L'APPEL DU VIDE

indie multi-muse, private & selective, 21+.

[lapelduviide]

CANDLESTICKS IN THE DARK, VISIONS OF BODIES BEING BURNED.

highly selective multi-muse. verses include crime, sci-fi, apocalyptic, fantasy, & horror. arcane, the witcher & the last of us friendly. please read my rules before following or interacting. you can find all my muses in this here handy google doc.

[lapelduviide]

DAIYU & YENNEFER

It’s all wrong. The lanes of Zaun aren’t what they once were, when left under Nik’s rule. Daya walks them with a hood pulled over her head, shifty eyes taking in her surroundings as she moves over cobbled streets and roofs alike towards the familiarity of the Last Drop. She’s heard whispers, of course, about the way this place has been changed – prison rats like gossip almost as much as gratuitous violence, you see – but it doesn’t mean she’s prepared for this. 

From a perch up high she looks at the bar that had once been Nik’s corner of this world, where business was dealt. Too young to fully grasp it, then, she’d mostly liked to slip under tables and watch hardened criminals deal their cards. Drink something way too strong when she was much too young, have Nik berate her gruffly as her throat burned. It’s supposed to be a beacon, a place of coming together, but now there’s two of Alexei’s men at the entrance, muscled and heavy, glowering. For a moment, she thinks she might topple from her perch, onto the street — one of them had been there, that night. For a moment, she thinks she might jump off her perch and try and slip something sharp into the artery that stands thick in his muscled neck.

But — she’s grown weak. It’s not like she’s had a lack of training over the years ( one could definitely say Stillwater had made an even better fighter out of her ), but she has lacked sustenance and proper sleep whereas these guys? They seem in tip-top shape. So, she slips away, something in her quivering with rage. There’s so much wish for vengeance and so little she holds. Allies, she thinks, I need allies that aren’t as precious as Yolandi. 

Daya moves through an alleyway, adjusting her hood a little, picking up the pace. She needs to be off the streets, back on the rooftops where there’s less risk of —

This.

Fingers enclose around her chin, hood is pulled back and Daya finds herself clawing at it, this flimsy bit of fabric protection before properly focusing on her assailaint who tilts her head up, towards the light. Yennefer Malstrom — fucking shit. “No way, you’re still alive?” The goading words are falling from her lips before she can stop herself. Her hands stop struggling with the hood, and she claws at the other’s hand in stead. Reaching up, because of course he’s taller than she. “Let. Go.”

zaun is forever changing. it's that change that he's most grateful for. without it, they'd be just another helpless wraith of human, begging for the scraps of those who can’t afford to let anything go to waste. under nikolai's rule, zaun was stuck in stasis. slaves to piltover, trapped under the thumbs of enforcers. but with alexei, it's not the same story. this volkov doesn't have fear of the topsiders, and yen can almost taste piltover's downfall.

the last drop comes into view, and as a smile blooms, a body knocks her shoulder, breaking her gaze. irritation makes metal hands itch, and instead of letting the zaunite carry on with their day, they catch the hooded figure's chin in a harsh motion. “where are your manners?” he taunts, as if such virtues have ever meant anything to those in the lanes. their other hand grabs a fistful of fabric, pulling down the strangers hood–

except it's no stranger. a ghost, but no stranger.

“well, well, well,” they start, a devilish grin tugging at the corners of their mouth, “heard about stillwater. didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come back here, princess.” gears whirr, the grip on daiyu's chin tightening with every moment that passes. “there's a pretty price on your head. daddy dearest must be worried sick.” a laugh echoes through the alleyway. they are no stranger to the most powerful family in the undercity, they know there is no care in alexei's bones, that he sent his daughter to stillwater to rot for betraying him. and while yennefer values freedom above all, it doesn't include the freedom of others.

“i don't think i will,” they say with a pout, as if there's any fibre of them that feels bad about trading the youngest volkova in for more shimmer than they can fathom. “not unless you'll pay me more for looking the other way. but something tells me that, fresh out of prison, you have very little to give me. no? though...” when he laughs again, he brings his face closer to the other's, eyes gleaming with something sinister, “you could always beg.”

[lapelduviide]

RAKESH

a part of rak is unwilling to admit, but leon is hitting all the right notes so far. there’s an arrogance to the way he holds himself, but he also seems agreeable enough to recognise the lines rak is drawing. there’s a chance that hubris will eventually fill his mouth up until he chokes on it, that this act will be grating more than it is enticing, but for now, the grizzly sinks their teeth onto the bait.

“you were a bit messy.” it’s another lie, a well-practiced sort of snobbery that drips from their tongue, as he holds onto the illusion that they still have the upper hand in this conversation. leon was pretty impeccable with his fighting, tearing apart clickers with impressive ease, but he didn’t need all of that air going up to his head so soon. “sloppy. i could tell you were struggling." 

they knew what was coming when they made the offer, which is why his own lips tug up into a lazy grin, eyes still watching closely as if the newcomer was living prey. ”i’ll enjoy the show, but don’t expect a happy ending,“ his shoulders raise in a shrug, his head tilting to the side. quite frankly, the one thing that makes it easy for rak to keep their distance is all the dark red gunk covering leon’s body; they’re equal parts excited and wary to no longer have that barrier between them. ”i’m not keen on you getting blood everywhere, so clean up first it is.“ their hand gestures vaguely towards all the gore that covers the other’s body, before he makes a turn and beckons him to follow along, without looking back to check if he’s keeping up.

“sloppy, huh. i'll give it to you, that's a first for me,” he grins. leon might not believe rakesh for even a second, but it was never going to be those who trust easily that leon would be most interested in. where's the challenge in having trust handed to you on a silver platter? he wants to earn it, and preferably from the most guarded chess piece on the board. “i might not know much around here, but i do know that i can prove you wrong,” his words are gentler, no more palpable smugness, only a calm confidence left behind.

they accept and that sickening grin returns to his features, making dark eyes shine. “oh, sure, of course. i'm a patient guy.” a knowing smile lingers on his lips as he follows rak to the lake's edge, with only a few boulders as a slither of privacy. he's not against it, evident in how quick he is to start kicking off his shoes and peeling away layers of clothes soaked in infected blood, it’s just not what he’s used to. everything goes, and he only glances to see where rak's takes attention takes hold when the cold water meets his feet.

“where i come from, there are hot showers. when was the last time you got one?” he asks curiously, stopping only when the water hugs his hips. the chill makes every hair on his body stand on end, and with one long breath, he submerges himself in the still waters. under the surface, eyes shut, he begins to rub the blood from his skin before the cold becomes too much. when he stands back to his full height, he's facing rakesh, eyes locked on the grizzly as he pushes wet hair from his forehead. leon's gaze only breaks away from the other to see where blood still lingers on his body. “does this water get any warmer?”

