𝐹𝐿𝐼𝒢𝐻𝒯 / ˡᵉˢˢ

a mutant oc 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓋. & 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝓁. ʷʳⁱᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᵇʸ ᵒˡˡⁱᵉ

[fliightlvss]

ofchrvnicles​:

     As he leans on his knees, catching his breath, Judas watches the strange movement beneath the other’s clothes. Gifted, he thought, for sure. He didn’t need to touch the guy to know that. He watched as the car sped away down the street, screeching as it rounded a corner, out of sight. Judas tried to recall if he had seen the license during his vision, but he was coming up with nothing. “Sorry, man,” He shrugged. “I didn’t see it.” Judas put his bare hands back into his pockets, a habit he had formed over his life as a clairvoyant. “Someone out to get you, or something? That seemed a little targeted to me.” Not that it was any of his business, but the lack of headlights and the speed of the car seemed to be suspicious. Judas cocked an eyebrow, wondering what would have made the other such a wanted man.

          gaze flickers up toward the buildings, searching for cameras then down to the asphalt to his dropped candy bar when he sees none. it's miraculously not squished, when he picks it up, deemed still eatable. apollo shrugs, unwrapping the kit kat and taking a bite.      " dunno ---- could be. "      he doesn't sound overly concerned. wouldn't be the first time someone's tried to get him back for revealing their cheating habits, or finding some long lost sibling to split the family fortune with, or destroying their business on the case of tax fraud. people could be crazy and do even crazier things. in this case though, he'd just have to wait and see if anything else happened. a planned hit and run was sloppy in his opinion, too many variables that could go wrong and spoke to not too much money backing this --- or not too much brains.      " thanks though --- i'd really hate to be pancake in the street. "

[fliightlvss]

cherrybvmbs​:

* ╰ ㅤ with  apollo.

time: 6:45pm. location: fire escape route, somewhere in the city. tag: @fliightlvss​

        THE NIGHTLIFE IN NEW YORK was like an entirely different city than it was in the day. as the innocent nine-to-fives retreated back to their homes and their families, the real animals came out and stalked the streets. nico had seen the shift for YEARS; she’d had enough material to write a whole novel on it if she wanted to. but her skills didn’t align with her interests. writing could be nice, but it certainly didn’t PAY the bills. chunky, black boots wandered the high tops of new york’s stubby apartment blocks; high enough to feel the breath of the night’s wind but low enough that she couldn’t reach the clouds.

       she didn’t have anything PLANNED for the night; the thought of perhaps sharing a bottle of champagne for one and listening to music on her cracked phone sounded relaxing enough. the escapist continued to leap through the air with a hum, feet slowly coming to a halt as she recognised a mop of golden straw hair sitting by the escape route of another building. an eyebrow rose at the sight, her mind FLASHING back to their first meeting. rogue lips curl into a curious smile, boots stopping just in front of the low-edged concrete wall, wind intertwining with the braids of her hair and tail of her leather trench coat.

       it was like masterful clockwork; her perspective spinning around, calloused hands gripping to the grazing edge before feeling the wind rush past her ears. boots softly colliding with the metal staircase and the open space next to the private investigator. turns out a few clients of her own had heard about the winged investigator and were pleased enough to give her more information. nico shoved her hands into the deep pockets of her coat, a smile delicate on her lips with eyes glancing around. “ i’m guessing you aren’t bird-watching then. ”

      nico casually took her place nearby, glancing out to the city around them before returning her focus back on the winged figure. “ —- p.i everette, do you ever STOP working ? ”

-

          this is pushing it as far as apollo and heights go --- if he looks down he'll see the rush of cars and people hurrying on by through the bars of the fire escape, and the familiar nausea of vertigo will take over. but working solo often means he has to do things just outside his comfort zone and the birds for all their assistance, cannot understand all the nuances of surveillance. they're JUST birds, after all. though it gets points docked for overall uncomfortableness, he has to admit it is the perfect vantage point --- overall too high to be noticed and a perfect sight line to the building almost directly across the street. he'd helped the owner of the building once, early on anyway ; he doesn't think he'll be disturbed --- famous last thoughts.

          he already has company of a sort: a barn swallow that lives in the church belfry two blocks away perched on the iron railing. it titters suddenly and that's all the warning apollo gets before she shows up, metal vibrating uneasily beneath him as nico jumps down beside him. it flies away not long after ; and though the half-understandable of bird belfry nesting politics wasn't thrilling, apollo isn't so sure the company has exactly improved.

