[ e x i s t . ]

I was born for war. But from now on, I get to choose who I fight for... and I've decided. I'm fighting for all the people caught up in this damn bullshit!   – KYRIN-0018. [ OC @ isola ]

[heavensmetal]

foxtheft‌:

          “I know it’s a stupid amount.” Kurama huffs, but not unkindly – amused, really since the comment isn’t surprising at all; just the truth if albeit delivered bluntly. “I’m not necessarily regretting my decision since I’d like to use them before they completely wither and die, but I am rethinking how many I grabbed today. I could have gone without a third bag, that’s for sure. Or at least waiting until tomorrow to grab it.” It’s a bit like an over precaution thing, he doesn’t mention. Baser instincts mixed with his habit of stacking plans kicking in and making him prepare for the worst like always, like something detrimental will happen if he let those flowers die in that shop. He does prefer not being wasteful if he can help it, but the flowers at least have a few more days in them.

          “But to answer your question, I do like gardening.” A bit of an understatement, but Kurama does have the ability to hold back mentioning too many things. He’s probably created the image of an overzealous lover of flowers, so might as well play with that angle. He does have grievances to air, having realized he couldn’t find a way to call his mother or get in contact with anyone he knows. “It’s my primary hobby; I just find myself having to start all over now that I’m here, and I can’t really do that until I find an appropriate space for a garden. I’m starting small—hence the cut flowers.” He sighs, having to start over is annoying, but possible. “Planters will be next once I can figure how many of them I can realistically keep in the room they gave me and maybe around the house if the others I live with don’t mind.”

          “You probably didn’t want to hear all that. Sorry for taking up your time and thank you for grabbing the bag.” He didn’t even mean to say all that, but it’s easier to let the words flow when he has plans. He’s so used to explaining everything on his mind to his friends, that it doesn’t seem to be a habit he’s exactly kicked yet. There are benefits to being somewhat open, after all.

– This guy sure likes to talk, huh? You blink a few times as he prattles on, a little surprised but not annoyed necessarily. The only other person you’ve met who talks this much might be that big purple dude you live with. But while this guy similarly doesn’t give you much room to talk, it’s a soft monotone. Nothing loud or particularly grating, and it saves you from needing to talk. He also apologizes for making conversation, and even thanks you for helping. 

You decide you don’t really mind this guy. He’s weird as all hell, but there are worse strangers to be corralled by. 

“You’re fine. So long as I can camp in the lobby of wherever we’re going,” you tell him, sticking to walking under shade when you can. If you can cool off somewhere and wait for the sun to go down, you might be okay. You blink slowly, trying to remember what you were going to say.

“But... didn’t you check the roof of where you’re staying at? If it’s flat you can probably set up shop there. That’s where I started some tomatoes, anyway.”

You look back down into the bag, take in a breath. It’s so different from what you’re used to, so many different smells. So many different kinds of life. You can’t eat flowers, and as far as you’re aware they’re not really all that useful. They can’t be eaten or harvested for any meaningful purposes. But maybe... that’s okay. Maybe there’s a place in this world for things just being nice. This guy sure seems to care about them an awful lot, anyway.

“Hey. What are these little pink ones called? Also, you said you’re using them for something? You’re not gonna like, eat all these, right? There are better options.”

You stare at him expectantly.

[heavensmetal]

deadlockcr‌:

       IT’S A REAL SHAME – everyone was entitled to the most basic of things, even if they had to take it for themselves, so not having a real name didn’t exactly sit right with her. despite being a notorious criminal && gang leader, she tended to have a soft spot for the outcasts of the world – taking in those not wanted && giving them a family they can actually give a shit about. 

      ❝ that ain’t right, k – you should have a name for yerself, even if y’gotta make it on yer own. makes it that much better – means no one had t’name ya an’ you’re yer own person. ❞

       calamity was hers – though she still went by her family’s name of ashe, it was much better than elizabeth. there’s a stubborn pride, however, in keeping that name because she knows her parents’ names would be dragged through the mud with a notoriously wanted criminal as a daughter touting the highly respected ashe family name. one in a list of little things she uses to get back at them for how they treated her.

      engine revs before she moves the bike forward – handled with the expertise of someone who rides motorcycles more than walks as she speeds through the tight passages of the ward to her condo. once at the destination she turns off the bike, gesturing silently for him to follow as she glances around for any prying eyes – leading him up && into her home with little care as to whether anyone was home or not.

