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@kxminari
░ — Artisan has never been a very tolerant person. Either you do or you don’t and there’s no in between. Cross a line and the chance of being forgiven is extremely slim. This counts even for family, and he still holds a grudge against his older sister for suspicious actions and affiliations after almost six years.
“I could ask you the same thing.” He breathes, teeth clenching slightly as brows knit together at the center of his forehead. “I don’t understand how… you could look like me.” Inhaling slightly, his fingers momentarily trace the line of his jaw, before he shakes his head and drops his hand to his side. “You look almost exactly like me.” Save for obvious features – eyes, teeth, claws, the like. Swallowing some, Ethalion exhales a shaky breath, still staring at the male in confusion. “What is your name?”
░ —Perhaps it had been a pretty stupid question, for all he knows the other is probably just dumbfounded as he is himself. “I... don’t understand either.” He mumbles, lips pressing thin and eyes filled with confusion. Puzzle doesn’t back away from the touch although finding it rather strange, but everything about this is strange and taking a step back won’t change anything. “Well...” He is unsure what to say, simply eyeing the other for another few seconds before he gives his head a slight shake — as if to clear it. “Namki,” he begins, tugging slim fingers through blond hair, “My name is Namki.”
A bit of a groan rumbles in his chest in mild frustration, though with himself, and not for the stranger. Shifting a little, he arches away from the concrete, shaking out his head briefly before pushing himself up slowly to sit. A hand smooths back through messily styled locks, and the creation exhales slowly, happy to find none of his bags had broken or spilled. Shaking his head, he simply huffs out a breath, one followed by a soft laugh shortly afterwards. “It’s fine, truly. It was the sidewalk’s fault for tripping me anyways.” Up he stands, pushing himself to his feet, before eyes flicker up to the stranger, about to ask him if he was okay. Only, what he finds stuns him speechless– quite a rare occurrence for the male. Bright, mismatched eyes blink rapidly, plush tiers parted in surprise. “You–…” He breathes after a moment, a hand reaching up to cup the stranger’s cheek, half-expecting himself to be hallucinating the whole thing.
░ — Staring is entirely unavoidable by now, even if the dull throb in his head is enough to become a gnawing distraction for a few seconds. He almost flinches when the other cups his cheek, eyes growing eve wider. He has no idea what’s going on and he’s more than a little bit sure that he’s dreaming by now. Because these things don’t happen for real, right? At least he tries to convince himself exactly that. Though it does become more than a little bit difficult since they can actually touch each other. “Who..?” He questions when he gets back up to his feet. “Who are you..?” Puzzle continues, head swimming and the sudden bout of confusion doesn’t help one bit.
@kxminari
You’d think that for a powerful, beautiful creation gifted with abilities unprecedented, that he’d be a little more graceful. But that’s hardly the case in this situation, and among balancing bags upon his arms full of food to give to the animal shelter, he finds he loses his own balance upon an uneven raise in the concrete. It’s incredibly unfortunate, and for someone like him, quite embarrassing, though that kind of emotion isn’t something he feels very often, and it’s not one he feels now, even as he crashes into the sidewalk, knocking someone over in the process while he goes down.
░ —He is fairly slow for once, when there’s not anything he has to rush towards. he has finally gotten himself some time off, even if it’s only from his on-official job, even though it is the only one listed on paper. His real job isn’t one that should be spoken of, at all. Therefore he finds himself wandering about the city quite aimlessly. Because even if work has had him exhausted for months, now when there’s nothing to do he actually feels restless. If it’s bad or good is for time itself to tell. His focus is wavering for but a sliver of a second, not having enough time to move aside before he’s knocked over, using his hands to brace his own fall. Puzzle mutters quietly to himself, rubbing slowly at his forehead. “I’ sorry, I didn’t keep my eyes on the sidewalk...” He begins, only to trail off into sudden quiet as soon as he lays his eyes on the other;
░ — Eyes, expressing the same amount of worldly distaste as usual, slanted as if he is entirely uncaring. Which for the record, is partially true these days. There isn’t much to care about either way, not aside from himself. More so now than ever before, he never wanders around unarmed, no matter the errand he runs — personal or related to his current employer. The payment is good, he has upgraded his entire lifestyle quite a bit during the past year. Satisfying, but not enough to fill up the void that lingers in his chest, spreads like a plague in black patches across his withering heart. There has, been a lot more pain than he originally signed up for, but in one sense he believes it to have made him a lot stronger. Perhaps only because the tough front he puts up is rock solid without comparison, and not even K.O can bring him to grin even in the slightest. At least not unless he fucks something up. That’d be the only exception.
