unbreakable

“I can hear your whisper and distant mutter. I can smell your damp on the breeze and in the sky I see the halo of your violence. Storm, I know you are coming.”

[lukevxnwyn]

faye-piperton:

F U N. These things were supposed to be bundles of it. Yet the fallen angel of secrets found herself abuzz with different sorts of energies, ones that curdled in her veins and made her palms press against her elbows, her arms shoved flush against her bosom. There was more joy being obtained through the contemplation of the things going on around her, the observation of the actions of others - and the little black book was out, scribbling down details. In the recent happenings, she had decidedly split the little thing in half; the first half was still allotted for the gossip and the sins of others, the things she was told. But now, the latter half was dedicated to the details as though she was writing a story. She wanted this cycle to mean something. 

She wanted to be able to leave some mark on the world around her. Even if it was through the unfortunate reveal of journal entries and countless names and strikethroughs and descriptions from the mouth of a bleeding writer. 

Of course, one of the most beautiful plants she had ever seen sprouted near the apple-bobbing barrels. Listening with the laughter of children and the murmurs of adults in the backdrop, she found herself studying it quite thoroughly. The spines. The needles. The branches. By zeroing in on something like this, she was able to concentrate a little more than she had been before. It was much easier paying attention to the little things, and she needed to gather her thoughts.

She needed to stop thinking that something bad was going to happen. Needed to relax.

With a shirt tucked, he still held a presence of professionalism; though, with sleeves rolled up and a couple buttons left alone, the term could be used loosely. Which, for once, he didn’t mind. The festival was a chance to --- decompress. Maybe find some enjoyment, if not a little amusement. The two didn’t correlate for him, but if both were to happen, then who was he to complain?

He drifted, never staying at a stand for too long, easing his way around excited families and couples that didn’t know they were taking up so much space. ( And he felt their bond press against his chest, and he wished for it to stop h o w l i n g. )

Really, he was fine in only moving; the music was enough to keep his mind adrift, almost never lingering on what needed to be done. 

He passed familiar faces, waved at the ones who smiled at the sight of him, and gave minor thanks that some Blue Bloods were on his side. He wasn’t alone in his disapproval of Roan, and that sent him into a cheerier demeanor.

And in that, another face came into view; or rather, the familiar posture and a black book he recognized. He slowed and changed course, hands in pockets as he approached.

“Still taking notes wherever you go, Ms. Faye?”

[lukevxnwyn]

selenesmask:

Drip.

There had been afternoons in St. Agnes, occasions that she could barely recall, in which Selene would run a blade across her skin. The image on the trailer felt familiar, but the fair haired angel’s blood no longer dripped as fast as hers had and Ariadne didn’t cower at the sight of it.

All that precious blood, wasting away…

She’d seen the damage blades and fists could do on human bodies, crying women and cowering children running from hollow eyed monsters and into her arms. Ugly things, human things that had been hers to mold into better ones. The violence in those images was more that. It was blasphemy, treason, something that could destroy the world much more viciously than any petty human affair could.

“How would anyone dare to make a public spectacle out of this…”

The shock had held him frozen for too long. Oh, the days he would have flown into a deep rage and torn the world apart. The rage was still buried, of course, but it no longer sent him tumbling; no, it seemed to immobilize, to keep him still as the world continued moving.

It wasn’t until the vibration and rings of all the cellphones that his mind began churning to map what needed to be done.

Every human was smiling (and his gut churned in revulsion), laughing in their joy and the sense of something they could be a part of. 

           ( if only you all fucking knew )

It was automatic steps from there; his movements were soldier-like, rough and so close to violence. He swiped a phone from a boy nearby, taking little time to dwell upon the consequences as he grabbed the boy’s jaw to keep their gazes locked.

He wouldn’t remember how he lost his phone for a long while.

But that didn’t matter. Not like the text screaming at him, not like the way he clenched the device so tightly, cracks joined in dance on the screen.

So many joyful noises surrounded him. But some...some had some semblance of sense. 

“I can think of a few who would dare,” he said as he stepped closer to Selene. Some Blue Bloods wouldn’t handle the pieces in front of them; others could decipher the loose connections, of what Lincoln shoved in their faces. And maybe ---- “But only one comes to mind, and needs to be taken down.”

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: After I D R A G G E D it out of you.

Luke: Hm, looks as if we have more in common than originally thought.

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: No. It's you making it harder for me to find her for no good reason at all.

Luke: Pity. I assure you, even if you won't believe me, I told you all I know.

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: [ Overwhelmed with a desire to hang up ] If we lose Laney, it's on you.

Luke: Is this you giving the responsibility of finding her to me?

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: As much as it pains me to remind you, Luke, we are very much the same beings.