       ❝ go on an’ make yerself at home – bathroom’s over there if y’wanna wash up. looks like it’s gonna storm an’ i’m not goin’ out in that – so the couch is all yers, if yer wantin’ it. ❞

       if she’s nice – welcoming && considerate – perhaps she can pull him along, have him work for her (  now that she knows what he’s capable of  ) once she attempts to gain his trust or at the very least make him think she’s just some rogue with grey morals but a heart of gold out to help the small guys. part of that isn’t entirely wrong – though in the end, she’s out to help herself && that’s the bottom line.

– Even as you clean off, Ashe’s words stick with you. They linger. They shake you. 

Being your own person.

You really don’t know how to, or what that means. Your whole life you’ve belonged to someone, to something. And even if you’ve chosen a purpose; to destroy the Empire, to destroy evil as you see it. You’re still defining yourself by them, and what they did to you. You’re using the serial number they gave you and killing the way you were taught. Have you really escaped them at all? Are you free if a significant part of your mind still belongs to them? 

Are you really free if, in a sick way, you still miss something so twisted? 

Who are you? You look at the now clean face in the bathroom mirror, wet hair covering nearly half of it. It’s just… disconnect. You couldn’t answer that question, even if you tried. How could you begin to name yourself? Do you even deserve a real name?

No one has ever made you think about this. Not until her. And that’s why, even if you suspect Ashe has motives of her own for helping you, you want to stick around her. On some level, you think she knows things about being a person that you don’t. And… back then in the alley. You don’t get the sense she was telling you to name yourself for ulterior reasons. It sounded genuine. It felt real. 

You decide if nothing else, you need to find out if she’s dangerous in a real way. If you should interfere. That’s why you’re looking into her. That’s what you tell yourself as you make your way back into the living room. You have some decency and wear an undershirt along with your boxers, hanging the wet clothes you washed the blood out of over the shower.

“Pretty bold, inviting a guy you watched stab someone into your home.” – you say, unceremoniously dropping onto the couch. Your stomach growls loud enough to hear, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Why? What’s in this for you? I wasn’t planning on selling you out to the police if that’s what you’re worried about.”

[heavensmetal]

imprecationed‌:

It takes a moment for her to catch her breath, a hand at her sternum and eyes a bit glassy. Eating takes a lot out of her, and Chuck is left in this uncomfortable state of shame about what she’s done. Moving a bit, she scoots away from the blood on the floor, shedding the outer layer of her clothing until the blood is minimal. 

She turns her head and pulls the cloth mask back up, letting the other clear everything out while she tries her best not to breathe through her nose. There’s a delicate nature that seems to find her just after a feeding, and all Chuck can do for a few moments is shiver and feel terribly about what she’s done.

However, the idea of cleaning up sounds good, and she takes the cloth and scrubs at the exposed parts of her face until it’s clean and pink from her effort. It removes some of the smell, and she’s grateful that the coppery odor isn’t overwhelming her once again. 

“Thanks, I uh, I’ll have to leave and change soon, just so I don’t, don’t have trouble again. You know?” It’s a stuttered and nervous explanation, but Chuck manages to spit it out, tangling her fingers in her hair and tugging on it. The questioning of her curse makes her think for a moment, and at first, all she can manage to do is shrug at Kyrin.

“I was born like this. It uh, it was a weird hereditary thing.” That’s the best way she can describe it, without telling a properly sad story. 

– You turn back to listen to her when she starts speaking, eyebrows raised in a neutral expression as she gives her shaky explanation. You get the sense that she’s ashamed of herself for what just happened, which, you think is just a damn shame. She’s got a level of control that, frankly, you’re jealous of. So what if she bit that carcass all to pieces? So what if she made a mess of this cabin? It wasn’t you, and it wasn’t another human being. That’s all that really matters. 

Then she tells you she was born like that. She’s grown up having to manage urges that would make most people’s head spin. You can only imagine how isolating and terrifying being saddled with such a burden is, let alone as a kid. You light up another cigarette. 

“We can get headed back now, if you want,” you tell her, looking out towards the woods. “I’m pretty sure if that gunshot didn’t kill your double she’d be here already.” 

You pause, hanging out in the doorway as not to fill the cabin with smoke. 