          " i can arrange that if that's what you wanted to do. "      he barely spares her a glance --- she is right about one thing, he rarely stops working and he's not exactly eager to come back another night if he doesn't get the information he needs. the windows in question, though lit, remain quiet. a cluttered desk is in view but the visible papers off little in way of corporal espionage : a receipt from the chinese restaurant down the street, an email chain about land deeds, a note about milk from what he suspects is from the manager's wife.

          " --- see you've done your research. "      he'd found the photo she'd left atop the stack of cases waiting to be closed out, but had done little with it besides move it to a different stack of files out of the way. what more was there for him to learn ?? she had her file and could burn or shred or whatever she planned on doing with it. he’d half expected to never see her again.      " anything THRILLING i should know about ?? "

[fliightlvss]

nouveaucassandra​:

“apollo,” she echoes his name when he says hers and releases the corner of fabric when he moves to take it off. circe knows he doesn’t like the looks the wings get - she wouldn’t like them, either - but there is the all-too powerful feeling of wind in the hair and heart beating in tandem with wings that rings in the quiet space behind her ears, too loud to ignore or brush off as just thinking of a bird. he’s worried about her. worried she’ll be hurt or worse and it will be his fault - he could have stopped her from coming - he should have done something differently. circe is used to people being overly cautious with her; she was raised with it. “i’m not - wouldn’t - won’t - wouldn’t have come if it…if i would…it’s fine. will be. it will be fine.” she tries for reassuring but is fairly certain she misses, mind drifting to two weeks ago in the middle of oklahoma where bonnie schmidt ran away from home to her boyfriends house and her mother noticed a week ago and hasn’t told anyone and - circe blinks and smiles uneasily at apollo. “little one?” it’s cute.

          objectively, he knows this --- but knowing and liking something have never had to go hand in hand. now is the time for DOING things, though ; not wondering if things will happen. he has a case to close, money to make, and rent to pay in three days. he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, ushering her out the door and locking it behind them.      " it just slipped out --- "      he mutters, but the truth is he has grown fond of the birds he has come to rely on. and it makes him sound a bit less crazy if anyone's listening --- though he supposes now the feathery appendages clearly seen on his back make everything a lot more obvious. he can feel brad from the second floor STARING as they head past down the stairs, wingtips brushing the linoleum with each descending step. apollo ignores it with stiffened shoulders and a down set gaze. there is little relief in the night air outside, looks still tossed occasionally their way, but the sun is near set and soon darkness will set in like a second cover.      " you have your metrocard ? "

[hardytoms]

Share the fucking sandwich Micro

[fliightlvss]

@cherrybvmbs

[fliightlvss]

outcastiids​:

Ah. And there it was, white wings spread over the alley. Feather–human feathers– floating in Ezra’s face like snow on a winter night. They were beautiful, fascinating, Ezra found himself picturing the muscles in the man’s back and how they pulled against each other to move the massive wings. Ezra’s favorite class in medical school had been anatomy, so he couldn’t help but to stand and stare for a second, overcome with pure amazement of what the Gifted were capable of. That would teach him to assume a coat was just a coat. As the man started to run, the mugger’s shock faded and he stretched out a hand towards a wing, grabbing a fistful of feathers. Ezra reacted instantly, wrenching the man’s hand off the wing and taking off after the other man. “This way.” He yelled over, gesturing the man towards his apartment, just two blocks away. It wasn’t safe for him to be in full view like this, the mugger and the regular people of New York would all be out for blood.

