[isaac-and-kohl]

liz-bateman‌:

Liz was not a patient woman. To her, waiting for anything was completely pointless, especially when you had magic to speed everything up. But this was different. Just now, she was happy to wait. Pacing in front of the newly erected cell, heeled boots clacking on the cement, glaring down at poor, little Isaac. These weeks without her best friend by her side had driven her insane, or at least, slightly more insane than she already was. She’d never been so bored, finding that killing off members of HR was nowhere near as fun when completed solo. But luckily, it turned out Amara had felt an absence as well, and so Liz was given full control to launch a rescue mission. Or a manhunt. Actually she wasn’t so sure what it actually qualified as, though that didn’t matter now. Originally her plan was to find surges of electrical energy throughout the city to track down Isaac, but then Liz found out he was working at the Gamble, so she just had the goons abduct him from there.

Now came the tricky bit, how to get Kohl out. Liz figured it was alright to have some trial and error, just as long as she healed his body after, Kohl would actually kill her if she fucked up his body anymore than it already was. Maybe she’d just zap his brain a few times, or insert something into his ear, or… Her thoughts were interrupted from a rustle within the cell, eyes lighting up as she watched Isaac struggle. She kinda understood now why Kohl hated him so much. “Hey Isaac! Long time no see! Or, never seen. Anyway, baso, you’ve had this body for a bit too long and Kohl is a very dear friend of mine and I want him back. So why don’t you make this really easy and just relinquish control and then I’ll have to open this cell really quickly cause Kohl would hate this.” She said while giggling, arms happily crossed against her chest. 

Isaac runs a hand over his face, pain blooming in the back of his head where there’d been an impact, some blunt object forcing him unconscious. Now he suffered the hangover of the hit, mixed with the shaking ache of his bones from who knows how long without a high. Joints feel stiff as he moves, eyes watching the woman who looked all too delighted to see him in pain. His stomach turned, the nausea hitting him all at once, and he retches, as if his stomach were trying to escape his body. He heaves, his stomach empty already, and a cold sweat breaking across his pale skin. 

Eyes drag up towards the woman as the heaving slows, eyes bloodshot and tired. Kohl. Of course this all had to do with Kohl. “I didn’t know he even had the capacity for friends.” He spat out, hatred seething from every word. He’d worked to put as much space between him and whatever life Kohl had made for himself while he was in control, but there he was, forcefully dragged back into it. He shifts himself from all fours to a seated position, leaning his back against the side of the cell, not bothering to even try to stand--he didn’t think his shaking legs would hold him at the moment. God, the feeling was all too familiar, almost like he’d never left his cell all those years ago.

“There is no way in hell I’m letting Kohl come out.” He sneers at her, as if he had such control. The truth was, his heart was starting to beat faster out of fear. He knew as the withdrawal took hold of his bones, combined with whatever the woman was likely to do to him, he wouldn’t stand a chance. 

[isaac-and-kohl]

He shouldn’t have been surprised to be there. He should have known it was only a matter of time before one of the mercenaries who weren’t too pleased about Gray giving him control of the Gamble turned on him. He’d been asleep on the when they grabbed him, woken by rough hands grasping his arms, his groggy intoxicated state keeping him from being able to fight back. His throat closed in on itself with their hands on him, something shoved into his mouth to keep him silent and a bag thrown over his head. Sparks flew off him, but he was too disoriented and high to control anything. At some point they’d hit him over the head, knocking him out to keep him from struggling. 

Panic wasn’t the right word for what Isaac felt when his eyes blinked open and he felt a sickening familiar texture of cement floor under his cheek and the sight of bars on a cell. He sits up hastily, head suddenly swimming and throbbing from where he’d been hit. A cold sweat breaks over his skin, and he realizes he doesn’t know how long he’s been out, but clearly it had been long enough for the withdrawal to settle into his bones. Eyes darted around the cold cell, his stomach so nauseous that he thought he was going to throw up. It all felt too familiar, and he couldn’t help but feel a shake in his fingers. He looks up, eyes connecting with a woman he didn’t know. His voice came out quiet from his parched throat. “Where the fuck am I? What’s going on?”

@liz-bateman  

[isaac-and-kohl]

veraelwyn‌:

Vera felts helpless as a migraine that throbbed in her temples caged her. The temptation to hide her face into the palms of her hands grew with every passing second. With drivers honking their horns, someone’s conversation to the left became louder, construction a block up. To your left, buses moan and screech to a halt. To your right, tourists chatter as bicyclists whiz by. An ambulance wails in the distance. A trumpet plays. Everything, every sound she loves and that makes this city what is it, Vera begins to loathe. As her thumb and index finger move to either side of her forehead, hoping that would ease the pain. A part of her knows that the movement is useless and that it’s not because of all the noise around her that is creating this pain. Once more, Vera finds the city falls back into a hum. “No, no, no, no…” She whispers. Watery eyes press together, so do her lips. Her back is pressed against the glass window, trying to hold onto reality as it quickly slips away.

