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announcement!
hey guys! i don't know how many of you are still active and following this blog, but i'd like to let you all know i'm re-purposing it as an indie!vanitas. specifically i'm making it to rp an au with my girlfriend, and i'll be open to rping with others, so if you have any interest please let me know! otherwise feel free to hit that unfollow button <3
Surrender?
Sure to umbrage at the mere notion of falling without a fight, the brunet rises in fragmented seconds that feel like hours due to no more than disorienting measures.
It’s only after a pat of his pockets that the younger finds himself lacking, teeth gnashing in response. His brows furrow and he’s running knuckles along smooth cheekbones that ache from one too many smiles (lost, concaving and amidst an ocean of happiness that hardly makes sense in a misshapen puzzle of hope, faith, and everything parallel to them).
"Not a kid,” spat between gaps of slender digits, his words are coated in restlessness as he lunges forward — only to catch the variable after closing a bit of distance between them. "More like the other way around! Who say’s you’re not lucky I’ve never heard’a you?”
Tucking the wallet away, he crosses his arms.
"Y’know, you’re a jerk! How was I s’posed to know why you look like me with bad hair?"
Maybe this is a bad move. No way to take it back at this point. "So think whatever you want, ‘cause I’m just as confused."
He's incredibly defensive. At first, Vanitas had simply thought that meant he was a lying cunt, and in reality he's just a brash teenager. He rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue. "The world is full of jerks, kid. You gotta learn to live with them or be one of them, or you'll never make it out alive."
With a flick of his jacket, he flashes his gun, but not on purpose. He genuinely is only interested in putting his hands on his hips so he can glance around their surroundings.
"I don't belong in the country," he says with a wrinkled nose and an off tone. "I'm from the city--and my house moved? I'm guessing you've experienced the same thing."
He's not even interested in talking to Sora, really. He just wants to work things out by speaking aloud.
"So, Sora. Tell me a little about my doppleganger."
The worst part of living in Karios is seeing kids who are too much like himself.
Because he hates having to see them in pain like he was. He hates having to understand and relate, he hates seeing them depressed and angry and fighting and selling drugs. And while it's refreshing to see some of them getting off their ass and doing something for a living, he hates seeing those kids sit down at a bar and order a drink from the bartender who hasn't carded in his entire career.
Vanitas puts down his drink. This kid has black hair and blue eyes, akin to himself, and he looks like he's just got the hope beaten out of him. Deflated and angry, monotonous. He knows the feeling.
"Don't think you're old enough to drink," he says quietly. He doesn't lift or turn his head, or give any indication that he's speaking to the other. But it's still obvious that he is. "Y'know, they won't card here, but they'll get you outside when you're drunk off your ass. And then they drive you home to your parents and charge you."
He raises a hand to his lips and turns to get a better look at him. "You got anyone looking out for you, kid?"
No one ever looked out for him. And he would have killed for that question.
For the most part, he does well with feeling disoriented.
Today is no different. Doing his best to take the odd events in stride, he adjusts with knuckles pressing against eyelids that nearly feel raw from their insides and a stomach that just won’t stop lurching with every twist and turn of the road less traveled.
Whether the dream is doing this to him or something else entirely, it’s tough to tell.
The only thing he does know is that nothing is right - and even less so when he’s confronted with a fistful of his shirt in someone’s hand that… looks…
Like a doppelgänger from 2009, or one of those years he can’t specifically recollect.
Briefly, any remnants of oxygen are caught in the pit of his chest - backing up in the brunet’s throat and working up against itself to clog his airways up as much as possible. First a dream about the dark, about an unknown town, and now this? If he’s coming apart at the seams, surely someone could have included a warning!
How he’s officially alone with some deranged lookalike in a barn of all places must be the work of lonesome gods with nothing better to do, or reasons unbeknownst to either. And while he’d like to appreciate the fact that he’s not the only one confused, it just might be better for the two of them if one had an answer for the thousands of questions that force his head to swell. "Whadd’you mean me? Who’re you s’posed to be?”
His voice cracks, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be taken seriously.