-

          apollo chases almost blindly after the man, hoping he was at least leading them somewhere decent and out of sight. leaving him out to dry would be a real shitty thing to do after he'd gotten them both out of there; plus he still has the guy's wallet. it's not like he has much other choice, though, not really familiar with the area and not wanting to run into someone significantly less friendlier than the stranger he's running after. the fact he hadn't abandoned him in an alleyway at the sight of his wings at least meant he was amiable to the gifted -- apollo definitely knew there were others that wouldn't be so KIND. so that's how he ends up in a complete stranger's apartment, sharp eyes taking in the detail around him, including the nearest exits just in CASE. he drops his bag with a thud.     " nice digs, "     he says dryly.

          he eyes the stranger warily for a moment, before deciding at this point it probably doesn’t matter. wings unfold once again and apollo surveys the wing that'd been grabbed. crimson blood droplets stand out starkly admist the white feathers --- a few sticking out at odd directions. he gently prods at a broken feather and groans. go fucking figure.      " ugh --- fucker broke a blood feather, "     he complains.      " and i JUST molted. knew i should've tried harder to knock the bastard out. "

[fliightlvss]

nouveaucassandra​:

“i’m sure.” circe manages it with a good amount of finality and solidity, hands tucked into her pockets and eyes turned towards the ever-darkening sky rather than peering at apollo. she wants to be here. needs to, maybe. she does not need to do many things, but this feels - like she is supposed to be here. like it will be better if she is here. like if she is not here something will happen, one of the horrible little splinters of possibility she cannot sift from the others at the moment, lost in the sounds of footsteps and gunfire and breaking glass and camera clicking and pen scratching on paper. “you - don’t like - won’t like this, i - doubted, but you…might want to,” she reaches out and tugs absently on the edge of his jacket, hiding his wings, “be…ready to - go.”

         " circe ----"      she's right. he doesn't like the prospect of leaving his coat behind ---- in all its constricting fabric, it's freeing in some way to skirt by unnoticed. the syllables of her name die out unfollowed, however; the tan coat pulled wordlessly off his shoulders and rehung on its hook. he also know she's right in what she says, because her advice is seldom given lightly. the canvas is replaced with leather, the white of his feathers almost stark against the dark material. shoulders roll as he gets the fabric to settle comfortably before he bends to retrieve his camera. he still doesn't like that she's tagging along ; it part puts him on edge, already waiting for something to happen ( stay left ). but perhaps that is not so bad --- he could stand to be a bit more VIGILANT.     " all right ---- c'mon then, one of the little ones already scouted a good position to start from. "

[fliightlvss]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐀 ( @emptycrwn​ )

          apollo grew up in the desert, shifting sands all around and the glare of the sun stretching on forever. he misses it sometimes like a half-remembered dream : the way the heat seemed to burrow into everything, the feeling of almost melting, and the way the sun lay flat and watercolor-like over the horizon. artemisia’s florist shop hardly reminds him of that, with its lush greens and the sweet-smelling humidity that hung in the air, but there is still a certain comfort that lies over him when he steps over the threshold. the myriad of colors is nearly an assault on his eyes.      “ ARTIE !!! ”      he finally comes to a halt at the empty checkout counter,      “ ---- lunchtime !! ” 

          he leans idly against the checkout,  gaze wandering from one unfamiliar flora to another. plants had never been his strong suit, unless you counted the succulents on his kitchen counter which he suspected only lived because he mostly left them alone. eagle eyes spot movement among some ferns --- a sparrow, hopping along the foliage. he whistles once, the bird coming to a halt, head cocked curiously at him.      “ you're going to get stuck in here, ”      he tells it,      “ ---- c’mon. ”      it surveys him with beady black eyes before hopping closer, another pause before it flutters up to settle on the curve of his shoulder and starts to preen. apollo turns at the sound of footsteps,      “ --- been trying to get this guy out of your shop ?? ”

[fliightlvss]

cherrybvmbs​:

🌙 — 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑. the femme stayed poised, grasping at her cool composure with PURSED lips. the slightest ghost of pout leaving her, like a spoilt child being denied a wanted toy. nico has spent years keeping herself in the dark until it became like a second skin to her, a sleek MIDNIGHT suit she wore with grace. it was a picky detail, and perhaps simply just a chance of fate, that the folder would fall into her hands. but knowing that the case file exists, whether the male had a plan to do something with it or not, it left a tragic feeling in nico’s stomach. she just couldn’t rely on him not doing ANYTHING with it, the information wasn’t worth a lot but it sure as hell was worth something; especially if her affiliates caught a whiff of it. 