Time has passed. There’s no telling how many days or weeks it has been. Her hair felt damp as it sticks to her face. A hard shiver travels up her spin as water drips down onto the new, dry hospital cloth she changed into before coming back to her cell. It didn’t matter what she wore. She was always cold. And sitting in the wettish prison doesn’t help one bit. The boy on the other side… Vera doesn’t know if he feels the chill. He must be used to it. “What’s your name?” She asks the young man who’s trapped like her. She sits in the middle of the cell, while he lay curled on his cot.

She comes back and immediately wraps her forearm around her middle. The queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach increase, the back of her throat tightens threateningly. She tries to control the feeling with deep inhales, but her breathing is already laboured. Vera looks at the scared boy before her. Vera goes to say something to him – something, anything, - Then, her vision begins to swim. The feeling of panic beings like a cluster of spark plugs in her lungs. She can feel the tension growing in her face and limbs. She can hear each of her breaths, rasping just the same as when she had the flu two winters ago. Vera closes her mouth and keeps her hands balled into fists and she stills herself, concentrating on not having a full blown panic attack.

“I’ve had enough. Please, I’ve said I’ve had enough.” The patient surprise herself. From the session she’s just had, she could have figured there would be no noise coming from her. There is, though. It’s hoarse and hardly above a whisper, but it’s there. Because somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that she was taught that she would and always will have a voice. No matter how shaken or broken it sounded. They put fire at her feet - it didn’t unlock her genetics, it only made memories of her family home up in flames bloom before tightly shut eyes. She couldn’t feel any pain until she’s thrown back into her cell. Vera curls into herself. Her eyes find the boy. She blinks slowly.

That’s where she learns all about Isaac. That’s when they become friends. When they decide to help each other. Be there for each other. Talk to each other through the pain. For these quiet moments bring both of them solace. Vera reaches out, seeing his fingers through the bars. The pads of their fingers touch, then Vera envelops her hand around Isaac’s, squeezing softly.

Again, Vera comes back. Reality hit her like a stack of bricks to the back of her head. It’s so damn painful. Vera meets the same blue eyes from the images behind her eyes. These aren’t memories. They can’t be. How can she be through something that she doesn’t remember? She doesn’t want to shout in public, so she slips into an icy demeanor. Cold and harsh. Jaw set, eyes narrowed. Vera pushes off of the glass, standing as tall as she can, ignoring the feeling of her knees wanting to buckle. “Don’t say my name like you know me.” She orders chillingly while giving the stranger an unfriendly stare. “Stay away from me.” Vera points an accusing fingers at him.

Turning her back on the stranger, Vera begins walking in the opposite direction. Her chin is held high, steps are strong. She doesn’t look back. An act to keep her pride and sanity in tact. It dissolves the moment she turns a corner into an alleyway. Pulling her phone from her purse, she looks for a particular number and presses the call number. She hears a voice on the other side of the call, but she can’t pinpoint of it’s a voicemail or if it’s really the person she has called. She talks anyway. “Nicholas…. Nic…” She leans her head against the brick wall and looks to the sky. She’s too afraid of closing her eyes. “I need you to come pick me up. I’m at… Fifth and Water avenue. I…” She licks her dry lips. “Just come, please.”

Time stood still and moved too fast all at the same time. The air that hung between them felt frozen while the rest of the world kept moving around them, Isaac’s eyes still locked on Vera’s. Her face, her voice, it was all the same... it was her. But how could it be? 

Isaac’s body crumples into the cell, completely spent from that day’s session. New burns line his bare arms and hands as he wraps them around his middle, curling into the fetal position on the cold damp floor. His eyes blink open and closed, open and closed, the only thing he seems to be able to keep his mind on. Every part of him aches, his skin and blood on fire with something they’ve injected into him. He wants to throw up, but the effort to do even that seems to great. He can hear the muffled voice of the woman beside him, but he can’t find the energy to answer. Eyes just blink open and closed, open and closed. He doesn’t know how long he lays there, but he remembers Vera being pulled from her cell, their eyes connecting as she’s pulled away for her turn. He tries to muster a smile, but his frail figure just shakes lightly as he lays there. His eyes finally close. He’s not sure how long he sleeps, but when he wakes, he’s regained some of his strength, but Vera still isn’t back in her cell. He crawls into his cot and waits. 