Soles of lazily tied sneakers are almost dragging against the pavement, hands shoved into black jean pockets, long strands of messy black hair peeking out from under the hood from his sweatshirt, settled to have most of his features falling into pleasant shade. Another measure to keep prying eyes away. It’s not particularly late, the sun has set and left the city in dark gloom, and Luka is simply setting foot outside to sate his usual need for nicotine (he has moved from one package a day to two or three.) So there he is, quiet but observant as walking past gaping shop windows of his nearest Seven Eleven. There is a slight flash of annoyance as a shoulder brushes past his own a little too close, an intense glare followed by stopped footsteps, “mind where you put your fucking feet,” practically hissed from lightly parted lips before he clicks his tongue. There is nothing more frustrating than people.
@infernalkai
"Evening, gorgeous", he smiles, leaning closer to press a light kiss to her lips. "These are for you. And no comments about me being gross, or I will take you to McDonald's", Jongin jokes, handing the flowers to her.
░ — She can’t help the way she’s practically smiling from ear to ear when he speaks. She hasn’t seen him in a while and to be entirely honest, she has missed him quite a lot. Her fingers curl over his shoulders momentarily when he kisses her, slipping down along his arms when he pulls back. “I wouldn’t call it gross, just sweet. “She laughs as she takes the flowers. “Let me just put them in a vase and then we can go?” She suggests, “I don’t want them to wither.”
The clock says 06:59pm as Jongin finds himself standing behind her door; sure, he might not be the most romantic person around, but even he has his moments. That being a small bouquet of red roses, just because. In the end, Sora only deserves the best.
░ — She has spent a lot of time getting ready this time. To make sure her makeup is perfect, that her hair falls in perfect curls over her shoulders. Efforts she usually ignores unless she absolutely has to engage in them, not because she doesn’t enjoy looking pretty, but because work keeps her lazy.It’s exactly 7 pm when she opens her front door, smile settling across her lips as soon as she lays eyes on him.
[text;sora] remember that black dress with gold patterns I got for you? Put it on and be at your front door at 7pm -jongin
[Message; Jongin] As surprised as I am, you got it! I’ll be ready on time, hoping you’ll look equally fancy.
Her smile is quite wide when she presses send, getting up from her couch in order to get the dress out of her closet already, in order to figure out what shoes and earrings to wear — she wants to look her best for him. As always.
—— ( REBLOG & FOLLOW ) ; &like for a short starter.
Jongin hates this. Seeing her face so… sad, without the tiniest hint of a smile; it has his insides twist in the most unpleasant way, even more as he is aware how he is the one to blame for it. So he hesitates, lingers by the door while trying to figure out if he should, or should not. He ends up stepping inside neverthless, but staying by the door; “look, Sora… I am sorry. For how I acted earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt you with it, and I won’t try to explain because it won’t change anything– but I just wish you won’t be mad at me.”
░ — Her eyes close for a moment, as she backs into her own apartment to allow him to step inside too. They only open again when he speaks, arms crossing over her chest and fingertips tugging at the fabric of her shirt while she listens. She’s quiet for a moment or so after Jongin falls silent too, carefully eyeing him as seconds slowly turn into one full minute. “I’m not mad.” She then says, shoulder slumping as she, carefully, moves a little bit closer — stretching to shut the door behind him. As a sign that she wants him to stay. “It just felt like you don’t trust me and as much as it hurts, I know it’s not really any of my business.” She explains, lowering her head yet again.