[lapelduviide]

DAIYU

Daiyu, if anything, is well trained. She might be the runt of the litter but she’s still been raised like a guard dog, a sharp-toothed beast that’s made for destruction. And so she does, her father’s weapon the only thing in her hands as she jumps from her chair onto the guard, wrapping her legs around his middle as they fall onto the floor and the sharp of her blade meets flesh. Eye, cheek, sinews under his shirt, punches and cuts combined. 

But there’s another guard, who’s on her, pulling her away and all she knows is to clutch to the scalpel, to wait for opportunity and take it when it appears. She drives the blade into his thigh, where an artery lingers. Misses, but his grip slackens and Daiyu slips, her short height used to her advantage as she kicks at his leg. It’s a blur, a flurry, the other guard gaining traction once more. And then, a gunshot pierces the air, whizzes past his head and flies through his shoulder. Daiyu watches him drop and whips, slicing at the throat of the other guard and watching him stumble. Then, like the beast she’s made to be, she pounces on the last one, smiling as she puts pressure on his gunshot wound before driving the scalpel past ribs where she knows the heart resides. The muscle is pierced and he stirs beneath her as blood starts to pool. 

Maybe Alexei should have gotten dogs, rather than children: they tend to be more obedient, after all. But even so, when you raise your children like attack animals, you have to understand that one day they might form a pack. 

Daiyu watches the light leave the guard’s eyes and retrieves her weapon of choice, getting up and turning to look at her siblings. Adrenaline pulsates in her ears. She runs a hand through her hair, blood sticking to the strands. “For a few hours?” She laughs, inches closer to Alexei, grabs a hand full of hair and pulls his head back. A twisted mirrored image, this: she holds the scalpel against his throat. “Why not make it forever?” 

As she stands at the head of the table, she looks at the scene, and she shoves her father’s head forward, hard. Alexei Volkov’s head crashes down, breaking the plate it lands on, cracking open on the shards. She lets the scalpel skitter to the floor. There’s one more thing about this scene that’s still very wrong. 

When she reaches Nik, fingers press against his neck, and when she feels a pulse, she tries to lift his head slightly. “You’re a fucking idiot.” Seeking, for signs of consciousness. “Hey? You hear me? C’mon Nik, it’s alright now.”

a knife meets alexei's throat and inna's gaze turns stern and icy. if daiyu slit open this man's throat, inna would have it sewn back together, not to save his life, but to not allow him a quick end. “he doesn't deserve a death like that, daiyu. he has debts to pay,” she insists. then his head meets china and in the corner of her eye, she sees her brother flinch. if inna was capable of thanking anyone, she would thank her baby sister, because the man who brought all three of them into this world doesn't deserve any peace, and now inna has the power not to give him any.

“no one's going to make any of you do what you don't want to do anymore.” she's talking to all three of them. to vissarion, who is achingly silent and still. to daiyu, who of course dropped all signs of violence for a chance at expressing love. to nik, who is riddled with mistakes but if anyone will stick by daiyu till the end, it's him. “you want new identities? money? take whatever you want. you can go anywhere.” she looks at her brother now, because it was always him who struggled with the idea of freedom the most. but he does not meet her gaze.

nikolai hums quietly when familiar hands check him for signs of life, a weak ‘i'm still here’. it hurts to breathe, but he sucks in a deeper breath regardless, needing enough energy to at least look up at her. he sees his brother first, face down in plate fragments, unmoving. to the side, he sees vissarion in shock, watching as if he's waiting for his father to reveal he's pulling all the strings behind this life changing evening. then inna, chilled as ever but standing taller. and of course daiyu. he works with her to lift his head more, but a jolt through his ribs takes the air from his lungs momentarily. he doesn't try to speak, just tugs at the cable ties holding his wrists to dining chair too tight.

inna grabs a steak knife from the table and starts cutting his other wrist free. “there's one exception. i won't let you two run off again when he's in this state,” she turns to nik now, “once you can walk again, you can go.” fingers prod gently over where her uncles ribs should be. “but at least two of your ribs are broken, so no walking yet.” inna stands from where she'd crouched at nik's side, gaze on her sister now. “contact yolandi and tell her you're both okay. she can stay with us while he heals.”

[lapelduviide]

RAKESH

at the comment about yen, rak raises one skeptical eyebrow, mouth filling with venom that drips from his tone when he speaks again. “yeah? well, you don’t know yennefer like i do, do you?” it’s a warning, don’t go thinking you’re hot shit too soon. it’s protectiveness that makes his voice come out like a snarl; a rookie referring to yen in any capacity would already be eye-roll worthy, but a rookie thinking they can assume how yen feels? that’s something sure to get rak hissing like a feral cat. yen did in fact like this guy enough to give him a chance, and the show he put on might’ve been one of the best any of the grizzlies have seen in the cage, but that doesn’t mean he gets to waltz around putting words in yen’s mouth. rak will be damned if they don’t make sure everyone respects their leader the way he should be respected. they might even appreciate this man’s confidence and how he holds himself, but they draw the line at people who think they can get too friendly too fast with their ride or die.

leon. so that’s the name. see, rak was sure it was something more fun than a lacklustre luke, but they hadn’t been paying much attention before his whole cage moment. they squint again, this time as a cover for the amusement that shines in their eyes, mood easily restored back to something more peaceful as soon as yen’s name is no longer concerned. he pretends there are no sinful thoughts in his head when he hears leon say their name for the first time – like they do this all the time, like they’ve known each other for a lifetime. it is eerily familiar and entirely new at the same time. “more times than you. why? you want tips?” truthfully rak has not been in the cage more than a handful of times at best, because it’s simply not their style, but they’re nothing if not a good teller of half-truths.

leon steps closer – and if that’s an attempt at intimidation he must have a death wish –, and rak stands his ground, chin tilted up in response. their throat exposed like it’s a dare, gaze still trained on leon’s eyes through their own, now half-lidded, eyes. “rakesh.” they say after a pause, as if they were considering whether or not the man was worthy of the response. “i’m in charge of showing you around, leon,” they test the name on their tongue, drawl it out pointedly. “would you like to clean up or see your room first?”

it seems he's crossed a line in the dirt, and leon makes a note of it. arrogance might be an inescapable part of his being, but he knows when it'll benefit him and when it won't. so leon raises his brows and raises both hands, palms facing the other, in an act of temporary defeat. “i'm sure i don't,” he assures, voice syrupy sweet, but he's also sure that yennefer will learn to find him very useful.

leon grins from ear to ear, eyes curiously looking over the other. “oh, absolutely. if you have a critique on my performance, i'm all ears, darlin'.” this time, he steps over the line on purpose, feeling out where he is welcome and where he still needs to put in more work in charming this group of wild beasts. but specifically, the beautiful creature in front of him.

the longer he spends in rak's company, the more leon finds to like about them. they don't even bat an eyelash as he steps closer, and leon finds himself imagining that confidence in the face of real threats. what will you do to keep living? he wonders. what have you done to have this life? “rakesh,” he repeats, and the name tastes unlike anything he's ever experienced on his tongue. addictive. “lucky me,” he says with a grin, “that all depends on whether or not you want to watch me get cleaned up,” his grin becomes toothy, a small laugh escaping him, “i'm not against putting on another show.”