Isaac watches Vera unravel before him, his own body caught frozen in time, small flashes of electricity dancing between his fingers and up his arms. He cannot breath, and is sure that at some point he will just pass out from lack of oxygen, but he doesn’t. He watches her panic, he watches her mind catch up with what she doesn’t seem to remember. She doesn’t remember the horrors they went through--she doesn’t remember him. Isaac swallows, shifting his weight when he suddenly feels that he can move, though his feet still feel like lead. He sees the physical change in her demeanour before her words come out and cut into his gut like a knife. 

She doesn’t remember him. 

Isaac waits, and waits, and waits. Eventually they come back for him, taking him away for another session, this one just as equally horrifying as the last. When he’s thrown back into his cell, he pulls himself up to the bars to peer into Vera’s, but she’s not there. Days pass... weeks... he’s not sure how much time passes, but he knows she’s gone. He’s sure they’ve killed her. He cries for what seems like forever, until he cannot even find the strength to cry anymore. He loses the last bit of hope he didn’t even realize he had. Even the electricity they pump through his veins can’t make him scream. He’s nothing more than an empty shell; a broken boy with nothing left to live for. When they take him from his cell on that last day, he’s sure that this is it. He can feel it in his body, that he cannot take much more, and he’s willing to just give in to the oblivion. Little does he know, when he’s finally surrendered it all, is when Kohl finally manifests. 

Isaac watches Vera turn, and promptly walk away, her figure getting farther, and he can’t find it anywhere in himself to follow her. She doesn’t remember him. She doesn’t know him.  He’s a stranger to her that brings back something she’s clearly worked to forget. His heart drops to his stomach and his head spins until someone bumps into him, sending him turning and running in the other direction. He collides with a few others, hearing various ‘ows’ and curses at him as the static in his body shocks those he comes in contact with. He rounds the corner of an alley where he presses his palms against a brick wall, eyes swimming with memories he’d tried to forget. He slams his hands against the wall as sparks fly off them in frustration. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He breathes out in anger and pain. His breathing is rapid and his heart races as he runs a hand over his face, turning to lean his back into the wall. He lets himself slide down till he’s sitting, knees bent and his face resting in his hands. Tears prickle the corners of his eyes, but he pushes them away, as he works to calm the nausea in his stomach and the spinning in his head. He sniffs and stays there for a few moments, catching his breath. He digs through his pockets, pulling out a small baggy of whatever he has left, and uses it, knowing he’ll regret it later, but also knowing he’d rather have his head swimming in a high than memories. Tossing the baggy aside, he leans his head back, waiting for the high to hit him, working to push back the thoughts that still make him sick. 

She doesn’t remember him. 

@nicholas-everett​

[isaac-and-kohl]

torrcntivl‌:

“Ok…” Her mouth was moving, but she couldn’t hear herself above all the potential danger in the bar and truth be told, she didn’t believe that calling him just as Isaac was fine. Honor could see something darker and more sinister behind him at all times, a glaring fault, larger than any of his others. Normally, she would tuck information like that way, but he was dangerous, too dangerous, even. The last thing that she wanted to do was to disrespect him. “Yes… I, hmm, I, uh, made some more… Mr. Gray asked me and then when the delivery date… it passed, he wasn’t here.” She looked up at again, just to show that she was paying attention. “W-we could. I brought my car to the alleyway… I j-just need to disarm it… Did you want to come?”

“Right, um yeah.” Isaac shoves his hands into pockets, nodding quickly. “Yeah, Gray, he’s not around right now, he’s uhh... dealing with some shit.” Isaac rocked on his heels for a second, chewing on the inside of his lip. The girl seems shy and jittery, which was not unlike his own demeanour. Why Gray decided on him to be in charge of the Gamble, he’d never know, especially since he wasn’t exactly the greatest with people. Eyes pick up a bit when she speaks, and he nods again, glancing back giving a look to one of the bartenders to let them know he’d be right back. “Yeah, I can come help you with that.” He gestures towards the door, as the pair make their way outside. As he follows Honor, he quickly pulls out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag. An awkward silence hangs between them, and though it was not something that Isaac would normally go out of his way to fill, he couldn’t seem to feel the need to in that moment. “So um... how’d you learn to make weapons or whatever.” 