“... She wasn’t strong like you are, you know,” you say, hands tucked in your pockets. “You care about your actions, and as far as I’m concerned that counts for everything. So... Don’t feel like you two are the same.” 

You know all too well there are men out there with glistening teeth & shiny suits who are worlds more monstrous than she’ll ever be.

[heavensmetal]

foxtheft‌:

          For now, Kurama gets paid for his time in flowers, an easy enough task to accomplish since he’s decided to lend a hand to a family owned florist for a short while. He tells the owner of his expertise, makes bouquets for the day, and tends to smaller errands and helps customers when needed. He gets his picks of anything he likes that close to wilting and hasn’t been bought yet, so he ends up leaving with three paper bags full of flowers – more than he expected, but useful all the same. He has to start remaking his own collection of teas and remedies anyway, not sure what he can trust that isn’t made right in front of his eyes, not here anyway. If that means being overburden for a day or two until he’s satisfied, then so be it.  

          However, perhaps today he was a bit overambitious; it’s hard to balance three bags with only two arms, and he fears being too rough and damaging the plants. Too bad the city is fairly packed and fairly busy at all hours, so he gets jostled in a way that’s expected but bothersome just the same. When a bag starts to slip and threaten to fall, that isn’t surprising, but Kurama would rather not have it happen in the middle of a sidewalk of all places.

          So, he turns to the closest person to him and plays up the frazzled look just a bit if only to seem less annoyed than he actually is at himself if anything. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but if you could please grab one of these bags for me, I’d appreciate it.”

@heavensmetal, s.c.

– Summer on this planet is hot, and so once you’ve left your apartment your first goal is usually to return.  The metal that lies underneath your skin is slowly but surely retaining heat, and while you don’t believe you’re reaching the event horizon of what you can handle, it is getting to the point where you’re not as alert as usual. So, your first response to being talked to is to ignore it altogether. People don’t usually approach you anyway, mostly on account of looking fairly unapproachable. But you do like to keep track of your surroundings, and, upon looking over your shoulder you make eye contact. You notice the bag on the ground, and the look of expectation on the other guy’s face. Oh. Oh, he was talking to you, wasn’t he? 

“... Oh. Shit, uh. Yeah, sure,” you didn’t hear what he said. But he looks like he’s having trouble with those bags so you take one. It’s not heavy at all, and so you take a glance. What exactly is causing this guy so much grief? 

Aroma hits you like a fucking freight ship, and you blink twice. It’s all... flowers. What? You look up to the other bags, which you can see the faintest bits of foliage poke out of. You furrow your eyebrows. What in the world is he planning on doing with this stuff? 

“... Sooo. You uh, you like gardening? Or somethin’.” Really? You feel dumb as soon as the sentence leaves your mouth. There’s no way these things are going to grow. You’re not great at gardening, but even you can tell when plants have been snipped. 

“This is a lot of flowers, I mean. Like. Just a stupid amount of flowers.” You’ve never seen this many in one place or so many kinds. Back at the base they really only made room for beneficial things like edible plants, and you only ever saw the urban parts of Mars. You stare at some tiny pink ones just chilling out on top and decide you like those ones the best. 

[heavensmetal]

iuvantesequis‌:

      ▲ ❝ Hmm…! I think that is a good start. Though, I think it would be more prudent to approach others that seem troubled or have verbalized their need for assistance whether to another or simply aloud to themselves, ❞ the blonde begins her reply, smiling as she does so.

      ❝ You can also try and make flyers advertising your services! I think that may be easier than the previous suggestions I have offered, ❞

– That’s sort of what you’ve been doing, albeit in only the most extreme circumstances when people seem to be in real physical danger.  But... as far as you can tell, the Empire doesn’t have reach here. You’re not sure about fliers, but maybe you can stick around for the smaller stuff? You aren’t wanted for anything here, yet.

“Uh, sure. I’ll try that.”  

“Um. Thanks. For... talking to me?”  That’s a real dumb thing to say. But it’s what you feel.  “I’m kind of new at this- here. I’m new here. So... thanks.”

[heavensmetal]

imprecationed‌:

Despite the shared experience in something most would consider bonding, Chuck is still surprised when the other responds to her greeting. Blinking owlishly and kicking her feet through the water, she lets the other talk, content on focusing on the drag of her limbs through the water, before trying to put a reply together.