[lapelduviide]

RAKESH

for @lapelduviide​

rakesh used to flinch when he watched the fights. not that he really remembers it, but they were once a young little thing, someone that winced and hissed with every blood splatter coming from the cage. now, this ritual feels like communion. they stand near the cage, close enough to smell the ichor and the grit, but just far enough that the coat of old, matted down fur doesn’t get newer bloodstains on it. he chews on the side of his nails, teeth picking at skin, destroying flesh out of boredom as their eyes watch the fight unfold.

this one is different. rak finds his eyes trained on the man inside the cage – someone close enough could’ve told them their pupils were wider than normal, but it would be a foolish decision to approach when he was this focused. the thing that fascinates them is that they haven’t given this man much thought before this. the newcomer’s name is something starting with an L, rak is almost sure; he didn’t bother committing it to memory, sure as he was that this man would be just someone else they could watch get torn apart in the cage, nothing more. but now– oh, now. now he is covered in sweat, and infected gunk, and he’s ramming his knuckles into a clicker’s skin before pulling its spore-y skull apart with bare hands and it is… well. rak didn’t know that watching the cage fight could get them to squirm in their own seat.

they are the first to offer taking care of the newcomer, when it’s pretty obvious yen is willing to give him a chance after surviving the cage. he keeps the thinly-veiled second intentions far from his voice, but yen still gives him a disapproving look before he allows it.

their expression is schooled to be something utterly unimpressed as they wait for leon to step out of the cage. their gaze lingers over quickly rising shoulders, a sweat droplet running down his neck, the blood on his hands, eyes squinted in forged scrutiny. “that was shit. you’re lucky yen wants to keep you.” it’s a lie through bare teeth: the strength and determination shown in the cage were pretty impressive for a rookie. rak has no intention to let his admiration show though, not when it would be far too much trouble for them to get involved with a newcomer they don’t even trust yet, and they refuse to let leon feel like he has that kind of higher ground here. “what’s your name again? luke?”

from what he knows of the grizzlies, they thrive on a good show. and it's what he gives them. “let me have a knife, and i'll kill all five of them,” he says nodding at the rabid runners locked in a tight cage. yennefer accepts, and leon steps into the cage, unbothered when the door locks behind him. he has no issue with getting dirty to prove himself.

they're all released at once, and leon's quick to jump up onto a crate, why it's there, he isn't sure, it's hardily cover. perhaps yennefer thought it needed a little more flare. the two that reach him first scramble to get up onto the crate, giving him time to land a deadly kick under one's jaw, hearing something snap as the body flies back and hits the ground. it's not dead, but the spine is broken, and all that moves is its hungry jaw. the second scrambles up and leon meets it with a knife under the chin as the last three swarm the crate. the body in his grip falls limp, and he throws it at the infected, knocking one down, giving him the opportunity to jump off.

the impact if felt in his knees, breaking his focus for a moment, and when one lunges at him, he almost doesn't dodge in time. but it lunges with all its might, so when the runner flies past his ear, it crashes into the cage wall behind him. the next moves predictably, like they all do, and leon manages to counter how it swipes infected nails, ducking behind and restraining the screeching thing as the one who crashed into the wall charges again. the third, still luckily pinned down by the body leon threw at it, is briefly glanced at before the second lunges again. but leon can see where it's headed, and uses the body he's grappling to catch the bite meant for him. with the second runner's jaw embedded in the first, leon takes the opportunity to stick his knife through the eye of the one biting down. wiggling it enough to ruin the organ inside. leon pulls the blade out, sticking it straight into the temple of the first. the two bodies drop and with a laboured breath, he faces the last one as it finally scrambled out from the body weighing it down.

he plays with it, like a cat does with its dinner. dodging again, and again, and again. each time, getting a slash in. leg tendons, major arteries. until it can no long run, and it's just an oozing thing pulling itself across the dirt for a taste of him. leon stops moving, and waits for it. when it's within reach, he aims another powerful kick, snapping it's neck. there's cheers over the load roaring blood in his ears, and he doesn't look to the exit until the one still snapping it's jaws has its skull crushed under his boot.

when he looks to yennefer, they are laughing.

but who he's most interested in, is the one who meets him outside the cage. rak, yennefer said. leon grins as he gets close enough for rak to smell the infected blood. “you think?” he asks casually, “yennefer looked like he was having a good time.” he knows people like rak, guarded and distrusting, demanding you be worthy of their time. leon likes people like rak. his eyes take over the other as he wipes his bloody hands on his shirt. so you wanna play games? we can play games. “leon,” he corrects with a smile, “how many times have you been in the cage, rak?” leon takes a step closer, ever so slightly tilting his head, “is that short for something, by the way? or is it just rak?”

[lapelduviide]

THE VOLKOVS

Daiyu watches. Watches him pick up the scalpel and wonders, for a moment, if he will deliver a killing blow despite her obedience, but in stead he thanks her and walks. She does not answer, because the words on her tongue are nothing but vitriol and she wants to see him in his seat. When he’s there, though she’s appalled by the proximity, can feel herself starting to wriggle under the restricting hands that keep her in place. She can feel her mind slipping, to dinners of her youth.

Not that she’d sat next to her father, growing up. But this dinner table, this house, the way he sits there and looks at all of them: it’s enough to catapult her back. She feels something constrict her throat, feels the hands on her shoulders disappear even though they remain there. There’s a dizziness in her limbs and she begs herself to remain grounded, to not give into this thing that pulls her down every now and then.

For a moment, she closes her eyes. Her father drinks his wine and she inhales, and then looks up at her brother. Stares at Vissa with eyes that scream of defeat Daiyu feels her hands shaking and she clutches them into fists. She doesn’t even notice the gun at Nik’s head. “And you think that’ll accomplish what? Killing him? You think that’ll make me not love him any more?” She grits her teeth, looks her father straight in the eye. Expects anything but the drowsy look she’s met with. 