And maybe it’s laughable, but there’s some semblance of pure obstinacy through fogging, opalescent eyes. Brows furrowing before he gets a chance to jerk forward with an elbow, he winds up on his ass with heaving shoulders and no air in his lungs.
"You’re the one that looks like a joke!"
Come to think of it, the other male is dressed a whole lot like his brother. The leather, the dark hair, the spidery, dark lashes— but that doesn’t help him ease up in the slightest.
Cute.
Vanitas rolls his eyes and tosses the kid to the ground where their hierarchy is clearer. He's on top. He's above, always. Don't forget it.
Raising an eyebrow, he crouches down and grabs a fistfull of chocolate hair to pull it back and reveal some of the other's face. Just like his, angle for angle, albeit a little younger. Maybe sixteen or seventeen. It's pretty clear he's truthful about not knowing anything about this, and Vanitas has to wonder if this is related to waking up in another town.
"Shut up, kid," he mutters. He's a bit deflated, now that he knows this one is innocent. Vanitas makes sure his arms are pinned before he reaches around to the kid's ass and pulls out his wallet. And then he stands up, towering a few inches over him as he glances through its contents.
"Sora," he says. "You're lucky I've never heard of you."
He tosses the wallet back.
"If you know anything about this, I suggest you speak up now. I know when people are lying. So, be nice."
like for starters~
”In alleyways like this?” Hardly recognizing the voice as her own, she finds it difficult to discern what’s what when getting caught up amidst crooked thoughts that leave the blonde looking quite like an anomaly. Before him, she stands simply and with complication - a contradiction with silken hair and glass eyes.
A break between words; done merely to clarify for the other. "I meant…" Before any further slip-ups, they’re already heading down the block and it’s no question that she’s struggling to keep up. Endurance has never been her strong suit, but Naminé steadies her breath and takes longer, easy strides. "Oh. It must have taken a lot of work to come into a place like this one."
It’s a compliment, connotation notwithstanding.
”Paralia, yes. I work at a flower shop there. It’s why I was making a delivery here. Everything was running late today, so…” Lower lip falling behind her top row of teeth, she nods accordingly. "Of course!" She knows the way back from a certain point, anyways.
So she wonders, if only for a second, what it is that separates her from the types he held off.
She's different. While not the most original reason, it certainly is the answer; he's not one for monotony, and a girl like Namine in a sea of Karios is interesting to him. If she knew he thought of her as an attraction she probably wouldn't want to be around him.
Still, he has the upper hand here, leading her into his car without hesitation and hoping she'll follow. It's not exactly smart, entering a stranger's car, but Paralia citizens seem to be trusting enough to walk off a cliff if their friend told them there was excitement on the bottom.
"A flower shop," he nearly laughs, corners of his mouth tilting up as he pulls away from the spot. "Jesus, you're straight out of a movie. I mean, jobs are important and all, but damn."
He shrugs his shoulders a bit, and when they leave the city, it feels like he's leaving part of his body behind. "So, uh. You gonna need to do that more often? Because I dunno, if I have nothing to do I could be an escort or whatever." What the fuck is he saying? Carrying some little girl from place to place so she can deliver flowers? Fuck. He's lost it. "If you want."
What better way to wake up than to sunlight?
To Vanitas, literally any other way is preferable. Which is why he situates his bed in the corner of the room, away from the rising sun every morning. So why is he waking up to the sun rising through the window near his bed? Groaning loudly, he rolls over to close the blinds...
...And almost shits himself.
Where the fuck is he? Paralia? It's certainly not the goddamn city, that's for sure. With a look of shock and disgust, he races downstairs, thrilled as all hell to see that his grandfather is out.
Out where, though. That's the question.
He grabs his leather jacket without thought, even though the second he steps outside he realizes he doesn't need it. It's fuckin' hot here, and his heart is already racing a mile a minute, sending jolts of hot magma down his spine. This is too much. This is terrifying, and he never thought that being separated from his throne would cause such panic.