Luke: [ His laughter lasts too long; it's bitter and harsh, a sound that's almost U N N A T U R A L coming from the angel of destiny. ] I think we both know that though we share the same desire and were shaped from the same hands, we are still vastly different. A being, after all, is more than his species.

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: You living in the past and withholding information is going to be what gets Laney killed if what Lincoln says is true.

Luke: And I believe differently. Such is the way of being two different beings, Michael.

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: Just because I choose not to divulge everything I know to you, Luke, doesn't mean I don't have the answers. You haven't exactly been the most receiving person in the past.

Luke: Mmmm, I can't help it since you proved otherwise during Roanoke. You can roll your eyes all you like whenever I am angered over what occurred, but unlike you, I'm still trying to discover the answers to that disappearance. And you cannot deny that it MIGHT have to do with the Silver Bloods, since you k n o w some are HERE.

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: Well I can't answer on any of your matters as you constantly withhold things that I need to know.

Luke: Frankly, you usually don't have the answers anyways.

[vivaciousrobicheux]

Victoire wasn’t one to let stress get to her, in fact she was naturally a very rational and level headed individual. She was always, perhaps some might say, over prepared for most situations that could be thrown her way. She didn’t feel like she was drowning when she found a new stack of paperwork on her desk in the morning, she didn’t mind meetings and she enjoyed the power that came with holding seat as Head of the Committee. She could micro manage her life down to the very minute if she so chose to, so often she did, and it was very rare that she was ever late for anything. It was also very rare to find Vic looking frazzled, it was very rare to find her without a plan, without answers, without an explanation. 

But on this particular morning when she walked into the temporary office set up for the Blood Bank, and her eyes set upon the stack of paperwork that had gotten out of hand due to lack of time and the notes from the secretary post-it noted around her computer screen, she felt insatiable rage boil within her. The office was empty, she was the first one here, and as she walked behind her desk her eyes fixed upon the pile. As head of the committee there was an endless list of things that she had to deal with, and with the current terror in London that list had grown at least a foot longer. 

She was sick and tired of everyone coming to her for answers, sick and tired of the questions that she didn’t have answers to, sick and tired of their voice opinions and f e a r s. But not because she was as in the dark as they were and not because she was overwhelmed, but because she was SICK AND TIRED of pretending she cared. 

The green and yellow post-it notes bore the names and numbers of people she didn’t want to call and fake concern for, within the paperwork on her desk were documents and plans regarding a memorial fund raiser for the children lost at the 400 hundred gala. All things she harbored no sympathy for, and perhaps that was heartless and selfish, but she had distanced herself from the feelings that others let consume them a long time ago, and as the rage within her reached it’s peak her arms lashed out and the stack of papers were swept from her desk. They s c a t t e r e d, f l u t t e r e d and f l o a t e d to the floor, and with it drifted most of her rage. Looking up abruptly her eyes fixed upon the guest that now stood in the doorway. “What?” She snapped, brows pulled in tight, an almost terrifying look on her face. “I’m busy.” 

[lukevxnwyn]

Luke Van Wyn had numerous jobs in this lifetime, but only two mattered, and those two defined who he was: being Head of Domus Magnificat and being C.E.O of the Van Wyn legacy. Both held power in the worlds that shaped themselves to one in the current cycle. Long ago, he only had the chance of power in the red blood’s world, and when he didn’t have it, he was left scrambling toward the Conclave, struggling to place himself in a rank where he could do something.

And now ---- now he could do so, so much.

But there was a price to everything, and what he wielded had to be cared for. His presence was needed for both species: supporting investments for the humans meant signing checks for the blue bloods as the money poured to the company; compiling figures to keep the legacy afloat meant ensuring the Blue Bloods monetary future would remain as one of the few stable aspects to the Conclave.

It was difficult work, and some days he thought about what it would be like if he lived a cycle where he wasn’t stretched so thin. But there wasn’t any point in dwelling; his intentions were what mattered, and he intended for this aspect of his life to succeed so it would foster a ----- happier destiny.

And part of succeeding meant managing his time between the Van Wyn building and the Blood Bank. Though the latter wasn’t existing anymore, the people involved still worked. So he swept through the building and climbed the stairs to the temporary offices, about to charge through the halls and situate himself at his desk until he heard the C L A T T E R.

He paused, keeping himself back for a few precious moments. The sight of Victoire disheveled, her emotions playing so easily across her face --- it was uncommon, and something that caused a whisper in the back of his mind to say tread carefully.

When she whipped her sights to him, he forced himself to tilt his head, and only raise a brow ( he wouldn’t say what was lingering on his tongue )

“I can see that you are, but I thought we could discuss the fundraiser you suggested? I have time before I need to settle for my duties, and I’d rather finalize certain details now rather than later.”