He looks weak. She has never seen her father look weak. He opens his mouth, as if to say something and then there’s a strange breath in. Alexei passes out and Daiyu stares, for a moment, and then does not hesitate. She lunges, for the scalpel, slices at the hands that try to hold her back. Blood splatters over her neck and back but she does not care, clambers onto her chair, whipping around to meet the men behind her.

he feels a hand on his knee, and when he meets inna's eyes, there is something there he can't quite pinpoint. something in him settles, but it doesn't make his nerve endings any less itchy. eyes dart between everyone sat at the table, until lastly he catches his father's heavy lidded gaze. he opens his mouth, and then he falls forward into his plate. vissa sits in shock, eyes wide and heart thumping vigorously.

then a shot fires, and vissa whips his head around to see not his uncle dropping, but the guard who's gun was pointed to his head. one of the guards turned their gun on their own, and it can only mean one thing. inna had bought them a ticket to freedom. he doesn't have time to think, grabbing a steak knife from the side of his plate. vissa kicks his chair back into the guard behind him as he turns around, taking the split second of confusion to sink the knife into their neck. gripping the body that gradually turns limp as it bleeds out, vissa uses it as a shield, absorbing gunfire from the other guards.

inna has a similar idea, and her usually quiet stance leaves her underestimated. so when the four guards on this side of the room are busy trying to eliminate vissarion from the picture, she sticks a steak knife in one's throat. again, and again, and again. the body drops, and one guard whips around to strike her across the cheek. she falls, and vissa sees red. he bulldozes past the guard who managed to take the knife from him, dodging slashes until he finds an opening to tackle him into the wall. vissa grabs him by the throat and slams his head against the wallpaper until something cracks. when they slide to the floor, vissa picks up the steak knife and approaches the guard wrestling with inna on the floor. she's a fighter, because they all had to be, but she doesn't have the physical strength of her siblings. so vissa grabs the guard by his hair and digs the knife into his neck, cutting it open and spraying his sister in warm crimson.

the guard on their side is fighting someone much bigger than her, dancing over the body of the man who's gun was pointed to nikolai's temple. with one last precise punch to the neck, the guard keels over, and she puts a bullet in their skull. with the last two fighting alexei's youngest, she aims her pistol, but it's hard to get a clear shot with daiyu in the mix. it's then that inna, face stained red, fires a shot. having picked up a dead guard's gun, she finds a slim opening, leaving a hole in the shoulder of the guard closest to daiyu, giving her sister the window to finish off the last two.

then the room is still. a groan sounds from the floor, a man not yet dead, and inna fires a bullet into his brain without a second thought. then she picks up a napkin, and in front of a large, now broken mirror on the wall, she begins to wipe the blood from her face and neck. “he'll be out for a few hours,” she says without looking around, eyes finding the reflected versions of her siblings as the remaining guard secures alexei’s wrists behind his back. “he's done. his power is gone. they—” she motions to the bodies on the floor briefly, “were the only ones left protecting him.” now she turns around, still blood stained, but no longer soaked. “this is your chance to get out,” she says, meeting her siblings gazes.

[lapelduviide]

THE VOLKOVS

It doesn’t work.

Nothing ever works in this fucking house, Daya should know that by now. She should know that there is no outsmarting her father, that attempting to anger him would always, always come back to haunt her. She feels her brother trying to catch her attention but continues to stare daggers at Alexei, continues to feel her heart thumping in her throat whenever she looks at Nik. 

Her mouth opens for a retort, for more crude words, for more ways to cross the lines that were drawn before she was even born. But then Alexei punches Nik and blood sprays and Daya scrambles from her seat after choking out a loud, “No!” Before she can get to her feet completely, there’s hands on her shoulders, pressing her down, keeping her firmly in her seat and Daya can hear herself panting, watches the red on the white porcelain, watches Nik keel. 

She had always taken to Alexei’s punishments with a certain pride, a chin jutted up even when her body reeled with pain, trying her best to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her defeated. But it’s one thing to suffer harm and it’s another to be the cause another suffers, that’s something she’s known since early childhood, too. Her head shakes. “No, no. I’ll — I can act right.” Her fingers dig into the raw red of her wrists and she stares at Nik, feels her panic climb into her chest. 

She came to this house to die either a literal or metaphorical death, that much she knows. That much she can live with. But Nik? She cannot be the reason for his suffering, for his death, for any of this and yet — he must have followed her. He must have done exactly what she would have if the roles were reversed. Daya looks directly at her father now. “Okay? Can you sit, please? Let’s just all sit.” It’s a plea. It’s pathetic, she knows that, but she can’t look at Nik and fears what she’ll do if her father causes more harm. She can feel Vissa staring at her, but continues to look at Alexei. “Nothing but perfect table manners from me.” At least as long as he continues to stand there, she thinks. 

ever the watchful eye, inna remains characteristically silent. just a fly on the wall. she sees the opportunities her siblings steamroll past, and that's why there's excitement bubbling at her fingertips rather than the fear she feels from vissa and daiyu. inna watches as her uncle sucks in laboured breaths between bloody lips, and finds a little satisfaction. this is man who left her behind. but he is also the man who gave daiyu a chance, so she knows true satisfaction has not arrived just yet.

her father smiles his cruel smile, and with a graciously thankful bow of his head, he picks back up the scalpel. “thank you, daiyu,” he grins, because he thinks he's winning, but inna knows better. alexei let's his brother go, and nik keels over again. when alexei takes his seat again, daiyu is still being held firmly in her seat. alexei stares at his brother as he pours himself a glass of wine, and inna almost smiles when he takes a purposeful sip and sets down the glass.

“it's all very touching, the love you have for him. but it'll do you no good, daiyu,” as if his cruelty was ever for anyone but himself. with a wave of his hand, the guard who's gun was at nik's temple returns, finger on the trigger, and her uncle still doesn't react. “and well, what do we do things we love, nikolai? we kill them.”

but when she turns back to her father, his eyes look heavier. she sees her brother's rising panic and in a moment of compassion, she offers him reassurance. her hand rests on his knee below the table, and when he catches her gaze, it's calm, and she smiles. something in him changes, and she hopes he's ready to set himself free.

when she breaks away, her eyes find each of the four men on the opposite side of the room, the two that hold daiyu, the third who's pistol is aimed at her uncle's head, but her eyes linger on the fourth, still standing against the wall. when this is over, she should really thank her sister for giving her the opportunity to remove the men who’s loyalty for her father isn’t breakable. the empire is so nearly in her grasp.

