RECKLESS @gunmetalgrey - Tumblr Blog

PETYA KAITYA ALEXANDRIE MORAN // ALEX MORAN

Ex-member of the UKSF,

Wanted for on suspicion of murder, attempted murder, theft and kidnapping.

VERSES // KNOWN AS // FEES AND PRICING // SKILLSET // DYNAMICS // HEADCANONS // CONTACT BOOK

// TW FOR AGE 33+ INTERACTIONS

// HOW TO INTERACT

RULES // AGRA // THE DEAD MANS SWING //OTHER IMPORTANT INFO

// ACCESS FILE ?

gunmetalgrey

The younger is persistent, but there’s nothing but a seeping pit to hell where a heart might be tonight. Black, screaming, whirring with the violence inflicted over a lifetime. She lets Yan touch her, and eyes up her neck.

She could snap it.

She could wring it like a chicken for roasting.

She could sink her teeth in and drink the young one dry.

Stop any annoyance in its tracks.

So desperate. So impatient. But she’s not any more present than Alex is. They have spent too long together and it shows.

Again Alex doesn’t move. But her eyes flicker past Yan, to the embers in the grate at the bottom of the bed. “I have no use for broken things.”

Her voice is hollow, absent like a laugh from a room down the hall, echoing with missing emotion. Yet it’s honest. And maybe that’s the real tragedy.

sorrowsick-a

Yan has her limits, even in this mood. When she pulls away her expression is bitter and disappointed, nothing like the cold emptiness of Alex's but equally dark in her own way. She pulls herself up to stand, pale and pretty and a fucking gift to anyone.

"You are a broken thing. It does not make you less broken to be able to do this."

It is cowardice. It's weak. It's a convenient excuse. All of her desire to deal with Alex in this state has faded, drained out of her like blood gurgling down the drain.

Yan turns away, picking clothes off the floor to dress herself. Alex was right the first time: she can find someone else to whore herself out to. Someone else will want her far more.

gunmetalgrey

They have played this as a game. They have even relived this situation without the facade, Yan leaving Alex to sit and feel nothing for a few hours. Sometimes days. Because when the melancholy hits after the adrenaline rush, it’s hard to predict how it will wax and wane.

And yet tonight there’s something in the fire as it flickers that… when it hits the grey light of Alex’s eyes just right…

There’s emotion as she speaks.

“Don’t. Don’t.”

It’s a whisper, invading Yan’s thoughts in a way Alex hasn’t done before. And something about its echo is… younger. Smaller. Childlike.

“Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

It’s a desperate cry, a heavy sob that is completely hidden by the older vampires cold exterior. The fire has her attention completely, and so powerfully it’s hard to tell if the words are mean for Yan at all. Alex is still, stone and rigid with no sign of the heavy panic that invaded the voice in Yans mind.

“Don’t leave me behind.”

❝ against my better judgement i trust you and i think that says a lot about the state of the world right now. ❞ from the one and only mr sherlock holmes and this is very unserious xoxo

@conzierge

“Fuck the world.”

She narrows her eyes at him, staring from the armchair she had settled in while waiting for him to return home. Here, in a place he was supposed to be safe. Proof she could walk in and out of any space if she needed to. More effective than a warning shot in her book. This way she could have accessed laptops, case files, papers, his pants drawer if she really felt the need. In reality the only part of his home Alex had helped herself to was his own gun, which sat disassembled in the coffee table in front of her. Done so with a gloved hand, of course.

Rolling her eyes, she presses her gloved fingertips together.

“But if you do want to get poetic and shit about it then yeah. You can trust me.”

As if. But no, no there was an angle to some of his smart arse stuff she could see.

“I’m the only one in this game that’s reliable. No mind games. No petty bullshit. I’m here for a job and when that’s done, I’m gone.”

This is what life felt like as a predator. Hunt to kill. Kill to live. Indiscriminate and predictable. Maybe he would appreciate a pattern, or a lack of one when it came to her work. It wasn’t about selfish desire or her own grand schemes simply… the next order. Whether he was stupid enough to call that trustworthy, well, that was his call.

[ sleep ] sender is asleep and reaches for receiver in the middle of the night. also from moa :/

@conzierge

(Modern ish spies stuff??)

There’s a moment.

A split second in the dark where the feeling of any hands against the soft skin of her weakened shoulder can be nothing but a threat. And for that, Alex’s grip goes right for the throat, to cut off any breath an enemy could draw.

She’s not used to sharing a bed with someone who doesn’t mean her harm, or someone who might actually need comfort. It’s there in the right grip around the others neck for a fraction of a millisecond before it softens. Alex sleeps lightly, if at all, so even in the darkness she can recognise the shape beside her.

She wishes she was the type to roll over onto her bad side, to press kisses against the soft golden skin of Moa’s shoulder and ask what the bad dream was about. How nice it would be, to be able to share a loving touch like it was nothing.

Alex is upright in an instant, eyes on the door, guard stance ready. Sleep is vulnerable, and yes she knows the thousand and one safety pre cautions of her own home but every system can be broken at some point. Before Moa can say a word, Alex takes the loaded pistol from there it is tacked beneath the frame of the bed and melts back into the darkness of the curtains, weapon trained at the closed door.

Wordless. Expressionless. Trained.

Paranoia is a romance killer, and a constant friend.

It takes all of this for Alex to remeber that she does actually need to breathe, but she waits with her lungs burning to survey the whole scene. To listen, and process the fact that it is unlikely something external has been the cause before she exhales- safety on and gun lowered.