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on dying, so this is a pretty good turn out. Alive, and not looking any different than I did when I started.” It’s half a joke, offered because she just can’t think of something else that she wants to say in response. It had been frightening, and the idea of losing herself, still as a monster, into another place where she couldn’t remember home, that was more than she had ever wanted.

The question about her eating prompts a shrug. “I’m always hungry, it’s part of the curse. But I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring it. Eat once a day and I’m fine for the most part.” Until she goes into a tizzy and eats her body weight in meat, but she doesn’t talk about those days. They’re embarrassing, she’d say. “I usually just get cheap stuff.” 

It works out, getting things on clearance and the cheapest cuts she can find. But, there’s a matter of taste. Even in that unhinged state she falls in to, things close to being off and those cheap pieces leave a bad taste in her mouth. Oh well, a meal is a meal.

“I-I will, there’s a butcher here that’s uh, not asking questions, and the price isn’t bad. If I get a decent job, I can probably find a better place, more options, you know?” 

– You give a tiny smile at her joke, despite not really finding the humor in it. You did at least manage to register it was a joke, and so you smile. It doesn’t feel authentic, but you want to be friendly. You never have been much of a conversationalist, really. Always getting straight to what you’re thinking unless you’ve got something to hide. It’s always been that way, but you only become aware of how inept you are with others when you make an attempt to be friendly with them. Now doesn’t feel much different but... it doesn’t feel as bad with Chuck. And that’s worrying.

You’ll leave in a few minutes.

“Yeah well, you should probably eat more than once a day. Most people have like, two or three meals you know,” you start, realizing your tone is just a little off. You back up real quick. “I mean, you know your limits better than I do. But still. It’s okay to lean on your friends. They’ll help you out.” 

You pull your legs up to your chest, resting your arms on your knee, and your head on that. You deflate a bit.

“If I hear of any good jobs I’ll message you. I’m not cut out for a lot of ‘em, but I bet you’d probably do okay.” 

[heavensmetal]

deadlockcr‌:

      IN HER LINE OF WORK she’s learnt to sus out the weak willed – those who can’t go through with certain things required of them – but she’s also learnt to find those who she can mould the way she wants. it was one little story – albeit truth this time – that set this person to carry out a murder. oh, make no doubt about it, this particular corpse deserved it – but she could have easily been lying, he never asked for proof or clarification, never asked the guy on the ground for his statement. 

       she liked that in a person – for her own gain.

       the viper just presses her boot firm in place on the man’s neck as the other goes about ending his life. it’s not her style – she liked a clean shot to head when she was going for an execution – but she can’t say she’s never stabbed someone to death in an alleyway behind a bar before (  whether that was for her life or for a score, well, that was her own little secret  ).

       cigarette is inhaled one last time as red eyes simply watch – smirk never leaving her lips – smoke drifting from her mouth as she bends over to press the lit end into the now deceased body beneath her.

       ❝ that he would – girl in there’s lucky i got such a sharp eye. ❞

      things like this don’t phase her anymore – not when she doesn’t know the person – death was but a means of getting what she wanted at this point, had it been one of her gang who’d committed no wrongs against her then that would be a death that could haunt her. this ? this was just karma working its ways against the guilty.

      ❝ sure do. how about we take this lil’ meetin’ a’ ours back to my place an’ you can get yerself cleaned up. name’s ashe, by the way. ❞

       there’s an abandoned lot she has her eye on though she’s not about to bring someone she’s just met to a place she wants to use – her condo would do because as far as it’s concerned she cares so little for it. her boot leaves the body on the ground, shoving it further from view of the street then shaking off the blood on it before she starts walking toward the rented motorcycle she’d had nearby for transportation around the ward – getting on, starting it && revving the engine.

      ❝ hop on before people start comin’ ‘round to snoop. ❞

– While you still haven’t ruled out what kind of person Ashe is just yet, for the moment you both seem to be on the same page. You’re surprised that she’s decided to go as far as letting you into her home to clean off, given that you just asked for advice. You don’t trust her, but at the moment she’s your fastest ticket to safety, and you are nothing if not an opportunist. You follow her out of the alleyway, pulling the hood up on your jacket and slipping on a black cloth mask. Sure, you’re covered in blood, but that doesn’t mean you have to flash your face around.