[isaac-and-kohl]

To say that Isaac was thankful to Gray was an understatement. The man had given him an opportunity to make some money, but above that, he gave Isaac a place that had a roof over his head during the night. The back office had become his new home for the time being, crashing on the older couch tucked to one side--it sure beat park benches or breaking into the museum. That evening he sat on the small couch, having just shot up, letting the drugs sooth into his body, making the static in his veins slow. While he’d been working with Aurelia to control his electricity, he still didn’t trust himself to be strong enough alone to resist Kohl coming out. With the drugs carefully tucked away in the back of a bottom drawer on the desk, he let himself relax now. He’d started building up a customer base again, slowly dealing a little on the side knowing he’d need something to fall back on when Gray eventually came back. Isaac let his head fall back, eyes blinking slowly he felt himself dozing off a bit. The moment of peace only lasted a few minutes when his eyes flew open as someone emerged into the office, Isaac standing quickly. Automatically he took a defensive stance, his mind automatically thinking it was one of the mercenaries out to get him. But his eyes were greeted with the sight of a woman he didn’t recognize, with a small child on her hip. Isaac’s shoulders relaxed slightly, brows furrowing in confusion. “Um.. sorry, did you need something?” 

[isaac-and-kohl]

Isaac stood behind the counter, his head groggy and tired. It was late, and the bartender for that evening hadn’t shown up--likely just someone else that had no interest in being around the Gamble with him in charge. So Isaac found himself filling in as a pseudo bar tender, yet another job he knew nothing about. Rubbing his eyes, the few patrons left in the place lingered. Isaac turned his back, grabbing a bottle off of the bar, the familiar itch under his skin of needing something to take the edge off. He hadn’t been able to slip away to the back office in a while, and he felt the nagging that he knew all too well. Grabbing a glass and a bottle of the nearest alcohol, he poured some into the glass, downing it in one swig. He pour himself some more, finishing it again quickly before giving himself a third glass, finally putting the bottle back. Turning back to face the counter, now sipping on his last glass, he spots a girl standing at the bar. “Oh fuck.” He gives a small surprised expression, realizing she’d just witnessed what he just did. “Sorry, what can I help you with?” He grimaced at himself before stepping forward a little closer to the girl. 

@ofvexation

[isaac-and-kohl]

queuedgodd‌:

there were many things that gray did that godrick did not personally understand.  however, as one of gray’s oldest friends, godrick knew better than to sit around wonder about why he did something and just make sure that his friend’s stupid-ass plans did not backfire on him … even if he had to babysit the interim owner of the gamble from the crowd of not-so-happy mercenaries.  he didn’t have to be a clairvoyant to know that bottle was aimed for isaac.  godrick caught a glimpose of the frustration isaac was feeling.  he looked over to the younger man and instructed, “you can’t let them know they’re getting to you.  they’re mercs.  you give them an openining and they’re gonna try and screw you over.  raw, hard and sandpapery.”  he paused, “okay, i'mma show you how to take control of these fuckers and then your donnie darko-ass needs to take charge of this.”  

godrick reached for any empty beer bottle from across the bar.  he looked over at isaac and gave him a wink before he took the bottle and threw directly at the mercenary that tossed the first one.  with a loud thwack, it hit the mercenary in the head and shattered.  "next time you try to kill the kid gray put up for us, i'mma drag you by your got-damned dumbo-sized ears and throw you out on the curb, you ugly-ass merc.“

Isaac looks up to the older man, scowling a little, angry at himself for taking on this position. He had no idea what he was doing and how the hell was he supposed to get any respect from these people? “Easy for you to say.” He shakes his head, slowly bringing himself up to stand behind the counter. “I’m not exactly a very intimidating person.” He shook his head, letting out a bitter ‘ha’ thinking about the fact that Kohl would likely be able to take charge of the place in all of three seconds, though he probably would have ended up killing half the people in a there. “You’re like a fucking giant and I’m just...” He shook his head again, running his hands over his face in frustration. Lips part as he’s about to say something else, but Godrick grabs a bottle and chucks it across the room, causing it to shatter over a man’s head, making Isaac jump. “Jesus fucking christ, dude.” He looks at Godrick with an expression of disbelief and mild amusement. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to do that.” 

[isaac-and-kohl]

torrcntivl‌:

“B-but you’re the boss, Mr. Isaac.” Her sister had told her to treat the Gamble owner with respect. It may have been because Prue and Gray had a history in the military together, but technically Isaac was the temporary Gamble owner for the moment. Honor looked away to quickly scan her surroundings. No one was standing or sitting too close to her, which was good. She hated it when she felt like she couldn’t breathe her own air. “Y-yes. I’m Honor… I… I didn’t get to formally introduce myself earlier, I apologize for that and the fact that the delivery is late… I was hoping that Mr. Gray would be back already or at least…” She looked back at Isaac and then glanced down. If she stared for too long his flaws and weaknesses became more evident. “I have… stuff to give to you… “ She kept her eyes trained on the counter between them. “Dangerous stuff… Yeah…”

