeline, uniform dates in a neat row. All lined up like toy soldiers.

Fingers flicked out when he exhaled sharply. The relaxation Rourke possessed was a mimicry to a feline lounging by a window, soaking in the sun's rays.

"Shall we take a look at your dainty men?"

Little pawns for him to control.

Would he dare to burn down her kingdom?

Oh, no. She had much more use to him than her destruction.

[james-hook-blog-blog]

Sinless

[james-hook-blog-blog]

Hook paled slightly. A deal? He couldn’t be serious, could he? But based on his manner and walking, and how he wasn’t offering anything yet to this so called deal, but Hook was already on edge. And he was not about to offer anything to this mercenary.

He didn’t trust him. 

"Really?" Hook played ignorant for now, but was not in a position to say anything. "And what are the catches? I am sure you have a few. I am not going to just throw out options." who knows what they would trigger in this man’s mind.

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

On the contrary, the mercenary was dead serious. With nerves of steel, he had the gall to smile. The gesture betrayed all friendliness, though. A pompous shake of his head had been delivered, firearm flailing as his wrist flicked sporadically.

It was wise for Hook not to trust him.

Hands flicked out, fingers splayed as though to say 'What can you do?' Toothy grin faded, giving leeway to a grave expression. A thick brow rose slightly while the lines that adorned his forehead heaved.

"I'd like to consider myself as a self-made man. I do a little something for you and you do something for me. It's how the world works," he crooned. Avarice compelled him so. Slyly, he skirted around the subject at hand. "What do you say, partner?"

[accursedlight]

Quality Time | Helga & Rourke (Modern AU)

[accursedlight]

"If fate is what’s been pushing us along all this time," she observed, momentarily locking eyes with a flustered waitress before taking a seat herself, "then we must be nearing the fourth circle of Hell by now."

It certainly wasn’t a joyride. From the moment they first hit the road to now Helga couldn’t clear her mind of doubts. Doubts about Rourke’s intentions, about her own intentions, and even if there was even an end to this ghost chase.

Because that’s what it was. For once in all her life she had no plan to fall back on. She’d left her apartment and her job, the only two stable things left in her life, to travel to some unknown end with the man whom she thought she had every reason to despise. There could be no rational explanation for it and yet here she was sitting across from him exchanging compliments, poison barbs though they were.

The truth was they were both too broken to be put back together and in their attempts they mistook the other’s pieces for their own. And they were a perfect fit.

Clearing her throat Helga eyed Rourke’s tapping fingers as she kept hers folded directly in front of her. “I think they’re all ready to serve us to the door. If you can act like a common citizen for a little while,” she stated while taking hold of his hand to stop the noise, “then maybe we can have a nice lunch.” She shot him a smile, a look that would be enough for now.

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

"You know the inferno's a load of bull," he countered with a clipped tone. Not quite polished nor was it as refined as she, the femme fatale who moved with fluid grace. Rourke was rough around the edges, a stone skittering away from the sea. "Never cared for Dante's interpretation."

To the commander, seeing was believing. If there was no proof, then it did not exist. However, if alleged maps had been brought forth (much like a certain fountain he had his eye on), then he would be tempted to investigate.

His eyes flitted down to her touch, colder than ice. He did not flinch, refusing to show weakness. A darkness brewed on his stone cut features, the shadows illuminating his proud cheekbones.

Tension riled him, his muscles locked into place, akin to the jigsaw they formed. Together. Whole, but not quite.

Incomplete would suffice.

"There's nothing common about me, honey," Rourke crooned the false song of lovers. The clenching of his teeth indicated that Helga had won this round, fair and square. Her knight to take the board. "--But I won't bite. Waitress over there's shaking in her boots. Call her over."

He cocked his head, exposing his firm jawline, sculpted to model after a jagged edge.

Much like the snares that tethered him to her.

[james-hook-blog-blog]

Sinless

[james-hook-blog-blog]

Hook was at a loss. It was clear that the man was not out after Hook, but it was also made perfectly clear that he was not about to let the man out of his sight. So be it. Hook lowered his guard knowing that if anything happened, that gun on Rourke would fire more shots than Hook’s flintlock. 

Maintaining an unflinching expression, Hook spoke up, “So what do you want, Rourke?” Though he was almost certain that he would be drafted to hunt this other man down, Hook was seeing no real benefit. So long as Hook kept his tongue in check there would be no negative consequences to this encounter either. 

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

"What do I want?"

A sinful Cheshire grin curled onto the mercenary's lips. Delighted by the prospect of another deal, he chuckled. Avarice had been his downfall. He would settle for no less, only striving for all things better. For more.

Humming, he tapped his temple and assumed a crooked, little pace. The motion was similar to a caged panther, his shoulders rising in time with his walk. Dark eyes glittered, dancing in madness.

"How 'bout you and I cut a deal? I'm sure we can work something out."

[cafelaluna]

Visit Original Link

[accursedlight]

Quality Time | Helga & Rourke (Modern AU)

[accursedlight]

"How charming," she commented sarcastically to his back.

The sudden downpour had the diner see a small spike in attendance but still in all it wasn’t too crowded, much to Helga’s liking. A lingering aroma of soups and baked goods floated in the air and made her realize she was actually hungry. After sitting in the car for so long, dozing in and out, she found it quite easy to forget that she hadn’t eaten since early morning.