she couldn’t deny the way he held her curiosity, like grasping around a glass orb filled with hazy smoke. the wings certainly was a sight to behold, watching the odd feather float to the ground; twirling in the air like an unpracticed dance before resting down on the wooden floor. it was almost rhythmic, watching the rings rise and fall, there was a sense of wavering calm to it that eased the tension in her shoulders. nico blew out another sigh, feeling her fingers itch for a cigarette —- so much for giving up. 

there’s a delicate scoff, almost INAUDIBLE, at the mention of the window. nico’s gaze flickers towards the opening as the other spoke, watching the world move on by without them, no second thought or flying care about leaving the two behind. her lips purse firmly together at the mention of her full name. NICOLA, she hasn’t heard it uttered to her in years, almost a decade perhaps. it leaves a sour taste in the femme’s mouth, a bitter reminder of a person that’s no longer there, or maybe still lingers ? “ it’s NICO. ” she corrects with a curt nod. “ the place needed some fresh air “ —- maybe i’m just waiting for a drink and to be offer a seat, you were the one that said i was COMPANY. ”

-

          it's nice to be RIGHT. he isn't terribly surprised that she doesn't like to go by her full name --- it'd been a guess, but an easy one. the dots to connect between her certain occupation and her ability were far too clear. but that's likely the most CLEAR thing about her. all his tailing and survellience of her had yielded little to her own character, but looking in from the outside rarely does. she did always appear to work ALONE, though --- and maybe apollo can relate to that.

          " that i didn't invite -- "      he reminds her, "      besides, didn't think you were the type to need an invitation to make yourself at home. "      he can't remember the last time he actually had someone over --- circe, friendship or not, does not quite seem to qualify as COMPANY, in a category of her own making. planned or not, being a gracious host wasn't exactly something apollo excelled at, ESPECIALLY within the confines of his own home. she doesn't seem to be terribly interested in leaving, something that baffles him slightly, given that --at least from his point of view-- she is holding most of the cards in this situation. this is a waiting game of sorts, then. well, apollo has had his fair share of tests of patience in his short career thus far ; what was one more ?

          his gaze drops to the file in her hand, a whisper of a sigh escaping between lips as he turns away from her. perhaps he's too confident that she won't stab him in the back ( literally ), but thieves were not often murderers too. much too messy. and he's tired, the night having stretched on far too long already -- hell if he's not going to make himself comfortable in his own home. he deposits his camera on the coffee table, shucks off his leather jacket and wanders to place it on its hook by the door next to the tan coat hanging limp. his wings flare out briefly to their full span at the loss of constricting fabric around them, down to just the thin material of his shirt. the loose paper on the floor skitters over the hardwood as they fold back up neatly. he eventually finds himself on his couch, idly picking away at some unwanted, near microscopic debris between his flight feathers.

[fliightlvss]

cherrybvmbs​:

🌙 — 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓, 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇, lips kept only millimetres apart as her eyes DART from the male’s face to the almost ethereal-like wings that followed behind him. the femme knew that she wasn’t alone when it came to having mutations, unwanted complications in the DNA code —- but nico had never seen a gifted with such PHYSICAL attributes such as his. as she watches his gaze flicker away to the open window, the femme reminds herself to exhale. the file was in HER possession, not his. it always was a thought that haunted her that there was someone possibly hunting her down; the comfort in ambiguity, in the knowledge of being known as a spectre, an enigma, helped strengthen the wall nico held between herself against the world. it was always better to STRIKE that be struck. 

yet, despite the simmering distrust of him being a detective ( or whatever he claimed to be, for all she knew, he could be the kind to dress up in spandex and call himself a hero ) and the information held in her grasp, nico still ADMIRED the effort —- despite how much she wanted most of it to stay hidden. the femme wasn’t proud of her past, her relationships but as marilyn put it brilliantly, diamonds are a girl’s best friend, and with ber particular skillset, it also helped to stay fed in such an unfair city. nico couldn’t care less about how unjust the world could be, it was a REALITY she grew up in. but as her narrowed eyebrows begin to soften, curiosity start to glisten in her eyes. 