He has no idea where he's going, either. Somehow he ends up in a town square, surrounded by old buildings and fields for miles. A crowd of civilians is begging the law enforcement to let them pass, because the road leading out of town is blocked. Vanitas is picked up in this whirlwind too fast for him to even comprehend what's happening. And right when he's about to march up to the enforcer and sock him straight in the jaw, his eye spots something remarkable.
A boy. Who looks identical to him.
Immediately, he sees it as a threat. And his already fired-up mind takes it offensively, so without thinking, he rushes through the crowd and grabs the boy's collar to drag him into one of the buildings. It's small and abandoned and dark, and smells like cow shit.
This is why he doesn't leave Karios. But it looks like he doesn't have a choice.
"What the hell are you supposed to be?" he spits in the boy's face, pinning him to the wall, not caring about any injuries he may have caused. "Is this a joke? Please tell me this is all some sick prank."
His hand isn’t just an offer— it’s an anomaly that she hardly expects. With that said, the girl doesn’t leave her home with an answer to scenarios like this one. Not that anyone else does, it’s just… The bouquet is in disarray, hardly salvageable and her brows crease at the comprehension of that fact.
Even so, she finds a way to keep everyone away from the blame. ‘It’ll be alright’. Right?
”I mean, you’re really going out of your way, I don’t feel right just…” Intruding? What exactly is more rude? Declining such a kind opportunity or leaving him out of the trouble overall?
A beat of reluctance leaves them at an impasse, but the blonde comes to terms with heeding his warning and takes him up on it. "I’m really sorry, again. Really." Two steps closer and she’s starting to discern his features - he looks a few years older than herself, tougher, stronger… capable. Altogether, she’s not surprised that the others left while they still had the chance. But where does that place her?
”Would it be okay if I asked if you spent a lot of time around here?”
She seems so fragile; looking at him as though he's a sharp knife, apologizing again and again for something she hasn't done. Vanitas has never in his life met someone more blameless and innocent, and yet she can't stop thinking that she's caused him an inconvenience. It's odd, really.
"I live here," he says simply. They head down the block, where Vanitas knows he has one of his cars stashed in another alley. He has cars everywhere, just in case, and because he can get them from whomever he wants. "I guess you could say I control a lot of the area. So you don't have to worry about anyone hurting you."
He can't control everyone, but he can certainly try, and he does his best.
"You're from the country, right?" He can tell. The way she dresses, her accent. It's all tell-tale of someone who hasn't ever had to deal with the inner city. "I know my way, sort of. You'll have to direct me."
Shouldn't be an issue if she wants to get home.
starters? c:
Why apologize? Frankly, the blonde has a few suggestions on just how much she has to apologize for— but for the life of her, none make their way past dry lips.
It isn’t the first time that answers ghost around the tip of her tongue before making their way back down her throat and anywhere but the girl’s thudding mind.
And really, while she may be quiet— her head is anything but. "Oh, well…" Where to start? What is it that makes these things so difficult? He doesn’t look terribly older than her, after all. It can’t be that bad to offer a simple enough grateful nod and be finished with it all. "I just know that I sort of interrupted—"
Her breath is cut short. "Whatever it was you were doing, that’s all." The guilt leaves a bad taste in her mouth. "You don’t have to do anything, really! I don’t want to trouble you any further."
Though she does appreciate the offer…
He doesn't know why she's so embarrassed. Helping her hasn't exactly ruined his day; in fact he feels a lot better knowing those idiots didn't get a chance to hurt someone on his territory without permission. What this girl deserves is a good payment for those flowers and a safe trip home.
But the trains have stopped running by now. Does she expect to bike all the way back herself?
Vanitas bites his lip as he listens to her stutter, and holds out his hand. "Don't worry about it. C'mon, I'll drive you home."
He's a gentleman when it comes down to it; or when it comes to innocent girls, wandering the streets by themselves.
"It's not safe here, anyway," he says quietly. Even now, he can practically taste the lurkers' intentions through the shadows around them. "They won't mess with you when I'm here."
New night, same business.