“Don’t even care about the table breaking” (jongin to diablo)
[Sentence starters] — Not accepting
░ — Wary. If anything, he’s wary at that very moment. Because the way those words are spoken is more than enough to make that familiar tendril of warmth spread through his abdomen like fire. Brows lower and lips part for a chuckle, accompanied by a grin and a shake of his head. “Question is why I’d let you be that close to begin with.” He responds, arms crossing over his chest, dark strands of hair falling into his line of vision. As tempted as he is, he needs to be cautious: careful. Doing something as stupid as this sounds, is not exactly a good choice.
“You’ll understand why I want you so desperately” (jongin to sora )
[Sentence starters] — Not accepting
░ — “I will understand?” She questions with a quirked brow, lips curled in the faintest of small grins as fingers smooth over Jongin’s shoulders, down over his chest. Motions slow: calculated. As most things she tend to nowadays are. Perhaps, her senses are finally maturing and she is finding herself, little by little. “When will I understand this?” She then asks quietly. She leans forward then, to rest her head by his shoulder — inhale the scent that is his and that always makes comfort settle so deeply within her that it drowns out every hint of anxiousness there might be.
Jongin can feel his confidence faltering the second the door opens; it feels like he is back in Japan. He digs his teeth against his lower lip, pushing away such memories; instead lifts his eyes at her, searching for his voice for a second. "I.. wanted to see you. To.. apologise", he says.
░ — Her eyes remain cold for another few moments. Only because she has resorted to distancing herself from many things in the past few days: prepared for spoken desires of separation. But still, she’s nervous. Maybe even scared of what he has to say. Evident by the way her fingers absentmindedly fiddle with the necklace resting neatly between her collarbones.
Apologize..?
At first there is surprise, written across her features like words from an open book. Then there’s something else, something close to a mix between relief and melancholy. “Oh.” She says, lowering her head a little, pushing the door open properly. Teeth gnaw at her lower lip as she looks up at him again. “Do you... want to some inside?”
( @kxminari )
[ 📖 ] ——— ❝ Back away. ❞
The warning is short, sharp and blunt - Coda is not playing around and is very much ready to shove his fist down the stranger’s throat if they get any closer. They’re nearly touching and it has his body tight as a wire, eyes dilated as his pulse races. No, they need to get the fuck away from him before he claws an eye out.
░ — A moment passes and he is rather surprised, though steps back without second thought. He knows to be careful, mostly because of his job, but also because he holds great respect for other people. He’s not in the mood for unnecessary unpleasantries in the end, avoiding them as swiftly as he can. “Okay, okay. Jesus christ.” He mutters under his breath, shaking his head.
He lingers by Sora's door, chewing on his lower lip like there is no tomorrow (and he sort of fears he won't, if she is mad at him). After more than ten minutes, Jongin finally forces himself press the doorbell, almost holding his breath.
░ — She has indeed considering leaving Seoul for a while. To get her mind off of the things that continuously bother her. But she hasn’t managed to rip herself away from her work that constantly demands her presence. And in the end, she continues to elude the possibilities of actually leaving — perhaps because the thought of what she might find actually scares her to some extent. When she sound of her doorbell echoes through the apartment she flinches at first, eyebrows lowering as she gets up to her feet, moving slowly. She’s not expecting company, as far as she remembers, but perhaps it’s just one of those door to door salesmen. If it is, she won’t open.
Upon reaching her front door, she looks through the spyhole, only t be faced with immediate surprise and just a tiny bit of fear. She has no idea what he is doing there, none at all. And for a moment, it keeps her on her toes. But she opens the door, after a moment of contemplation, pushing blond strands of hair away from her features as she looks at him, questioningly. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Anything you need?”
░ Shallow breaths ░ ʜ&ғ [AU]
░ — His feeling about this meeting had been atrocious from the beginning. Suspicions widely raised and as in many other cases he hadn’t been wrong. He knows to trust his gut better than anything, yet in the end he had ignored his own advice for the possible, beneficial, outcome this could mean. Not only for himself but for the entire group. And when it really comes to it, the well-being of the squad weighs heavier than any sense of wrongness that he might have. Because if he had been wrong about it and backed out, the consequences could have been dire. Which they are slowly turning out to be now as well, when he’s practically throwing himself at the ground to avoid flying bullets. And he thanks his maker for being skilled enough to take care of himself, while the thought of Cheolmin still lingers in the back of his mind.