“ lucky me, then ! do i get to know YOUR name as a reward ? ” nico hummed with a coy smirk, feline-edged hues admiring the other. her gaze flickers once more to the folder, bringing it forward and flicking through the pages. a sharp, black nail tracing the edges of her portrait. it was no MASTERPIECE, but she’s still quietly stunned by how clear the photo it is. a soft tsk escapes her painted lips, feigning an apologetic wince towards the detective. such a slut for dramatics. “ sorry HANDSOME, can’t say that’s my area of interest. but i also can’t have this floating around, either. see my problem ? ”

-

          his name --- he could just tell her. apollo isn't in the business in believing names have power and all that shit --- in some ways, his entire business is built on people knowing his name, or at least the name of the PI firm. but after the herculean effort he put into trying to puzzle her out and then ultimately getting barely a meager stipend for it ( and the quiet threat of a lawsuit in response --- rich boys and their easily bruised EGOS ; laughable ), it just seems a little unfair.          " ---- sure, if you look hard enough. "      he hasn't really looked at the file since he cast it aside nearly three months ago, but there's no doubt some record of email correspondence with his signature, some notes written on letterhead with sunrise investigations printed boldly at the top.

          apollo cannot claim to truly know her --- no one can truly know another, except perhaps circe and her ways of knowing everything ( even then, knowing and understanding and being are all so different ). the file in the end is barely a skeleton, enough to incriminate her sure, but hardly a wonder in comparison to flesh and blood.  his wings twitch behind him, feathers rustling as they lift and settle once again like the rise and fall of a chest.

          eyes continue to examine her steadily through her dramatics. the problem as she so cleverly calls it, is more than obvious -- would've been to anyone, PI or not. he still doesn't quite trust her comment of WRONG ADDRESS when he'd first walked in on her. stealing a file that has the power to destroy you is an understandable motive, much more so than some of the other culprits he spends his days tracking down. but it's still an imperfect theory, because no one else knew he'd sketched her out in photos and neat, spidery handwriting. and of course, more importantly why linger ?       " i can ------- that why you haven't made your escape out the window, nicola ? "

[fliightlvss]

outcastiids​:

Fuck. By the sounds of that, the other man wasn’t just going to hand the jacket over quietly. The gears in Ezra’s mind started working, looking for someway out of this that didn’t involve that gun going off or anyone getting hurt, but there was no way out. They were in a small alley, the road to freedom blocked off by cold steel. Shit. Getting shot hurt so much. Materialistic little shit, it was just a coat. Ezra was really about to get shot over a goddamn coat. He was already focusing the energy in his body, feeling platelets pool in his fingers waiting for any hint of injury. “Just give him the coat.” Ezra pleaded, readying himself to run all the same.

-

          the coat really isn’t much anyway -- a thrift-store find years ago with little value except perhaps in nostalgia and the very specific cloaking use it also happened to have for apollo -- so maybe he can’t begrudge the guy’s reaction, but then he also can’t help his own responding eyeroll.     “ yeah, yeah --- ”     the mugger is rifling through the last pocket of his backpack, and while he’s still distracted apollo finally does strip off his coat. white wings flare out in its place ( fuck it does feel good to stretch them out after constraining them all day ), the movement prompting the mugger to look up, the gun steadied and prepared to shoot --- but not before it’s knocked out of his hand with one quick frontstroke of a wing. the backstroke catches him in the chin, knocking him off balance and then apollo is moving.      “ c’mon --- go go go go go --- ”      coat balled up under one arm he quickly snatches up his backpack, haphazardly shoving the dropped gun and the strangers wallet into it before making a beeline for the street, items clutched to his chest. but he doesn’t make it before he feels a painful tug in his wing, excruciating for a moment before he yanks it free and stumbles into the -- thankfully empty-- street.

[fliightlvss]

nouveaucassandra·:

“it’s good. not…sweet, but not cloying.” circe snags her denim jacket from the back of a chair as she wanders past, resting it on her shoulders but not slipping arms through the sleeves. she lingers in the hallway as he locks the door behind them, rocking back on her heels for a moment and steadfastly ignoring the sound of marching feet outside - marching feet of the past, distant, far-off but still lingering in the ground below the pavement. “oh.” she blinks at herself and wonders quietly why she was here. circe doesn’t really remember tracing the path from her apartment to apollo’s. it’s something she has done many times and they blur into each other, the intention and timing sometimes getting lost in the sound of it all. “oh! you…the couple. her. him - i mean, it’s…i just….helping. sorry - i wanted to help.”