[lapelduviide]

THE VOLKOVS

There is only one thing to do but fight. She’s lost some of her strength, bed-bound as she was before being dragged from the childhood bedroom that has left her in this state: feral, fetal, furious. There’s teeth marks in the hands of one of the guards, but it’s no use. It’s never any use in her father’s house and yet, that has never stopped her. When she enters the room, and her eyes take in the scene ( too many men to take on, her father, Nik, her siblings ) she fights even harder, all scrambling limbs and scratching arms as she’s put in a seat.

So close to Alexei that she could scratch open his face. Gauge out his eyes with her own fingers. Spit into the bloody holes. Break the cartillage in his nose. 

She fights her father’s men as she attempts to get up again, intending to lurge for a glass and then smash it onto Alexei’s head, but then there’s the click of a gun and her head snaps, gaze snapping onto Nik, who should not be here — why is he here? Her gaze focuses the gun against his head. Daya stops fighting. Balls her fists under the table. 

“My name hasn’t been Daiyu in fucking years,” she spits back, watching the man who calls himself her father trail behind Vissa ( who she can’t look at ) to Inna ( who she stares at, hard ) to Nik. How wrong she had been, thinking she could distract Alexei, that she could pull all his cruel attention onto herself and give Nik and Yolandi a chance. Because while there’s red around her wrists and ankles, while there’s an itch down her throat from the tube that had been stuck down there, she’s whole. And Nik? He looks beaten, broken, bested. My fault my fault my fault.

Daya releases a fist, presses her fingers into the raw skin around her wrists where she had been restrained not long ago, willing herself to sit still as Alexei makes wine spill over the table, as he grips Nik, as he causes pain to the man she had wanted to protect. She wills herself to not beg. Lets the pain ground her. 

“So,” she drawls, opting for distraction. “What’s this all about, then? We having a little family dinner? Fun reunion over food? ‘Cause I’ve made it quite clear that I’m not hungry, I think.” Her hunger and subsequent thirst strike had been pretty unsuccessful attempts at regaining some control over the situation she was in. Daya slowly reaches for a roll of bread, turns it over in her hand. There’s a hungry lurch within her, a longing for solid food between her teeth, but she tosses the roll over her shoulder. “This food looks absolutely rancid, besides.” 

the first word out of her mouth makes vissarion almost recoil. it's not her words or their weight that twist his stomach into painful knots, but knowing the consequence of fighting back at all. he might not be the sharpest at this table, in fact he might be trailing further behind than he let himself believe, but he knows what his father wants. vissa sees the desire to hurt in his father's laugh clear as day, blinding like the sun, and there's no one else in the world who can match a volkov's cruelty.

his eyes remain focused on food that is far from appetising when his uncle and sister were stupid enough to come back. no one will ever fucking listen to me. hands curl into fists under the table. vissarion doesn't feel the same pang when his uncle let's out a pained noise, and instead, vissa tries to meet daiyu's gaze. his heart races now, at the thought of being seen trying to communicate with her in any way that isn't some kind of antagonistic instigation. but she's always been too busy fighting bigger targets. his foot taps hers under the table, and he waits, watching her with desperation. look at me, look at me, look at me, you need to back down, you need to fucking back down—

but his father's voice has always had a way of stripping him of his confidence, and his eyes dart away. “daiyu, you should remember your manners.” vissa holds his breath as his father sets down the scalpel within his uncle's reach. dread builds and builds and builds—

alexei's curled up fist rears back and slams into nikolai's ribs, pushing a pained cough from his chest as a little blood is sprayed from his mouth across the empty, white porcelain plate in front of him. inna meets her sister's eyes briefly with something indecipherable in her own (assurance? apathy?) as nik keels over again, face nearly resting on that plate, spitting saliva and spit lazily. another groan sounds when alexei grabs his shoulder and pulls him upright again. “do you remember how to act now?” alexei asks his youngest, waiting for her to give him another free pass at causing his brother real pain with a wide yet somehow effortless smile. “or do you want to be the reason he suffers more?”

[lapelduviide]

—  THE VOLKOVS,  VOLKOV ESTATE.  ( @poseihdon​​ )

daiyu is the last to arrive, dragged kicking and screaming. nik doesn't have to look up to know she's there, he never has. but this time, he's not comforted by her presence. maybe it's guilt too, that stops him from using what strength he has left to sit straighter and meet his family's eyes. if he had done a better job at hiding himself and his daughters, maybe they wouldn't be here, back where it all started. 

at the head of the table opposite him, his brother sits patiently with a soft smile, scalpel in hand. to his left, sits vissarion, eyes locked on nothing in particular, certainly not his struggling youngest sister. oh his left, sits inna, calm and collected, watching the events unfold with a piercing gaze. to alexei's right is where daiyu is forced into a chair by two particularly burly men. nik hears her continue to fight, and that's when he finally lifts his head, eyes struggling to focus until a gun barrel rests against his temple and a familiar click sounds. 

“daya… it's okay—” please, stop fighting, please—

“her name is daiyu,” alexei says calmly, twirling the scalpel between his fingers. brothers meet eyes, and alexei smiles wider. the volkov patriarch stands from his seat, glancing briefly at his men that line the walls of the dining room before he moves to stand behind his son. hands find vissa's shoulders and the eldest does his best not to tense up as the scalpel rests against his shoulder. “well done, vissarion. whatever you said to her, you convinced her to return home.” vissarion keeps his guilt-laden gaze away from his sister’s eyes opposite him.

tremors have started showing in nik's hands, but when alexei doesn't so much as spare inna glance, walking right past her to his side, he grips the armrests of the chair tight enough to be still. “you look thirsty, nikolai, here,” alexei reaches for a decanter of wine from the middle of the table and pours his bleeding brother a glass. “there's no shame, nikolai, we all know how impartial you are to a drink or two.” alexei stands, and waits.

except there is shame, the same brand that daiyu carries on her back. shame for things that couldn't be controlled, like their influences in life. but nikolai has never once let his brother win, so even if his broken rib stops him sitting up completely, nik meets his brother's eyes with a nod and a smile of gratitude. “how thoughtful of you,” he mumbles, reaching for the glass. as he does, alexei is quicker, knocking it over and letting the liquid spill across the table. 

“oops. i'm sure you can pour yourself another.” alexei grips his little brother’s shoulder, pushing him back so he sits upright, making nik groan with pain, his vision becoming hazier. “sit up, nikolai, what happened to your manners?” there is no orchestrated kindness in these words, only sadism looking for a fix.

[lapelduviide]

ESHA & INNA XIFENG

People want to talk to her. In the almost six months since she had definitively graced the city’s council with her pleasure, Esha had found herself overwhelmed with people demanding her attention. A colleague of hers, multiple decades her senior, had whispered snidely that she was too soft with people, that she would wear herself thin and make herself seem weak by giving everyone attention. But everything is politics in these circles and seeming kind and approachable is beneficial, too. Especially when there’s a hint of truth to it.