Maxwell was just lighting a cigar to a fruitful day of establishing once again his little square of ground into the local drug cartel, when he saw the approaching kid in the corner of his eye. Did I say approaching? More like making a beeline in long strides. Maybe Maxwell wasn’t the best judge of character, but damn if two things didn’t raise an eyebrow; the kid was fairly obviously on a warpath, and who knew who he thought he was to strut himself in there like that. It was like watching a mouse charge right into the lion’s mouth.
And why not, he might use a laugh.
So Maxwell offered him a most amiable smile through a cloud of light blue smoke. “Sure, pal. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
"Name's Vanitas," he introduces with an air of arrogance, because he doesn't really want to lower himself to the level of an old guy running a strip bar. He runs far more than that, after all, even if it's in the shadows. "And I'm not very happy."
What does he have to lose, anyway? Certainly not his pride; that's safe and secure, no matter what he does. So he sits himself down, uncaring if he's welcome or not. This is his domain. He's going to damn well claim it.
"You see, grandpa," he starts off, a cheeky little smirk lining his lips, "I run this place. And you might own it, but you've got nothing on my investment. Do you know how many opperations I see through here a night, happening because of me?"
Well he should. "It's a decent amount. You're in my space. Time for you to leave."
soroyry i have Been on mini haitus ;u;/// i'm back!! now!!! and will do starters <3
As per the norm, he is surrounded by his entourage at the bar. The same bunch of squalling girls who follow him all over town. Groupies, stalkers whatever you call them. Annoying certainly fits. All along the bar they’re strung in an obnoxious fashion around the popstar. The Cobra is dead center, leaning back against the bar, drink in hand, obviously basking in the attention. He doesn’t hide from anyone. Not the fans. Not rivals. Not even paparazzi. Even the bodyguards are out and he hardly ever has them around.
Even though the ladies surrounding him are quite loud he doesn’t miss that aggressive tone above all their noise, the insult slung in his direction. The nerve. Billy passes his drink to a girl standing next to him who proceeds to squeal about it like it’s some kind of trophy or a thousand dollars.
"Rude, dude." Really what was the damage here? "I’m not sure what your beef is bro but so sorry—” No he isn’t. Blatant sarcasm twists and interlaces his words. ”—that these fine ladies are just having a good time and that it’s ruining your inability to consume a drink.” He gives the other a scrutinizing glance, up and down. Alcohol makes one braver or maybe it makes one stupider.He’s feeling a lot braver than normal.
"And unless you run this place, I have a right to be here as much as you. Seeing as you seem to be the only one with the problem here, why don’t you leave? Now, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to drink and have a good time but you’re ruining the atmosphere. Just looking at you is making me sober as shit so—" He gives that insufferable, smug grin before taking back his drink and waving a hand dismissively.
This definitely qualifies as taking out the trash.
Vanitas slips the bartender a twenty; he always does, when he's about to get into shit. It keeps his profile low and his repair costs lower, allowing him to prowl bars more efficiently. This idiot is really hurting his chances.
No one waves a hand at him like that.
"I basically do run this place," he drawls with a bit of a grin, making his way over while he unzips his jacket. "Funnily enough. I run this whole district now that I think about it. You've run into the wrong guy, y'know that?"
He flips back his jacket and reveals something shiny--
--A pistol.
The women surrounding the pop star stare. "I figure I don't have to convince you. Unless we need to take this outside, huh, hotshot?"
One moment she’s standing and waiting for her train to come, and the next she’s falling and subsequently landing on her butt. With everyone staring too? Marvelous. A marvelous way to round out the day. It was already 9 pm, an incredibly late day for her, this was certainly not the time for these strange encounters to be occurring.
But at least he offered to help her up! Pah — Serena was in rare form, exhausted AND now she’d definitely be sore in the morning. He certainly didn’t look like much but he had been going pretty fast…momentum, velocity? Something from science that she really hadn’t paid much attention to that day. Serena took his hand anyhow, and pulled herself up. She had let out an irritated sigh as she dusted off her skirts; it was late, as she was reminded by the now chilly air, so perhaps she wouldn’t unleash the beast on this guy all at once.