IT’S A TIME SKIP, BROS

          he glances out the window ; a bit of dusky orange fading to dark blue still lingers on the horizon where it’s visible in the gaps between buildings, the sounds of the street are not so different than they’d been hours ago, but still, it is soon time to go. he places his camera back in its case, a notebook and pen tucked into a side pocket. just one more thing :     “ i know you said you wanted to help but are you SURE about this ?? ”     concern is not often a tone found in apollo’s voice, but it’s creeping along the edges now. a stupid question to ask, maybe --- circe no doubt has her reasons, not all that apollo could even dare to understand --- but reasons can be watered down to a tight kernel of truth, and his is he doesn’t not want her putting herself into danger. he may not forgive himself for that. 

[fliightlvss]

outcastiids​:

“As much as I’d love to be friends with all of the miscreants this city has to offer, no, I do not know him.” Ezra muttered back, taking his wallet out of his pocket and throwing it over. Luckily, he didn’t have anything else of value except for his suit on, which he doubted the man would want, it was at least two size too big. “The backpack.” The mugger yelled, his gun now pointing at the other man. “C’mon dude, take it off. Nothing material is worth your life.” The way the guy had his finger curled around the trigger had Ezra worried. It was possible he wouldn’t actually shoot them, but with nerves like those and the finger resting on steel, it could very easily be an accidental shooting. “And my life. Nothing you got inside that bag is worth my life.” He chuckled nervously.

          he’s absolutely right --- nothing he has in that bag is worth anyone’s life : an easy conclusion since there’s NOTHING in it. in a slightly less high stressful situation, apollo might’ve realized how much of a lie that sounds --- but he’s still instead staring down the gunman.      “ FINE ---- geez, ”      he concedes after a moment longer, slowly shrugging off the bag and kicking it over, careful to keep his body square to the mugger and thus the bulge along his back obscured. it dawns on him then that flight is hardly the only thing his wings are good for, and that he’d just made his own needed distraction. head tilts slightly as he tries to gauge the distance between them : five feet ? six ? certainly too far away for him to knock him out but at least the gun on the other hand...      “ ---- don’t say i lied when i said it was EMPTY, though, ”      he goads, prompting a glare from the gunman. he glances at his unfortunate company, then back at the mugger rifling one-handed through his bag, the gun still pointed at him, albeit a little less intensely with the split focus.     ‘ your coat too --- ’ growls the guy, and apollo has to bite back a grim smile. he mutters low and quiet to the suit guy,      “ i know you probably don’t trust me, but just get ready to run. ”

[fliightlvss]

ofchrvnicles​:

On his walk home, Judas lit his signature mint-flavoured cigarette, the warmth of the flame providing somewhat of a comfort on his skin in the chill of the night. This time of the night was perfect for Judas. He walked glove-free, fingers stroking everything he walked past as he watched the boring flashes of the past before his eyes. As his fingers brushed against a car door, however, the flash was more interesting, and much darker. It was about to hit someone. Judas jumped as the car jolted to life, the driver shifting it into gear before moving from it’s parking space. Judas looked down the road, seeing the same person standing in the street that he had seen in his vision. “Fuck.” He muttered, huffing in disdain as he realised he couldn’t stand idly by. Judas sprinted forward, and upon reaching the person, he grabbed the back of their clothes and yanked them backwards, the car missing them by mere moments. He caught his balance, leaning down on his legs and letting out a deep sigh. “I’m not made for this hero shit.”

          apollo wasn't a night person by nature, but necessity driven by his job and society had shaped him into some version of one. his tasks for the night are simple : well-informed by the pigeons in central park and the sparrows in the bell-tower. it's CLUTCH work, just a few simple photos to close out a couple files on his desk. he's near wrapping up with one location, on a slow walk towards the next with a kitkat in hand. it's more of a cursory look he gives when he crosses the street ; he should've looked harder.      " FUCK --- "      he stumbles backward, dropping his candy bar and losing his balance with the rough tug on his coat ( and what feels like a few feathers too ). wings flare out instinctively to help him stay upright, though they're quickly confined by the length of his coat --- actually doing very little to mitigate the situation.      " --- shit --- "      he finally does find his balance, and once he gets his bearings again, it dawns on him what was odd about it. no blinding headlights, just the dim glow of the flickering streetlamp --- this was likely no accident. he steps back out into the street but the car is of course long gone. a sigh escapes him as he casts a glance at the guy who'd yanked him back.     " fuck, man --- you didn't see the license plate did you ?? "