She wasn’t wrong, Isaac knew that, but he’d never been the boss of anything, and it still felt strange hearing the words from her mouth. “Really, Isaac is just fine.” He assures her again, not feeling nearly old enough to be considered a Mr. He could feel the nerves coming off of her, something he was quite familiar with. He pushes his hands into his pockets, a tick that helped him feel in control as he listened to her. “Your delivery?” He gives her a confused look before his mind aligns with what she meant. “Oh, right! The delivery.” He nodded quickly, cursing himself for being so clueless in this position.  “I um... should we sort it out in the back office?” He furrowed his brow a little, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” 

[isaac-and-kohl]

amovrmort‌:

The art of bartending is a skill that should not be under-looked, not in Jeanne’s opinion.  In any setting, when you were the pouring the drink, the livelihood depends on you - pour too much and the liquor takes hold too quickly but pour too little and the drinkers will complain;  it’s an act of balance, of timing and with the right words said, a theft to those who easily fall for the lush whispers of a woman with a smile and a gentle touch to the hand.  Tips were the easiest part of the job.  The woman might have been a new hire to the infamous bar, but she wasn’t new to the setting.  

When the man that the charge of bar was placed on approached her, Jeanne’s eyes watched gently - she noted his demeanor and his tone, body language always told more than what was said.  She rest her elbows on the counter, leaning her chin against one of her hands as she watched him.  His words came out meeker than she had expected of him and her head noded up and down as he spoke, almost as if she was anticipating each word that he said.  At the end of it, she gave him a smile.

“If the boss left the Gamble in your hands, then you should take it as a compliment,” Jeanne said as she shifted from her position.  As she stepped away from the counter, she looked at him, “Act like the new boss and the rest will follow.”

Isaac nods slowly. He knows what she’s saying is true, but he still struggles. He’s never been the most authoritative person, only ever really standing up for himself when there seems to be a perceived threat. He was really questioning Gray’s choices right now as he stood there. He’d read Gray’s book with all the information he apparently needed to know in order to run the gamble, but still he felt lost. “Yeah… right.” He nods again, knowing she’s right. But he didn’t know how to act like a boss, especially when his demeanor was less than threatening compared to the mercenaries that worked in the place.  “Any um, tips or suggestions on how to do that exactly?”

[xxigray]

isaac-and-kohl‌:

Isaac brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, eyes focused on the floor as Gray spoke. It was a lot to ask, but he knew Gray wasn’t one to take things lightly. He thought for a moment about the man in front of him, whatever he was dealing with must be big to need to separate himself from the Gamble for a while. Gray had offered him so much since he’d gotten to Ceres, Isaac felt he owed him. Taking in a breath he nods, gaze grazing back up to meet the man in front of him. 

“I mean, I’ll be honest with you man, I think this is a fucking stupid decision on your part.” His voice has lightened a bit, a small smile playing on his lips. “But, if you’re serious… I’ll give it a go.” He swallows, giving another short nod. This was usually the time people would shake hands or something to seal the deal, but Isaac keeps his hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t know exactly how intimidating i’ll be to a bunch of fucking mercenaries though…” He shakes his head giving a small chuckle. “But um.. y’know, thanks man, or whatever.” 

“I know that,” Gray replied to Isaac, “Sometimes, stupid fucking decisions work out for everyone. Besides, seeing the reactions of certain mercs will help me figure out how things need to change when I get back.” Isaac would have a place to stay and some disposable income and at the same time, Gray would be able to root out a few particular people in The Gamble. People were getting to comfortable. This wasn’t just an opportunity for the younger man in front of him. “Godrick’ll be here to back you up, Isaac,” he said, “If all else fails, he’ll lend you some help and teach you how to take care of those guys. He’s the one of my oldest friends.”

This wasn’t going to be an easy transition for some of the usual patrons at the bar. The first floor customers weren’t the ones that Gray would worry about. It’s the second floor ones that held a different attitude. He gave Isaac the once over before he decided that he’d be fine. Mostly fine. Somewhat fine. He shook his head and sighed - he was going to have to pay Godrick a visit after this to make sure everything stays smooth.

From his desk, he handed Isaac over the leather-bound notebook. “Everything you need to know about The Gamble is in there,” he explained, “With the exception of individual merc files for the second floor.” Those were hidden files that only Gray could lay eyes on. “Like I said, you won’t be running this place alone. There’s a lot of people here I rely on and you can count on them too.” He paused and smirked, “Congratulations, Isaac. You’re now the owner of The  Gamble. Temporarily, but you’re running the place now. Try not to burn it down, please.”