“Sounds like a plan. You can call me K, if you want. I don’t have a real name.” Not a lie. KYRIN is just the project name you and your fellow soldiers were made under. You don’t even know its real significance. Any research you tried to do on it always turned up... empty. Like people, information had a funny way of going missing in the Lunar Empire. Like this guy is going to go missing by your hand. 

You take a quick look over your shoulder at the lump of a body left in the alleyway. You don’t say anything, or show any signs of emotion outside of a distant stare. In reality, you’re taking a minute to absorb it, the thing you’ve done. You don’t linger long before swinging your leg over the bike, causing it to give a creak because despite your small frame you are quite heavy. 

You choose to sit on the back of the bike, holding onto the seat with calloused hands. You don’t feel comfortable enough to hold onto her, so you don’t move to do so. Instead, you quietly ride along the thrum of a motor comforting and familiar. 

[heavensmetal]

"Do you believe in life after death?" She asks it so nonchalantly but the weight is still there. "I mean actual death, too. Not of the mind, though similar, but of the physical body. Where do you think your soul goes, if you even believe you have one at all."

– You’re not used to people really paying much mind to you, much less to ask you something so… abstract. It’s a little unnerving, and you have to wonder why she’s asking. You’ve seen many things since you crash landed in this place, but you still aren’t imaginative enough to assume you’re talking to God right now.

Even so, you suppose there’s no harm in answering her.

“I don’t know,” you say, looking up to the void above. Space, despite all of its wonder, was always cold and lonely. When you cried out for help, when you begged for someone to save you, no god or angel was there. But people, as terrible & wonderful as they might be, were. Everything good and beautiful that you’ve seen has existed in ordinary people.

“Part of me hopes that when we die it’s not the end. At least, for the people who deserve to exist.” – That is to say, if heaven exists, you hope people like you get shut out. You hope there’s a world where Nineteen, Dolly, and Bruce can have everything they deserve. A place that will shelter them.

“Heaven’s never given me much of a reason to think it exists. But I hope it does.”

If it does you’ll never see it, and you know that. But you want the best for the people you’ve loved. It’s the only wish you have.

[heavensmetal]

honey & lemon or milk & sugar  //  musicals or plays  // lemonade or iced tea //  strawberries or raspberries  //  winter or summer  //  beaches or forests  //  diners or cafés  //  unicorns or dragons  // gemstones or crystals  //  hummingbirds or owls  //  fireworks or sparklers  //  brunch or happy hour  // sweet or sour  //  rome or amsterdam  //  classic or modern art  //  sushi or ramen  //  sun or moon  //  polka dots or stripes  //  macaroons or croissants  //  glitter or matte  //  degas or seurat  //  aquariums or planetariums  //  road trip or camping trip  //  colouring books or watercolour  // fairy lights or candles

tagged by:  janet from hr  tagging: @deadlockcr @iuvantesequis @imprecationed @tagor-gor @huntsmandotphd

[heavensmetal]

shadowedstep‌:

heavensmetal replied to your post:

OH MY GOD

(GO ON GET IN [picture of microwave] SINCE YOUR ASS WANNA ACT METAL)

“NO!!!!”

[heavensmetal]

sangosquid‌:

くコ:彡 ~  “…I wish I had even just a little more cash.”

“Hey!!” – you overheard them as you were walking by, and almost didn’t stop. You don’t have a lot in your bank account, given you don’t have a job just yet. You falter though, because you pretty much just yelled at this kid without further context. You were just trying to get their attention but, well. Being intense as a default has its drawbacks. 

“You... you need money? Like, how much?”

You open the wallet app on the weirdly heavy device from your pocket. Oh good, there’s a transfer function. 

[heavensmetal]

iuvantesequis‌:

     ▲ ❝ I am not entirely sure of their names… I have only heard whispers and talks of others making organizations for ‘heroes’ or ‘detectives’, or even those wishing to join the police force here… ❞ and while she smiles at the stranger, she notices the hint of curiosity and dedication behind his eyes.

     ❝ Though, you do not need to join any group in order to do good deeds. If you would like to, then I am sure there will always be people grateful for the help! ❞

– You shrink back a bit, because the questions that are on your mind seem like they should be obvious. Like you should know the answers already, but you don’t. Something about her smile makes you feel guilty. You don’t deserve that.

“So... like, what? I just walk up to people and ask them if they need help with anything?” Sounds like a good way to start creeping people out. “I mean, I can try?”