Arata knows, that he cannot turn his gaze away from his current target, no matter the situation behind him. He has crouched, lunging forward with teeth sunken into his lower lip and eyes trained sharp on the one he’s aiming to take down. Gun in hand, he’s almost fearless as he pulls the trigger: once, then twice to seal his kill. To make sure the male is indeed lifeless by the time his body hits the ground. Shoulder first, forehead second. It is a simple policy, and one they all follow. To make sure they leave no witnesses behind, nobody who can tell of their existence or origin. Because in the constant game they’re playing, with their lives as the highest stake, mistakes aren’t something they can afford. No matter the resources they do have, they can’t run from everything forever. And the can definitely not run from death. As it is the one common enemy they all share. Sooner or later, each and every one of them will lose themselves to the reaper’s enveloping darkness. But Arata is not ready to let his life slip away today. Never.
He gets back up on his feet, scans his surroundings for a mere millisecond before he’s firing off another shot. Missing his target because of the distance and constant movement. But he’s not slow, legs carrying him swiftly across concrete flooring at considerable speed. He aims another shot, bullet passing through flesh of the male’s upper arm. Though at great cost, as he is hit himself. In his shoulder. There’s a pained groan slipping from his lips, frustration evident in dark hues as his lead is lowered for less than a second. It has been years, since his last gunshot wound and it is as unpleasant as he remembers it to be. Although it does not stop him, His aim is poorer, having to use his left hand rather than his right one, it is a bit more difficult but shots are still fired, and landed. Though not with the same finesse as usually. As soon as his last target falls to rest on concrete flooring — red blooming beneath his body in swirling patterns — there is suddenly an echoing quiet. His own breathing is the only sound he hears, together with the rushing of his blood in his veins.
That is when the real pain settles into his system and he ends up dropping his weapon to clutch at the lingering penetration wound the bullet has left behind. Stupid, he reckons but he can’t help it. They’ve taken them all down either way, he should be fine. Should. He breathes heavily, inhales and exhales paced as he turns around to look for Cheolmin, hoping he’s still standing too. As soon as brown hues settle by his familiar frame, there is a sense of relief, untying the knots of worry in his chest and erasing the tendrils of fear from the pit of his stomach. Because Cheolmin is still alive. They’re both still alive. So there is the tiniest hint of a grin crossing his lips when he begins to move.
His feet feel heavier than they usually do, hand still clasped tightly over his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his complexion with pretty shades of sanguine. But he tries not to let the pain bother him all too much, not now. Not until he actually can let his guard down entirely. Little does he know what awaits in the shadows, and by the time the gunshot resounds within the walls of the empty warehouse, it’s all too late. It’s all too late, by the time Arata’s eyes grow wide and his entire frame racks with the force the bullet brings with it. When red spreads not only over his back but over his chest too. Where his heart rests. It takes a few seconds before his body is growing accustomed to the shock itself, yet he still tries to move. Tries to approach the solitary glimmer of hope he still holds, now when he’s starting to realize it’s all slipping through his fingers. It’s desperate, the way his body moves. The way his steps falter further and further as his body fails it’s own weight and he soon ends up caving to the ground.
Blood slips from his lips in a pained cough, trickles down his chin and dripping onto his shirt as eyelids grow heavier for each second. The pain is fading into numbness and spots dance before his eyes as darkness approaches from the corners. He doesn’t want to die. Arata doesn’t want to die and he’s putting up a futile fight — one for a life that is already lost. Because he doesn’t want to go like this.
It’s getting colder. Cold enough that his frame feels as if it’s shaking while in reality he’s perfectly still. Eyes leveled with the ground and breathing shallow as fingers scramble over the unforgiving floor. It’s hazy, it’s all so hazy. And he doesn’t know if he’s alone or not anymore. Doesn’t know whether Cheolmin is there or not but he can’t help himself as there’s wetness to his eyes and lips part for words that can barely be heard.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s a mumble, so faint that only complete silence could ever allow it to be heard. And as his chest finally stops heaving, and his body gives up the fight, there is the tiniest of melancholic smiles curved over paling lips. Eyes still open and fingers lightly curled, arms stretched out in the direction of where he had last seen the one man he trusts with everything. The one he loved so intensely. Loved, with every fiber of his very being.