[ END ]

[isaac-and-kohl]

xxigray‌:

“It’s a lot to ask, I know,” Gray responded, “Lot of responsibility to throw on someone.” He smirked, “But that’s how my dad taught us anything. Experience was always the best teacher.” Gray stayed quiet as he watched Isaac go through the process of understanding what this offer was. There were plenty of people who encouraged him to take time off, but they had different intentions. Never one to let the cloud of haze that followed advice from some of the mercenaries, Gray decided to pick someone outside of their usual circle. He trusted Isaac, even if Isaac didn’t trust himself.

“Thanks. I mean it, Isaac,” Gray said, “You’re actually doing me a huge favor. I have some things that I need to handle …I just need some time.” He frowned; he just needed to figure himself out. The rest of the mercenaries would have to fall in line for this strange shift for power. He looked back up to Isaac, “Yeah, I’m not going to leave you without people who’ll help. I think it’ll be pretty quiet though. Some of them won’t come back until I do, but you’ll have a good bunch.” He paused, “Don’t let them walk over you. They’re mercenaries, if you give them any leeway, they’ll take advantage of you.”

Isaac brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, eyes focused on the floor as Gray spoke. It was a lot to ask, but he knew Gray wasn’t one to take things lightly. He thought for a moment about the man in front of him, whatever he was dealing with must be big to need to separate himself from the Gamble for a while. Gray had offered him so much since he’d gotten to Ceres, Isaac felt he owed him. Taking in a breath he nods, gaze grazing back up to meet the man in front of him. 

“I mean, I’ll be honest with you man, I think this is a fucking stupid decision on your part.” His voice has lightened a bit, a small smile playing on his lips. “But, if you’re serious... I’ll give it a go.” He swallows, giving another short nod. This was usually the time people would shake hands or something to seal the deal, but Isaac keeps his hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t know exactly how intimidating i’ll be to a bunch of fucking mercenaries though...” He shakes his head giving a small chuckle. “But um.. y’know, thanks man, or whatever.” 

[thehollowlungs]

07. — melody (for Isaac)

There it was. That haunting melody that tugged at the edges of his focus, at times its soft resonance like the low draw of bow over bass, the occasional sharpness of violin intermixed with the pull of notes like lightening before each rumble of thunder over dark and tempestuous seascape….and yet, there were moments too, when its aching tune burrowed its way into his mind like the sound of a lone piano, locked away, overlooking the storm and unheard for years. Used to neglect. It was comforting not to hear it completely buried today by the often discordant sounds of struggle, like claws raked over its keys at once or the severing harshness of overwrought strings, malicious and relentless in their intensity.  

The curator brought a tired hand to even more fatigued eyes, letting them slip closed momentarily as his mind chased the sound at the edge of periphery thought with more and more insistence as though searching out the name of the composition. He supposed he was. Its composer had made a habit of coming here with alarming and then dependable frequency in the past weeks. Celadon eyes opened with a wince as the melody was overriden by a moment of harsh contrast, his own magic reacting quickly to soothe like a hand turning the volume down on an unpleasant song. But it wasn’t. Unpleasant, that is…not always. His gaze flitted to the narrow windows of his workroom, taking in the purpling haze of twilight as his mind wound around the gentled notes curiously. Past seven then. Too late for visitors. And he had to know. Letting his curiousity guide him, he slipped out of the back room that often  served as his office, careful to close it behind him before following the winding notes through familiar halls.

It was beautiful. Chilling. Curious. The way it wrapped itself around low spaces and hid behind cased antiquities almost…almost as though it didn’t want to be heard. Shy. No. Wary. There it was. He could feel air still in the room as he entered, like a held breath before a storm…and then…there he was. The anonymous composer who had afforded him headaches beyond counting these last few months. Letting his hands slip into his pockets he arched a brow at the rail thin figure, a skeleton in baggy clothing, and approached by a few easy measured steps, “Typically we don’t have guests spend the night - unless you’re hoping to become one of the exhibits. Mummies or skeletons? I wouldn’t risk it, though given your track record of sneaking in you must feel like you own the place. What’s it been…four nights this week? Why? There are plenty of places warmer and better stocked with food than a museum - art lover, are we? Oh don’t bother bolting, I’m not interested in calling security on you. Paperwork for break ins is tedious. And it’s obvious you wouldn’t know where to begin stealing anything. ”

[isaac-and-kohl]

When Isaac was a child, he’d lived in many different group homes when the foster system couldn’t find a family that would take him in. His affinity for getting into fights kept him shuffling from place to place, never being able to set roots much of anywhere. During his stay at one of the group homes, him and a bunch of the other children decided it would be fun to break into a museum and trash the place. The act was nothing more than a bunch of bored kids looking for something exciting to do, and of course Isaac went along with it. While the other kids ran up and down the halls, screeching to each other, Isaac found himself entranced by the exhibits and the art. He’d never been to a museum before—most families he stayed with didn’t want to spend the money on him, and he surely couldn’t afford it on his own. Nine-year-old Isaac stood so captivated with what he saw that he almost didn’t hear the commotion of security guards chasing and corralling the children. Luckily he’d made it out of there that night, but the habit of breaking into museums when he was feeling particularly overwhelmed or detached became a bit of a routine of his.