[fliightlvss]

outcastiids​:

Ezra strolled down the street, hands in his pockets and head in the clouds. He was in his best suit, sweating in the late afternoon sun, but the heat was worth it for the raise he had just fought for. He could see his dreams materializing just down the block, a practice of his own, enough stability to pay off his loans and send his daughter to college. He was living the life he had always wanted. He took a turn off the main street, going down quieter roads that led to cozy New York apartments, when he heard angry voices coming from the alley right next to his favorite Chinese spot. He cautiously made his way over, only to be met with a gun pointed straight at his abdomen. “Out of the light, NOW. Get the fuck over there.” The mugger snarled, gesturing the gun to the person already standing deep in the alley. Ezra’s hands went up, a practiced movement, and he walked slowly around the man and over to the other person. “You okay?” He asked under his breath, noting their strange body language. Hopefully this wasn’t anything more than your typical NYC thief.

          apollo was NOT having a great day. from the broken hot water in the shower this morning to the lead gone cold on a case that should've been open and shut by lunchtime to this fucking idiot, it really kept going from back to worse. it is times like this that he wishes so ever fleetingly that he was better at flying ( or maybe just not so afraid of HEIGHTS ) ---- vertigo doesn't sound SO bad when you consider possibly being shot is the alternative. of course, he could end up getting shot out of the sky anyway, the whole scene captured on grainy cell-phone video and then going viral, and that sounds even worse than just getting shot. so here he is, stubbornly in his corner, not taking his coat or backpack off, in a shouting match with a guy with a gun while also trying not to disclose the secret literally on his back. a tremendous way to spend an afternoon, really. he doesn't know whether or not to be RELIEVED when the other guy shows up. okay, maybe a little relieved --- two against one does seem like better odds.      " great --- doing EXACTLY what i thought i'd be doing on a friday afternoon, "      he deadpans, gaze never leaving their assailant.      " don't suppose you have any idea who this nut job is, huh ?? "

[fliightlvss]

cherrybvmbs​:

fliightlvss​:

🌙 — 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐎’𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. she wasn’t a religious person, not ANYMORE at least. the divine and untouched belief in an ever-so-gracious higher being was lost upon her, that was the past; but with a childhood littered with godly metaphors and sayings, nico was a firm believer that the devil was truly in the DETAILS. eyebrows knitted together as she stays steady by the wall, still aware of the folder in her possession. the femme took in the gentleness of his eyes; bags resting neatly under their curve, strawy hair falling just between the knit of his eyebrows. nico certainly wouldn’t be forgetting him anytime soon, not when he spent his time tailing her around the city. what a waste of a pretty face. 

truth be told, nico hadn’t gone into terrible detail with her folder. eyes only skimming over the scribbled notes and paperclipped sheets of ivory paper. she did, however, appreciate the blurry photo of her walking in a beeline through a lobby ALONE. dark eyes were hidden behind stolen cat-eyed sunglasses, dressed up as some kind of rich executive to fit amongst the stinking wealthy that lingered in the hallway. nico could only assume it was zoomed up security footage, a moment of her routinely peering back by the angle the photo framed her face.

her pulled lips stay brilliantly familiar upon her features, as if it was etched into place like a  piece of art. nico took a step back, eyes attached upon the male and she watched a delicate feather elegantly twirl to the ground. ODD, but she had truthfully seen weirder in the filthy and more disgusting side of new york. in situations such as these, nico possibly would’ve leapt out of the window by now if it wasn’t for the blinking, reminding thought that floated in her mind. he was one introduction ahead of her, and in nico’s mind, that was entirely UNFAIR. and with the boyish smile from the other, a failed theory, the thief was hungry for more information. a light shrug of her shoulders as she held the folder closer, keeping note of the distance between them, “ too OPTIMISTIC of me, then? ”

nico glanced over to the couch of paper and folders; if he wasn’t a cop, what could he be then? possibilities were dissected and crossed off mentally in her mind. the vaguest of ghostly dimples grew by the edge of her lips, intertwining and hiding the folder behind her back childishly. “ so no uniform. surprise me, you’re some kind of BROODING detective? or am i guessing wrong and i’m meeting my biggest fan. ”