She listens with intent ears and remembers names with impressive skill. Patience has always been her greatest virtue, a trait that she needs if she wants Piltover to make the strides she wants it to make. A better city, for everyone. That same colleague had called her a daft idealist, once, voice maternal as if she was speaking to a young daughter. Esha was quite tired of her conservative fellow councillors as well as the people that stood on their side.

Fresh faces, because of that, are a welcome sight. She is one herself, after all, one of the youngest councilwoman in a long stretch of time, and even if it is nepotism that partly brings her here, she thinks herself a wind of fresh air. The woman that approaches her is young, too, and ( something she’s unable not to notice ) beautiful, too. Esha accepts the drink, smiles. “I feel honoured,” she says, appearing easily flattered. But she doesn’t do this for the fans or recognition, so it’s partly feigned. She shakes Xifeng’s hand, “Pleasure to meet you, too.” Mirroring the other, not even on purpose but simply by chance, Esha takes a small nip from her drink. “I’m biased, of course, but I do think it’s one of the finest cities on the continent.” A city of progress and opportunity: Esha just hoped to ensure that progress was made in the right decision, for the right reasons. “I did. Only a few streets from here, actually. My family has been here for generations.” To some, such things mattered. To others, less so. “Where do you dwell from, then? And what brings you here?” She gestures around, lets a small chuckle slip from her lips. “Not for events like this, I hope. We have much more to offer.”

it would be easy to scoff, to ask the councillor if ignoring the undercity is what makes piltover look so pristine, to ask what about people dying just from breathing the air down there makes this place anything close to fine. but inna has never taken the easy option, as it reaps the least rewards. she smiles, nodding graciously in agreement. “i've been to many places,” it's not a complete lie, but she's never been far enough, “and i'm starting to agree.” but the only thing, or person, that's truly caught inna's eye since returning to piltover from abroad, has been her. she can't be too unlike the others, no one with no money can even set foot in this game, but there is something wildly different in this woman that inna wants to bring to the surface. “oh, very local. your parents must be so proud, youngest councillor in piltover history,” her smile isn't forced, her amazement made only of truth. “what a relief it's not a man,” she grins with a lightness that hides a cesspool of disgust.

“i don't really have a home, per say. but i've spent the last year and a half in noxus, beautiful city. but it does feel like time to take root somewhere, and, well, with piltover's recent technological advancements, where else should i invest my time and money?” her eyes catch the hexgates she finally got to experience for herself through the entrance to the balcony before a soft giggle leaves a smile etched into her features. “oh, these types of things aren't all that bad. they're always the same. sometimes the food is different, but the people are predictable,” her smile morphs into a grin, and her eyes trace the line of esha’s lips, “and then once in a blue moon, someone comes along who defies every box i've put people in,” her grin is curious and she reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching the councillor a little closer.

“oh, i've no doubt this city could offer me a lot,” to get her hands on hextech would mean an iron grip on the undercity, and a surefire end to her father's power. with hextech, it could all be hers. “i'm also certain i can give just as much back, if not more.”

[lapelduviide]

DAIYU & VISSARION

So he’s doing it again. Risking his back to buy Daiyu something. Time or opportunity, something she just has to grasp if she’s really thankful, but she isn’t sure if she can. “We’re not kids any more, Vissa,” she returns. “You clearly don’t want to do what he wants you to, so why are you … why don’t you give it a shot, huh? Why don’t you use this apparent inkling of a spine?” He starts to pace and Daiyu watches him for a moment, before stopping him in his tracks and grabbing his shoulders, “He’s not listening now, is he? So, what, he’ll find out and give you hell, and you’ll become properly obedient again and what then? The same over and over? You haven’t changed one bit, Vis, if that’s what you’re accepting for yourself.” But Daiyu had been ready to die, back then, and she was again, right now. Sooner dead than a piece on her dad’s board, where Vissarion seemed happy to be a pawn, hoping to one day cross the board and be promoted to something more powerful. “You shouldn’t want to get anything from him.” But he’d always been hungry, where Daiyu was willing to starve. She thinks she might pity him. 

“You’re not alive.” She does not say it to be cruel, but rather to be truthful. “Not like this. This isn’t living.” She lets go of him, steps back and crosses her arms. “You know what I want. I’ve been asking for it since we were young, but you clearly won’t give it to me. So fuck off, if this is all you have to offer.” She’s getting angry and it’s becoming hard, to find words that are reasoning, persuasive, useful. Daiyu feels a hurt she hasn’t felt in over a decade and she wants to cast it out, to push it aside, but it’s impossible with Vissa still in the room. “You know what? You grow up.”

she isn't listening to him, she never fucking listens. hurt and frustration are forced into the only outlet he knows: anger. it bubbles under his skin, leaves him itching to grab something, anything, and tear it to unrecognisable shreds. but then she offers him something that isn't pain, and he stops dead under her touch. it's not like this is something new to him, vissa has spent his whole life picking up scraps of touch from his father, and he was good at it, much better than his half sisters. but such kindness was never allowed to grow between them. is this what running away with them would have given me? he thinks, would i be able to give something to the world other than spilling blood? would i be able to spare kindness?

he decides he wants to give her one last thing: no more anger. a parting gift, he hopes. she lets him go and vissa feels like he's falling, and of course there's no one there to catch him. the only memory of someone helping him back onto his feet is so cloudy and faint that it seems more like a dream than a reality. he takes a deep breath, eyes flicking up from the floor to meet his sister's eyes. “just get out of here, daiyu. please. live your fucking happy little life.” a sadness blooms in him and it's hard to hide, deflating usually proud shoulders. “если мы когда-нибудь встретимся снова, пусть это будет на другом конце света, или в другой жизни.” if we ever meet again, let it be on the other end of the world, or in another life. and with that, he heads for the front door.

[lapelduviide]

DAIYU & YOLANDI

The anger is thrown at her and Daiyu can feel her instincts demanding her to return it, to throw it back. That’s how she’d survived these past years, after all: she met every bark with a bite. “And you can’t blame me for being fucking offended after all the shit he’s put me – no, us – through.” Yolandi never really met Alexei’s cruelty as intimately as she had and Daiyu does not resent her for it, even if there’s a silent, childish part of her that is envious. “I’m not his anything, got it? I wasn’t his prisoner and I sure as shit am not his fucking pawn.”