That routine didn’t change when he moved to Ceres. He’d stumbled upon Cere’s Centroplis Museum of Antiques during his first few weeks in the city, when he was out doing one of his first deals. He couldn’t seem to help himself from picking the lock of the old door, and creeping his way in. The air in the building had felt different, like he suddenly felt a sensation of calm wash over him as he looked from piece to piece. During the next months, he would slip in periodically, always after hours, to wander the halls of the museum and exist within its calming presence. Since he’d come back from Kohl’s last take over, and he had no roof over his head, he found himself seeking refuge within the walls of the museum, the one place that seemed to make him feel like it was going to be okay. He didn’t know why this place had that effect on him, but he found himself trailing around there more often than he should, sometimes finding a corner to lean up against and get some sleep for a few hours.

That night he’d felt particularly restless. His mind was still reeling from seeing Vera, and his hands still held a shake in them from what he’d done to that poor boy. Aurelia was working with him, but he still felt uneasy spending too much time at the academy, with all the students that resided there. He stood, transfixed on an exhibit, his eyes drooping sleepily as he let the calming effect of the museum take over him eyes glancing around if there was a decent corner he could tuck himself away in for a few hours. The sudden voice behind him made him jump, body turning drastically, a momentary flicker in the dim wall lights. Fear etched on his face before he saw the man who stepped before him, his body already expecting the worst. But the man didn’t look menacing, and spoke in a tone that felt more tired and worn than anything. He knew. He knew Isaac had been breaking in, but he hadn’t done anything? Why? His expression moved from fear to confusion and guardedness as he takes a small step back and swallows. “I’m sorry… I just...” He mumbles the few words, his voice low and tired. “I’ve never stolen anything from here.” He says quickly, for some reason that fact was important to him. Sure he’d stolen plenty in the past, but almost always out of necessity. “I swear I haven’t.” He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, shuffling his feet a little, eyes falling to the ground like a child being caught. He didn’t know how to explain himself—the museum makes him calm? That’s why he breaks in and sometimes spends the night? He knew it sounded stupid and idiotic in his head, so he kept the words to himself. “It’s um… it’s just an easy place to sneak into to crash for a night…” He keeps his gaze casted down away from the mans, lips pursing, a crushing realization that with being caught, he likely couldn’t return anymore.

[isaac-and-kohl]

To say that Isaac wasn’t a people person was a bit of an understatement. He’d only been ‘in-charge’ of the Gamble for a few days and he already felt like he was doing an absolute shit job at it. Most of the mercenaries weren’t happy, and the staff didn’t really seem to want to take him seriously. Hell, he couldn’t blame them; he didn’t really demand respect, not like someone like Gray did. But Gray had trusted him, and as much as he wanted to hide in the back office for the rest of the day, he knew he needed to try. And he couldn’t really complain. Having a roof over his head, a change of clothes and the chance to take a hot shower did wonders for someone who’d been living on the street for the past few weeks. He knew that it would last him forever, so he was already building up his contacts again with his regular customers, hoping to fall back on dealing when Gray came back.

Anxiety lifting in his stomach, grabbing hold of his heart causing it to beat faster, he found himself walking towards a woman—one of the bartenders he assumed. He felt lucky the drugs in his system kept the full extent of his nerves at bay, taking the edge off while they worked to keep Kohl dormant. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he bites into his bottom lip for a moment before speaking. “Hi, um… sorry… I don’t think we’ve met. I um… fuck sorry, I mean, I’m Isaac.” He stumbled over his words, mentally kicking himself for sounding so incredibly weak and pathetic. “Gray… he um, he left the Gamble… I mean. Fuck, I guess I’m supposed to be in charge of the Gamble now?” He rocks on his feet, looking down, already wanting to retreat back to the back office.

@amovrmort

[isaac-and-kohl]

xxigray‌:

“Yeah, a mistake,” Gray nodded solemnly. There was no other reason than his own foolishness that got him here. This was a mistake he would have to learn to atone with for the rest of his life, however. “I’ll explain to you about that later,” he ended the topic and returned his attention back to the more pressing matter at hand. He cast his glance back over to Isaac and waited for the younger man’s reaction to the news.