[heavensmetal]

iuvantesequis‌:

      ▲ ❝ It makes me very happy to see and hear of others making an effort to assist others… Especially as to go so far as to make organizations dedicated to the cause! I pray that this will continue as time marches on, ❞

– “Which organizations are you talking about?” You ask, and maybe a little too quietly. Mostly because you’re hesitant to believe you’ll actually be useful in helping others outside of being a fighter. “I’ve got a lot of time on my hands, so...”  

[heavensmetal]

steppesarcher‌:

@heavensmetal

 “Huh? This is easy. Where is the difficulty of this game? It was a classic pin and hola hoop game, alas due to his agility he hits all the pins straight away. Causing him to his the biggest prize, the giant teddy bear the same size as him. 

– Wow. Not too shabby at all. You whistle as the pins go down, crossing your arms. You were assigned the same housing as this guy, and so you decided to... maybe say hello? See what he was doing? Is this how being a human being works?

“They probably didn’t design it with big guys like you in mind. Actually... I think it might be for kids?” – You’re not sure. You’ve never been to a festival of any kind, at all. You were raised in a pretty sterile, isolated environment.

You look up at the teddy bear he has. “It’s cute. You gonna keep him in the living room?”

[heavensmetal]

imprecationed‌:

The time spent alone is spent in a quiet state of half panic, Chuck curling into herself and wrapping her arms around her midsection. She can hear the familiar voice of her father in her ear, that quiet ‘you need to calm down’ talk they had had more than a few times. For a long while, she misses the familiar weight of her dog leaning his oversized body across her lap, and feels a bit like crying the whole thing out.

And she does, at least for a minute or two. By the time her eyes sting and her face is a bit blotchy, she’s done, and finally settles herself with gasping breaths that make it feel like she just finished choking. It’s just in time, it seems, given that the other makes a reappearance a few minutes later, just as she finishes rubbing at her eyes.

“I’m ali-” she can’t say anymore, when the scent finds her. Chuck’s pupils dilate until you can hardly see the rest of her eyes, and her teeth are bared. In an instant, she’s lurched forward, snarling and hissing something terrible as she snatches the corpse from the other.

The entire process is quick and bloody. By the time she’s done, her face and top is bloody, the mess down to the fragments of bones she had not yet consumed. Eventually, she’s pulling back into herself, foggy in her expression and eyes, before rubbing at her temples. It’s like watching someone come back to themselves, and lamp like eyes latch right on to the other.

“I uh, I’m, I think I’m good now.” She can hardly recognize what she just ate, but it seems to be gone to the point where she’s not absolutely wild. “C-Can we get rid of it? I don’t think I can look at it anymore.” 

– She turns in a matter of seconds, and for a second your own pupils narrow into slits as she bares her teeth at you. But you don’t panic, don’t jump as she snaps her jaws to grab at the meal you brought her. Instead, you simply remain calm, standing stock still and watching on as she eats. You’ve seen carnage before, and plenty of dead bodies, but you’ve never seen something ripped apart in this way.

 It makes you wince a bit, but you don’t run. You just stay there, watching on. You note how she didn’t make a grab at you, how even with so much hunger, she still had that level of control. This whole time, she has to have been fighting so hard. 

“Yeah, give a minute,” you say, scraping up the heap that’s left when she asks if you can get rid of it. You toss it out near the stream you found. There’s a bottle in one of your pants pockets, and you fill it up with water, wetting a shirt rolled up in a different pocket. You hand both to her. 

“To wipe off with,” you note, figuring she’d rather not be covered in blood as you walk back to town. You doubt she wants to stay in this hut, cramped and on the floor. You look away to give her privacy, resting against a tiny windowsill. You fit just fine. 

“So... how long have you been dealing with this curse? Seems like a lot to handle.”

[heavensmetal]

imprecationed‌:

@heavensmetal

She had never had the opportunity to go to the community pool before. It was one of those anxiety ridden places, and the fact of the matter was, she was a bit too tall for a lot of the dressing rooms. This had turned out a bit more successful, and subsequently, Chuck had managed to at least show up and sit by the edge of the water, submerging her lower legs and enjoying the cool water. That was all well and fine enough for her, given how big of a step this was. 