Anger is easy. An endless ocean to lose yourself in and Daiyu, for a moment, considers giving into it. But she holds no rage towards Yola. She breathes, balls her free hand in a fist, nails pressing in its palm. “Yeah. Had a wonderful time. Free boarding and food, what a fucking deal, am I right? Better than most get ‘round here.” Sarcasm drips from her lips, a language that’s easier than the truth. The truth of how hollow and lonely she had felt, like her child-self. 

“It was difficult to find, so props. Nice art work. My nose looks off.” Daiyu hates herself as she speaks, and then shrugs. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave soon. Don’t want to …” Impose? Put you in danger? Ruin whatever peaceful existence you seem to have built up? Drag you into my mess? “Just wanted to see you. Tell you I’m alive. Shouldn’t stick around too long here, or anywhere, probably.” She sees the tears in Yola’s eyes and she wishes she could cry, but she hasn’t cried in years and she isn’t going to now. Once, she had considered herself so human and strong when she sobbed. Now, she’s a desert. Dried up. “What, do you want the gory details? Because I’ll spare you those. He killed him. It was quick. That’s all.” Daiyu can’t revisit those memories. She won’t voice them. They’re locked up, boarded away, redacted from her mind. What she can voice, however, is what she has thought on a loop for years, “I’m sorry I didn’t save him.”

she can't blame her. yola never knew cruelty like she did. always the outsider, looking through a window into the way volkov's live. she was the lucky one, she knows that, and she'll never take the love she was given for granted. but it doesn't take away from her reality, where people who once stood by her father are now profiting off his absence. nik valentine kept them all safe, and now no one thanks him anymore. that rage makes her paranoid and ready to scream. “i got it,” she bites back. after all, she doesn't know how to give in without kicking and screaming.

“did you see anything? anything out of the ordinary?” this, she gets from her father, making the decision not to let an issue fester. more information is handed to her and to fight the process of letting her emotions win, she strives to solve, to fix. but her heart has other ideas. “i did look for you, by the way. i did.” yolandi swallows, her gaze meeting the floor again. “i'm sorry i didn't look good enough.” she was just a kid, she tells herself, but she can't help being consumed by what ifs.

at any other time, yola would laugh, maybe tell her sister that she's lucky the mural looks like her at all without her likeness left around. but then talk of leaving finds it way to yola's brain and her eyes turn wide as she locks her gaze back onto daya. “no you fucking won't,” she demands, but there's fear in the way her voice trembles, “he won't find you here. and even if he does, we'll fucking end him. you can't—you can't come back from the dead and then just... leave.” she takes a few steps closer but stops a meter or so away, as if getting too close will reveal her to be a trick of the light. “i want to know if my fucking dad died alone with that monster, don't you think i fucking deserve that? after i had no one to fucking bury?” anger is always closely linked to sadness, it's armour, to protect the sensitive child inside from the unknowable number of people that would do her harm, and it pushes more tears from her eyes. and with that apology, the anger melts away completely, leaving only grief. yola closes the distance between them, hugging her sister like her whole world depends on it, almost suffocating with her grip around daya's waist as her body is wracked with sobs.

[lapelduviide]

DAIYU & NIKOLAI

At least meeting the barrel of a gun isn’t something that shakes Volkovs like it might others and there’s a ghost of a smile on Daiyu’s lips as Nik quips at her. “Evening,” she says in return, watching him from where she sets. They have been on the run and in hiding for long enough for her to not have to put everything in exact words. It always seemed like a matter of time until the hammer would fall, until Alexei’s fingers would reach them and mess with their lives once more. But she had grown optimistic, carefully so, hopeful and comfortable and foolish. 

She does not like being the one to break the news to Nik. She dreads having to lay out her plan, when she knows he will meet it with a curt no, when she knows it will be yet another battle. She sips her beer and watches Nik ring Yola, glad that he seems to understand what is going on without her having to explain everything in detail. 

“Vissa stopped by. He wanted to tip us off.” Or rather, probably just her. Daiyu speaks in short sentences, her throat tense and making it hard to be her own, yappy self. “He left about an hour ago, I think.” She nudges one of the bags with her foot. “He knows where we are. So we have to go.” Daiyu swallows, gives a self-aware smile. “Or rather, you should go. That’s what I’m thinking, you and Yola get the fuck out of here and I buy you some time.” She had abandoned her siblings, over a decade ago, and maybe this is what she needs to do to make it right. To return. “And I know what you’re gonna say, but I’ve thought about this, okay?”

every word out of her mouth pulls his heart further and further through the floor. dread is a disease, it threatens to freeze him up and accept something brutal, but to this day, it hasn't succeeded, and he wants to keep it so. a desire to live is a powerful thing, a never ending stream of sparks, ready to fuel even the most desperate of plans. desperation is better than giving up. there's no time to waste, so nik opens daya's bedroom door and starts to pack her a bag too, leaving the door wide open to continue this maddening conversation.

“you probably haven't thought about it enough,” he states, resolute, “we don't even have time to be arguing about this, we don't have time to be waiting for yola to get home, we should have been gone half an hour ago. so please don't fight me right now, okay? we can talk on the way.” he comes out with the bare minimum in a bag, and drops it at her side. “if you have an idea that doesn't include using yourself as bait, or a, i don't know, sacrifice? is that what you're thinking? then i’m all ears.” she's not easily swayed, so he can't fathom what's made her suddenly disregard her safety and happiness. “what the hell did vissarion say to you?” he questions while he raids every hidden spot in the flat, throwing guns into his bag and arming the odd trap in the hopes of getting something close of a fuck you to those hunting them when they inevitably come looking.

[lapelduviide]

—  INNA XIFENG & ESHA.  ( @poseihdon​​ )

it almost doesn't feel true. she stands amongst piltover's elite, wearing garments not seen amongst miners and criminals. after all, there isn't a market for pretty dresses with people who have to steal their evening meal. inna holds her head high in the sea of diplomats and rich merchants, as if she's always belonged there with them, as if she isn't still coughing up the thick air of the undercity. and while she feels in her element, she does not feel like she belongs. these people would see the undercity suffocate before lifting a finger to help them. but she is not here for justice or anything righteous. inna wants to see these people beg for what they have, and take it all from their grips anyway. and maybe, just maybe, if piltover moves to the beat of her drum, she can rid the undercity of him. 

drink in hand, she makes her way around the party, whispering temptation into the ears of those with large pockets. invest in me, she says to them, you won't regret it. in piltover, she is not inna volkova, daughter of alexei. here, she is xifeng chen. a name lost to her too many moons ago to count. a devil in the clothes of a ghost. here, she is just a merchant, dabbling in the expensive and rare items piltover has to offer.

inna excuses herself from a particularly boring turn in conversation with a amicable smile, and as she scans the room again, she finds a face that's far more enticing than the rest. councillor vempati. she approaches gracefully, having picked up two drinks from a waiter that crosses her path, and offering one to the councillor. “councillor vempati, it's a pleasure to meet you,” she begins, her smile warm and inviting, “i’m a big fan. which is a lot more than i can say for anyone else here.” in reality, the councillor while clearly not a stupid woman, has an air of malliability about her that sparks idea after idea, all of which are nothing short of selfish. who better to have wrapped around her little finger than the city's most up and coming councillor? “xifeng chen,” she reaches out a hand to shake, “i've not been in piltover long, but it certainly lives up to expectations. city of progress.” she takes a sip of her drink, smiling brightly as she swallows, “did you grow up here?”