Spotting an empty booth to the right Helga pressed her hand to Rourke’s arm, not so much attempting to lead him as she was trying to get his attention. She knew the man had his attention on her most of the time and she knew she didn’t have to do much to obtain it. A blessing and a curse but which one it was more of was hard to tell.

"Would you look at that, they saved a spot just for us."

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

A dagger in his back, but it was no different than all the betrayal he committed in the past. Anything to gain the upper hand. It was every man for himself. In this dog eat dog world, he knew better than to look out for others.

"Oh, darling; I try to be," he shot back with bullets for words.

That familiar Texan drawl crept into his voice, a true American with a plethora of medals back home to vouch for it. He grunted -- a deep rumble that died in his throat -- as he turned to inspect the table. Surprisingly immaculate for a diner, recently wiped clean.

He strode towards the table, slid into the black booth with its plush exterior cracking from frequent use. Calloused fingers drummed against the table.

"Must be fate," he wise-cracked. Never was one to believe in destiny. Everything Rourke did was for himself. No one controlled him.

"Think they'll come running to serve us?"

He held his head high, imitating royalty.

[heraldhand]

Tin Soldiers || Leah && Rourke

[heraldhand]

The minor crises had been averted, and the glacier of a woman slowly allowed herself to relax into the unyielding chair, long fingers slowly twining together. His temper would run him into turbulent waters, for Leah was not easily pushed from side to side. She did not bow, and would not break easily.

How could a military man have such problems with her authority? A brief moment of silence passed, punctuated only by the queen’s light, fluttering breath. Her lips parted slightly, and for a single, solitary moment, the woman’s murky eyes met his sharp ones. "You are pardoned." She was not above denying a pardon, yet the offence had been so minor, so unimportant that she could not give anything less than a second chance. The next time (if there would be a next time), she would not be as lenient.  Her chilling glare lessened within a few heartbeats as the threat of his temper slowly abated, and after a brief moment, she began to toy with her heavy, gilded rings, finding some comfort within the repetitive action. The calm was terrifying, yet Leah took what she was given. But was she wise? She was analytical, knew her way around the strategy map… but caution was not the same as wisdom. "It would be a pleasure to work with you." She murmured, leaning towards him. "Now, the militia here… they need a strong hand, and the old commander simply was not up to the task." She paused, eyes shutting. Would she regret this? Perhaps. "However, you seem more than able."

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

A problem with authority sparked at a young age for a man named Lyle T. Rourke. It started off in the shadow of his father's legacy, born from the ashes of a military hero. Rourke never aspired to be the man he never knew, but vowed to rise above him -- like a phoenix born from the ashes.

His head dipped down in the grace of her pardon, hands folded and thumbs twiddling together. A seemingly modest gesture. Perhaps he was mocking her. One could never tell with his dry sarcasm and pseudo-sincerity.

Rourke's ego swelled at Leah's subtle comment.

More than able.

"What became of the old commander?"

Probably retired, maybe dead. So long as the grizzled hound didn't stand in his way, then there would be no problems.

"Oh, I am able. Qualified for this job to a tee. Mark my words."

Almost mentioned a scout's honor, but spared the Queen of any of his quips.

His spine stretched, joints spreading and pulling when gravity tethered him to the spot. A corner of his mouth quirked.

"You need a list of my qualifications?"

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

I Come with Knives

[as-madasahatter-deactivated2016]

Lifting an eyebrow, Hatter returned his gaze to the portrait of war that he had been gazing at. “There is nothing beautiful nor pretty about warfare,” he stated forcefully. He himself had seen the aftermath of wars and had not enjoyed the sight. It was a picture he was forever fighting to banish from his mind, but so far, his attempts had been unsuccessful at best.

"I was just admiring how different war became over the years. More harsh and violent, deaths increasing. And yet it is still immortalized on ‘pretty, painted plastic’."

He turned to the man and inclined his head. “I was not looking for anything. Rather, I was admiring. The places are always different wherever I stop, but I find that the drinks are always the same. Tea is never too far.”

Noticing the medals that decorated the man’s coat, Hatter could only assume that the man had been given the medals as a symbol of honor or bravery. He hadn’t missed the way the man pulled himself to full height nor the sound of teeth grinding together. Whatever or whoever was irritating the man would not enjoy the consequences. “But I take it that you yourself are not here for the pictures either?”

[diplomacyhasfailedus]

Obsidian eyes roved sidelong to catch a glimpse of the Hatter, making silent note of his attire. Cracked lips formed a thin line, but he produced a little snort. Muscles twitched in defiance. He gripped his wrist a bit harder, applying more pressure than he should have.

"Perhaps to you. We all see different."

He wouldn't argue. In fact, the Hatter's opposition reminded him of a lily-livered scholar by the name of Milo Thatch. This museum, it seemed, was bustling with memories to haunt him.

"War? War never changes."

An arrogant scoff. Rourke should know; he had seen it all, going back to his artillery days and moving forward to his mercenary ones. He offered a slight shrug, fabric wrinkling in the aftermath.

"It's all the same to me. We upgrade to bigger and badder weapons for what? Territorial expansion, politics, money. It all means one thing, son: gain."

Rourke laughed when he rocked on the heels of his boots, quirking a brow as he examined the Hatter's face.

"No, I'm not, which makes me wonder... What's your agenda?"