Spotting someone woefully underdressed for the pool prompts her interest, and when she recognizes the face, she manages to brighten at least somewhat. Waving to the other in a shy gesture, she doesn’t quite smile, instead, searching the other’s face for any recognition. 

“Nice to see you again- yeah?”

– You hadn’t seen her around for a while, after this world supposedly returned to ‘normal’. Truthfully, you had worried about her after you dropped her back off where she would be safe. You considered texting her, asking how she was doing. If everything was alright. But you didn’t. Most people are better off not knowing you, especially someone nice like her. 

You don’t turn away when she waves to you though. Hesitantly raising your hand you wave back, drifting over. You catch yourself smiling a tiny bit, seeing her here at whatever this party is. This city is a swamp of unfamiliarity, even more so than Mars was, so it’s nice to see a familiar face. It’s nice to see she’s alive, and that she’s out in the world doing what you think must be normal things.

“Yeah. Nice to see you made it through whatever the hell that was,” you say, referencing the latest catastrophe in Spirale. You’re still not clear on the details of how. You sit down on the ground next to her, crossing your legs. The smell coming off the water is nice, and the people who are swimming actually look like they’re having a lot of fun.

“How have you been holding up? You’re eating enough, right?”

Mm. Maybe you shouldn’t bring that up here. Or at all. You rub the back of your neck, thinking maybe it would have been better if you didn’t come over. 

“I mean, I know meat can get expensive. If you need help just ask, okay?”

That’s a stupid thing to offer if you’re keeping a distance. Also you don’t have a job. Or dust. You’ve been mostly living off the absurd amount of sweets your giant purple baking machine of roommate keeps pawning off on you. But... it would be bad if she wasn’t eating well. So you offer.

[heavensmetal]

deadlockcr‌:

       THE TIDES CERTAINLY CHANGE – surprising her in the way he shifts from questioning to joining in. it’s not surprise in a normal way, rather there’s a thrill seen behind red eyes that holds nothing but pure amusement as the end of his cigarette pulls screams from the man on the ground.

       heel is dug into his side as she just laughs then takes a drag of her cigarette – taking the smoke in over a long moment before letting it out slowly. it’s a change in pace – asking why she hasn’t killed him yet – in this place that doesn’t make clear what side its on. it’s a trip in nostalgia back to her gang – not anything big in memory, just the notion of anyone spurning her on in the things she did despite the legality of it – && she misses her boys.

       ❝ well, well, well – not what i thought you were gonna ask. ❞

      the gunslinger steps back again, heel leaving the man on the ground only to reel back before kicking him over with force – foot pressed against the crook between throat && collar bone. she’s not opposed to murder, she’s snuffed out enough lives over her years that it barely phases her anymore. it was an idea to let him live only to make sure he feared ever messing with another woman again but she wanted to see if her new alleyway companion had it in him to actually kill this walking waste of air.

      ❝ you wanna do the honours then, sugar? i’ll hold him down for ya. ❞

– You glance up at her to observe her expression and note the glee in her eyes as she causes pain. Of course, you’re no different. This man has likely caused numerous people suffering, and if left to his own devices will continue to do so for the rest of his miserable life. The reason you find joy in his pain, in his death, is because he has inevitably come to reap what he has sown. But is it the same for her? You have to wonder.

The relationship you’ve had with murder, with death, has always been one riddled with complexities and contradictions. At one point, in one way, it was just a game. At another, it was as if hell had arisen into the cosmos to smother you alive. What is certain is that from the time you were born there was no other path for you than the path of destruction. However, you have reclaimed your right to destroy how you see fit. You have decided to destroy the destroyers. It’s your way of atoning, of using this awful body you have for something good. So of course you don’t hesitate. Not for a single second. 

The knife plunges, once, twice, and once more. You aim for the vitals, you do not relent or waver. You make it quick and simple. You do not have the means to provide painlessness. 

You crane your head to look her in the eyes as you stand, blood smattered over your face.

“Guys like this are better off dead,” you say. “He’d just go on to hurt someone else, and he’d probably get away with it too.”

You don’t quite feel real, right now. You blink as thunder rolls on the horizon. You should go inside soon before you become a lightning rod, but there’s no way you can go in anywhere looking like this. Much less ‘home’. 

“You know a good place to clean off?”

You’re under the assumption she’s been here a while. You pause, wondering if maybe you should introduce yourself, or if you should see how nice she plans on being first.