"It’s fine," She huffed and had paused for a moment, mulling things over.. No, no she couldn’t just stop there! She couldn’t just have this guy plowing into people all willy nilly! So Serena squared her shoulders and crossed her arms, "But I doubt you just didn’t see me, to be very frank and clear, so I will only…half accept your apology! But nevertheless, you should really be more careful I mean really, you cannot just go around bumping into people smaller than you. That is preposterous and I’ll have you know —”
Serena badgered. And badgered of the injustices that tall people such as himself inflict upon the petite everyday. So much badgering that she didn’t even notice when all of the train goers piled on, and the train eventually pulled out of the station. And only when she finally noticed did her flush of embarrassment and shortness fueled rage disappear leaving her pale, the hurried rambling coming to a screeching halt and her mouth agape.
Judging by the horror that struck her features? This has happened to her before. “Oh, god dammit…”
He stares at her while she rants, unsure how to get a word in edgewise. She's incredibly set on making him feel like shit, isn't she? Vanitas doesn't know how to handle criticism, especially when it's coming from some girl he accidentally knocked down. Sheesh, what crawled up her ass?
And then she misses her train. Excellent. He doesn't feel like it's his fault but he also sort of does, awkwardly shuffling his feet and coughing into his hand when she's finally realized where exactly she fucked up.
"Stuck here, are you?" In Karios. To a country girl, this is probably hell; and this is the worst district in the city, next to where Vanitas usually does his work. "Serves you right. Ranting at me like that--it was an accident."
Still, she's cute. Which might be her downfall, considering she's now occupying an empty subway station with nowhere to go. That was the last train of the night.
"Do you need money for a hotel or something?" It'd be on his conscience the whole fucking week if he let her walk away empty-handed. "Or a taxi. If I give you a hundred will you not look like you're about to punch me in the face?"
Girls. Honestly.
Some people always say that living in a big city lets you meet a ton of celebrities. Vanitas has never exactly been one to worship them, because he doesn't have the time if he's honest. However, he's not an idiot. He knows a super famous pop star when he sees one.
Especially when they're sprawled out at a bar, women fawning over them and causing a huge scene that's disprupting his business for the night.
He has drugs to steal, prostitutes to save, drunk men to hustle. This popstar--god, what's his name? Something Cobra? Sounds like a fuckin' G.I. Joe doll--is taking up all the space to do that, and his bodyguards are scaring away the richer, dangerous ones.
"Hey asshole," he yells over the women's cooing. "Keep it the fuck down and leave. Some of us are trying to have a drink."
Usually, Vanitas completes his tasks without issue. He's essentially allowed to run free through the streets and bars and strip clubs, because no one's ever questioned his authority. That's just how it's been, all this time. Free, rich, broken.
No one is supposed to stand in his way. No one is supposed to tell him he can't beat up a drug dealer, or hustle pool, or pay a prostitute when she hasn't even done anything yet because he wants to see her have a decent meal. He's badass. He's uncontrollable.
But that all stops pretty quickly when one of the places he frequents turns out to be a little more controlled than he would like. Some old guy runs the place, says one of his inside voices. He's cracking down on hustlers and drug dealers, which is a problem, because that's how Vanitas makes his money to eat at the end of the night. Stop raining on his parade, y'fuckin' dinosaur.
He finds the old guy sitting alone in some booth, the dark corner providing plenty of coverage for his intended conversation. "Hey, buddy. I think we need to have a talk."
Vanitas doesn't really like running into people.
The worst thing is when they're obviously doing nothing wrong, and he's the one who stumbles like an idiot into their space, knocking shit over. He really needs to work on his subtlety. He can beat the shit out of someone, sure; but anything requiring finesse, and he's unneeded.
So, when he crashes into this incredibly pretty girl at the train station and knocks her over, a lot of people end up staring at him. Where was he going so fast? How could he possibly treat a woman like that? And normally he'd retort with venom, curling his fists and daring anyone to say anything else. But right now, he's tired.
That's what he was running from, anyway.
He reaches down a hand, because if he doesn't the mob of angry people will decend on him like vultures. "Sorry. I didn't see you."