The look of disbelief on Isaac’s face made Gray laugh. “Yeah, you heard me,” Gray said, “I want to give you temporary charge of The Gamble for a bit. Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you without people I trust to help you take care of things.” After this, he would personally have a word with Godrick to help Isaac out. Things could get rough with the change of power, even if it’s just temporary. “I think, you can rise up to the challenge, Isaac. I really do. I mean, I believe you can.”

Isaac’s face remained in a confused expression. Surely Gray must have been joking. Just pulling a prank on him or something, that was it. But the more Gray spoke, the more Isaac knew it wasn’t a joke. “You’re fucking serious.” He said as more of a statement than anything. He shakes his head, not sure what to think. Gray must have been going through something bad to leave the Gamble, let alone leave it in his hands. “You’re fucking crazy dude.” He says shaking his head some more, hands running through his hair as he tries to comprehend exactly what Gray is asking. 

On one hand, he feels he should turn it down, knowing that not only does he know nothing about running a business, but secondly he had Kohl in his head to worry about. Kohl could come out at any time, and the last thing he wanted was for him to ruin the Gamble. Glancing around the room, he thinks about the fact that it would be nice to have a roof over his head, and the chance to get ahead, maybe get his old apartment back. His eyes glance back up, brows furrowing together. “I mean... I guess if i’m not doing it on my own.” He speaks hesitantly, not sure if he’s making the right choice, but in that moment he can’t let it pass him by. 

[isaac-and-kohl]

torrcntivl‌:

At first, she thought that she could catch enough of a look inside by just waiting for people to open the door to the Gamble, but as people came and go, she found that the glimpses into the establishment just weren’t doing it for her. She couldn’t get enough information and her ability highlighted the flaws in her plan, sending her near constant tingles, like an awful version of the spider sense. So finally, with hesitant steps, she slowly pushed open the door and looked inside. “H-hello…” She asked softly to the nearest person. “Is Mister Gray or Mister Isaac inside? I… I need to talk to them…I-it’s really important!” 

It was a fairly quiet evening in the Gamble that night. Isaac was slowly trying to learn what it meant to be in charge of a place like the Gamble. He’d been relying on the few people who didn’t seem to hate him to guide him in the right direction, but so far he felt pretty hopeless. His eyes catch a glimpse of a woman standing outside, but he doesn’t think much of it, her image distorted through the glass. Shifting around the bar, he feels his heart rate increase and decrease as he worked through his mind on what he should be doing. The door opened and closed and the woman entered. He recognized her as someone he’d seen around, but she looked timid and maybe a little lost. Brows raise at her words, and a bemused smile pulling at his lips. “Just Isaac is fine.” He shakes his head, he’s not sure if he’s ever been called Mister at any point in his life. “It’s um… Honor, right?” He scratches the back of his neck, eyes glancing around thankful it was a slow night. “Gray he’s… I’m not even fuckin sure where he is. But he’s not around… What’s up?”

[isaac-and-kohl]

Isaac didn’t know what he was doing. Why Gray had left him, a 21 year old homeless kid in charge of the Gamble, was far beyond him. But here he was, hiding behind the bar, shattered glass around him as he’d ducked just in time before the glass chucked at his face hit the wall behind him. Heart hammering, he questioned his own rational for accepting Gray’s offer. Sure, he had a place to crash in the back office now, and it was a roof over his head, but some of the mercenary’s and staff didn’t seem to take too kindly to having a random kid in charge that had no idea what he was doing. Eye’s shifting upward from his crouched position behind the bar, Isaac debates staying hidden where he is, figuring the gamble may just be better off without him at that point .Normally he’d fight back, but he was tired. The past weeks of sleeping in the back of alleyways and park benches had taken a toll on his mind and body.  The crunch of glass underfoot catches Isaac’s attention, glancing at the figure that stood beside him. Recognizing Godrick, a man he knew as an ally, someone that Gray trusted. “A little help?” He asked, brows knitting together as he hid from the mercenary that had thrown the glass.

@queuedgodd

[isaac-and-kohl]

fireworks & birthday

Fireworks and Birthday → Drabble (Isaac)

Fireworks cracked in the sky above as the two boys sat side by side on the rooftop of the abandoned warehouse. June 13th. A day they shared, though separated by a few years. Isaac brings the joint to his lips, taking a moment to breathe in before passing it over to Pax. They’d gotten lucky, there was a festival going on a few blocks over, which resulted in the sky lighting up, as though it was a special celebration just for the two of them. The last little while had been good. Kohl hadn’t made an appearance for what seemed like months, and the electricity in his bones seemed more settled than it ever had been. Isaac smiles a little, life seemed okay right now, and with his best friend sitting beside him, he felt like things were going to be okay. Isaac glances over to the younger boy and gives him a smile. “Happy Birthday, kid.”