Now washed away by blood and greed.
; ᴅᴡᴇʟʟᴇʀ —
The silence of the resources library under the museum is disrupted by a faint tap tap tap, as a pencil sits between Nathan’s fingers, the eraser at the end bouncing off the page in front of him as he wiggles it. The schollar sits, messy hair much in need of a shower falling over his brow, slumped forward over a manuscript in front of him, brain long since given up being helpful at around 11pm. Now he feels as if he is just staring at foreign scribbles on a page, even in his own note books! With a sigh his head drops off his palm and with a faint bump, meets the desk. He needs coffee…
He had special permission to be in the basement of the museum, looking through archieves and translating what he needed, all in the hopes of finding mention of something very particular. Something scribbles in the margin of the old diary he holds, the birthplace of vampires. It is just a small mention, the scribbling of a place in the margin, but both he and it’s author know it is more then that. Nathan probably should have gone home when the guards went, but they sort of… forgot about him, locked him in. Not that the young an minds, it gives him more time to find what he needs. The guestbook on the front desk still reads his name, IN 14.05 OUT blank.
Giving up he decides he needs coffee. Remebering there is a small vending machine in the lobby upstairs he gathers together his notes, puts them back into the diary and pulls the tie around the bulging leather cover. He never leaves this thing out of his sight. With it under his arm he heads off to head back upstairs, there’s a large atlas up there, old enough possibly to have some of the place names to fit the sailing records he has, that have since become whole new countries.
As he walks through the large, impressive lobby, feet tapping on the marble floor and diary under his arm, with the skeleton of a whale above him, he doesn’t notice the small red LEDs on the security cameras had stopped flashing.
░ — Eyes are practically gleaming with great focus, as Nightingale’s grin lingers. She knows Snatch works a bit better under pressure and small time limits. Most of them do, and she pushes them when she can. To get the best result possible.
“Copied.”
She offers an affirmative nod to the remaining two, signing that she has made sure the path ahead is clear and that they can all move forward. Their ways of working, has always been based quite a lot on codependency and trust in each other’s abilities. And so far it has worked better than anything they have ever tried. It has also given them quite the reputation, as one of the more dynamic groups of illegal activity. They’ve moved up in their part of the world, names known and signums too. But they’re still extremely hard to catch, of course. Methods refined and identities hidden by fake names and addresses.
She moves along first, mainly because she sees so many more details to everything than they do. Notices smaller signs than anyone. Meanwhile Prime is an excellent tracker and Alfa holds many more capabilities than most of them do, Nightingale is still the best at keeping an eye out for sudden changes — as spymaster she relies on her key senses at all times. It’s part of her job.
They move past the staff quarters, finally getting into the main part of the building. She stops the group, hand raised in a clear, simple motion. She can hear steps, distant but present. “Thunder, there is someone else left in the building.” She mumbles quickly, teeth sinking into her lower lip. It’s not a desires situation, but not really a problem either. Moving past someone who doesn’t expect them to be there, and who certainly can’t be a security guard (since they are off schedule at this time, and the way they move sounds too light) shouldn’t be too hard. But it is better if the path is clear. Luckily, the being isn’t heading in their direction.
“Whoever it is, get them out. Get them to me.”
“Copied.” She responds quietly. Then she turns, looks both of the others two over with eyebrows lowered. She makes a quick decision then, both following given orders and perhaps not entirely. “Prime, take them down. Alfa and I will move forward towards our next checkpoint.”
Prime just nods, lips parting for a crooked, toothy grin before he moves past the two of them. He has heard their little interrupter himself, a given fact. Locating them will be easy. His steps are almost entirely quiet, as he practically strides across marble flooring. “Approaching target.” He informs with a low hum to his voice. Excitement, always brings out the best in him. And it always comes with surprises.