          he stops a wing’s breadth away from her. intimidation isn't an intention here, nor any certain predatory instinct. birds of prey are not like their feline equivalents :  they do not creep around and STALK ---  they target and drop from the sky before their prey is none the wiser. birds of prey also don't use their wings as a weapon so that's an imperfect analogy --- but apollo lacks talons too so maybe that's fair. regardless, nowadays he's likely more akin to the sparrows that hop curiously around under the birdfeeder, pecking at the fallen seeds on the sill and waiting for him to put out more. his gaze flickers toward the open window : the pigeon that'd cooed the warning is gone, just the typical sounds of new york at night filter through.

          OPTIMISTIC is one way to put it, but then again, that’s exactly what he had been thinking he could get his foot in the door of the fbi when they would never let his wings fit. reality is always grittier, less pretty, more sorrowful than anyone wants to let on. that feels like a very long time ago, though -- and maybe six years IS ; he's long moved on from the fact. if apollo is good at anything besides his job, it's at letting the past stay where it is. turns out he wasn't exactly a ' make the world a better place ' or ' revolutionize the system ' type anyway. shoulders rise and fall in a shrug in response as his eyes follow the movement of her hands. her words seem to echo in his head : biggest fan, so it was that case file as he suspected then. 

          though not exactly the terminology he'd use, he did have to admit that he had a begrudging respect for her skills --- the difficulty of tracking her down was something unmatched by any of his marks before or after her case. ( perhaps that's why he hadn't shredded the damn thing --- a point of PRIDE of having worked so hard on it ).      " i'll give you PARTIAL CREDIT for that one ---- "     he says. detective was close enough to private investigator in the end, just a bunch of mostly irrelevant technicalities between them.      " ---- brooding season's almost over though ; can't really say that i partake in it anyway. "      the smile turns more genuine at the joke. funny word BROODING --- oft attached to the mysterious male when the original definition harks to the protective female. hands settle in his pants pockets, stance mostly relaxed as he surveys her and her red-lipsticked smile.       " you plan on taking that with you ?? 'fraid it'll fetch a lot LOWER price than the stuff you're used to ---- unless you're in the business of turning yourself in. "

[fliightlvss]

nouveaucassandra​:

eyes trail the floating feathers that fall from his wings as he puts on a shirt, watching them drift to settle on the floor. “a walk is nice,” she almost always thinks a walk would be nice - apollo knows that. rain or shine; sometimes walking in dreary weather is better than the sun, the sound of water hitting glass, pavement, and metal able to drown out the quieter murmurs of the world. sunny days have laughter and traffic and the sound of chatter, which doesn’t work as well. “larger scoops. just…more generous in…general.” does that sound right? circe unfolds her legs from under herself and stands, stretching idly before following along behind him. “mmm….papaya, today.”

          people are better when they're GENEROUS --- a somewhat hypocritical thought since apollo rarely finds himself in a generous mood. there's a reason his friends number few and far between.      " can't say i've ever had that before --- "      he comments, pulling his coat from its hook, shrugging it on though he likely doesn't need it for the weather. the fabric settles heavier than it looks over his wings and he resists the persisting urge to ruffle them. his picks up his backpack, a glance over his shoulder sees that circe is not far behind. he holds the door open for her, closing and locking it behind them. it's only after she's trailed out that he wonders why she was there at all.     " was there a reason ? "     he asks, keys jangling as he slips them into his pocket.     " that you came over ? "

[fliightlvss]

vectorcd​:

“Wasn’t going to flee, just backing up,” was that what she was doing? In the midst of panic, she had forgotten any sense of what she was doing so it was all up in the air whether she was simply backing up or fleeing. Turning around, she was met by someone who looked like a reporter from the 40s, ready for his next story. “What are you? A cop?”

     “ hardly ---- ”     his tone is clearly amused, though he offers little clarification on the matter.  he considers her for a moment ( no, certainly not the type to flee, likely ) : she does look vaguely familiar in a fleeting way though, like someone he may have passed in a hall before or something of the sort. his chin jerks in the direction of the toppled vending machine, a smile flirting with his lips.     “ i would’ve, you know ----- fled, i mean. so if you were thinking about it, i won’t judge at all. ”