[lapelduviide]

DAIYU & VISSARION

Suddenly, she feels foolish. Stupid. It’s a feeling she hasn’t felt in quite some time, in all truth, an emotion that reminds her – like so much does, right now – of childhood. Of having two siblings so much smarter than her overshadow, with her brain never seeming to be on quite the same level as theirs. Vissa turns to anger, to venom that he attempts to aim at her chest, and while she feels the daggers being pushed into her organs, she also feels the startling realisation that she had been wrong. About him. About his intentions. Had she been so blinded by her feeling of righteousness, her anger, her loneliness, that she couldn’t see it?

“I’m sorry I’m not good at playing the mental gymnastic-four-dimensional-chess that all of you seem so fucking fond of. When I do something for any reason, I’m pretty fucking clear about why I do it,” she bites, her intentions and heart both worn on her sleeve. “Whenever I tried to get the three of us to work together, there was no ulterior motive, there was nothing besides me — I just wanted you on my side, for me to be on yours. He wouldn’t have killed all three of us.” She is growing tired, remembering the years of her childhood that she has marked as Do Not Think Of in her mind, trying to paint a more correct picture now that Vissa colours the picture with his intentions, too. It’s like trying to put two puzzle pieces together that simply don’t fit. “So maybe I didn’t fucking get it, no, because you were really fucking convincing in your role. You never, you never thought to maybe talk to me straightforward?”

Mention of Inna has her muscles grow taut. She feels the smoke on her tongue again. The burning building. That it had been Inna that pointed Nik in her direction isn’t something she understands, but it sounds true enough. “Do you think it was up to me? If it had been, I would have dragged both of you with us even if it had been a lia-fucking-bility, but it wasn’t. I was a kid. I was a kid and Nik offered me a way out and I took it and every day since I’ve lived with the guilt of leaving you behind.” She grows quieter when she adds, “But I would have died before turning eighteen if I’d stayed. You know that. I know that.” Either at Alexei’s hand or her own. Maybe even at Vissa’s, if their father had demanded it of him. Daiyu listens to Vissa, registering his words but deciding to do nothing with them. If Alexei wanted his hands on them, he could have one of them. “Right. Okay. Thank you for the head’s up and not much else besides it, then.” 

maybe they're more similar than either of them ever realised, because those games have never been his forte either. to inna, it's like breathing air, but for him, he's barely keeping a level expression as he drowns in it all. perhaps the key difference is how good at hiding he is compared to her. hiding was never in her nature, and vissa barely remembers a time where he was true to himself. “fuck, you really still don't get it? we knew you weren't lying, that's what made it so fucking dangerous. he might not have killed all three, but he sure as fuck would kill two to teach the one who gets to live a lesson. he finds out everything. everything. he'll probably find out i tipped you off.” fear bubbles up now, and collected arrogance melts away to expose the beginnings of a boy who lost his way many, many years ago. vissa begins to pace. “you think he wasn't watching everything we did? straightforward gets you nothing good back there.” he stops, running a hand through his hair, as if that will relieve the panic. as he stops, he wonders if this is her speaking truth now, or if in all this time, she's learned to lie. she must have, to some degree, shedding her name like old skin. either way, it's of no worth to him now. maybe he'll never be good enough for any of them. 

at least there's something they can agree on. “yeah, you would have. it was in your eyes sometimes. at least we're both still alive, right?” he wonders if she'll agree at all, or if all she sees is an enemy. “what the fuck else could you possibly want from me? dad's head on a silver platter? a magical train ticket that'll take you to fucking dreamland where all the bad people can't get you? grow up. you should be thankful you saw me first and not him.”

[lapelduviide]

DAIYU & NIKOLAI

Vissa has gone and left a trail of Russian frost in the flat. Daiyu forgets her hunger, forgets all the things she had planned for the evening, and starts to move. She grabs a gun from a bedroom drawer and tucks it in the waistband of her jeans, before intruding on both her uncle and cousin’s ( father and sister’s ) spaces and filling bags with their belongings. Not her own, though: those she leaves untouched.

Eventually, she ends up crashed on the couch, duffel bags sat on the coffee table in front of her. A bottle of beer rests against her forehead, her breath shaky as it exits her lips and she waits. When there are footsteps outside the front door she is quick to place the bottle amidst the mess on the coffee table before grabbing her gun, which lays next to her. A precaution. A precaution that she points at the door, safety turned off, cocked. If Alexei were to enter through that door already, she would greet him with a bullet in the knee, shoulder and gut. 

But it’s Nik who enters, and Daiyu lowers her weapon and flicks the safety on. “Lock the door behind you,” she says, which hardly explains why she held her uncle at gunpoint moments ago. “I’ve got some real shitty fucking news.”

whatsapp from yasmine: i'll be home soon, just dropping off some stuff to matt's

locking his phone, nik slips it into his pocket, quelling the ever present fear that comes with not knowing where his daughters are at all times for a short while. it leaves him unarmed as he unlocks their front door, expecting to walk into the sanctuary they'd built for themselves away from the eyes of any volkov and be welcomed. but instead, he's met with the business end of a gun barrel. it makes him pause, brows furrowed looking at the wielder. “good evening to you too,” he quips, pushing the door shut slowly. nik's hesitant, but he follows her order, reaching a little further to flip the lock.

dread begins to set it. first, it's her words. then he notices the duffle bags on the coffee table, considers how she uncharacteristically aimed her gun at the door. there are few things in this world daya is scared of. but there's only two bags. and a beer, opened. none of which are signs she's in any rush to go anywhere. next he thinks of what or who could have tipped her off. did his brother come to scare her in person? or did he send a ghost of their pasts to haunt them?

before he responds to her, he fishes his phone back out, calling yola and pacing while it rings. “you need to come home now—no, it's an emergency. i mean now. okay? i love you. see you soon.” she hangs up and nik walks over to the bags on the coffee table to check their contents. “tell me everything. how did you find out? how long ago?”