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: Fucking comedian, aren't you? If I wanted to call someone to avoid answering my questions you wouldn't be my first choice.

Luke: [ He laughed, loud and H A R S H ] Oh, there you are judging me for something you were doing at the beginning of this call. I would have to say LIKEWISE, Roan, though you would never be the first person I call on any matters.

[briarbramblerose]

“O, if only that we lived in a world without hypocrites. That’s kind of you to say - it’s wrong, but it’s thoughtful. You don’t need to spare my feelings, Aamon; I haven’t any,” she said. Calixte downed what was left of her drink in a single go. “Not where our kin are concerned. Not for a very long time now.” She dabbed at her lipstick carefully with a napkin. Briar had regained her irreverent and impassive manner. She needed to approach the situation at hand as objectively as possible.

From the look of it, Aamon was already forming his own ideas. He was the Fallen Angel of Destiny; it was his purpose, and his burden, to see connections where others could not. This, coupled with the ominous way he proclaimed the incident a mystery, made Calixte feel apprehensive.

“I can see the cogs in your head turning. What are you thinking?” Briar asked, though she suspected she knew, at least in part, what he would say. If this incident were entirely unrelated to the Reaper’s appearance, the timing couldn’t have been worse; however, if the incidents were somehow related, that spelled very bad news for her. “Do you think this has anything to do with recent events? Or am I dealing with some opportunistic bastard who decided to make a meal out of Sienna and blame it on me? What does your instinct tell you?”

Calixte had often wondered if God had truly spared her, or if there were other horrors in store for her yet - if she had not been granted a pardon, but merely a temporary stay of execution. And what better way to punish her than to prolong her suffering? Calixte was too proud to voice these fears to anyone, though Aamon was unlikely to scorn her for it. She would not make herself appear weak before anyone, unless there was something to be gained by it.

[lukevxnwyn]

“Truly, interactions with others would be less frustrating. And what I said wasn’t means to spare your feelings; unfortunately, for most people, I am not that kind. I simply speak the truth when I say some look beyond your past transgressions.” A thin smile grew across his features, and he returned to sipping his drink as she dabbed at her mouth. The conversation, though pleasant, felt like one he usually had with other business executives. This was another G A M E unfolding, and he wondered how the cards would play between him and Calixte.

He remained quiet at her questions, only giving a hum to acknowledge he heard her. He let the alcohol wash down his throat, the final drops leaving him aching for more. But the drink was enough to sate the devastating thirst, something he which was grateful for; it meant he could concentrate.

“My instinct is a fickle thing,” he began, moving his finger over the rim of his glass once more. “Outright, it tells me it doesn’t have to do with the recent attacks. Digging a little deeper, however, I have a greater feeling it isn’t strongly linked to what’s happened; again, a means for distraction, but because it was available and would be effective. There could be an opportunistic bastard who has a vendetta against the Blue Bloods and you specifically.”

He shook his head. “There are so many possibilities with what little information we have. Which places us at a disadvantage.” His smile widened, not in comfort, but in coldness and distaste for the situation at hand. “I don’t know about you, but I dislike being the one with a disadvantage. I’d rather change that quickly.”

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: [ Rather mad. How mad? Rather mad... but rather mad is hella mad for Michael ] Jesus, I called you because I assumed that he had come to you first, not because I wanted him to come to me before you, A A M O N. Oh, yes, why spill something like that if you have no idea what I'm going to do with it. Because I definitely wouldn't do anything in the best interests of our blue bloods.

Luke: You didn't once before. And that is enough reason for me to question how you will deal with information. You don't like it? Talk to God about it.

[lukevxnwyn]

♦

“Did you really think you could slip away so quickly?”

He hummed, though a smirk easily slid across his face. “I’m afraid you would have longer-lasting fun with the others.”

Her grip tightened on the crook of his elbow, though her smile betrayed nothing. “I wasn’t going to miss the chance to dance with the best looking soldier tonight.”

Aamon’s chuckle was too small for the anxious mirth that filled the rest of the room. All the men were rowdy, drinks flowing through their veins as they held hands with the ladies crowding the area. Each were desperate not to let the silence linger; even with the band playing in the background, the silence of conversation meant minds would drift, and there was only one thought that would overwhelm them with horror.

                 {{ “You’re not supposed to interfere with human matters, Aamon.”                            “This isn’t interfering,” he says slowly, rubbing his forehead,                                   “It’s what should be done.” His conduit huffs, and he knows                             what she will say as she opens her mouth. “Thou shall not kill.”                        “I’m already forsaken. This – He will add this to my tab of sins.” }}

Azrael still held onto him, her fingers unrelenting with digging into his skin, and he swallowed the lump that refused to leave his throat. “I’m not going to be good company tonight,” he whispered.

“One dance,” she said, her voice stronger than his. He had to smile at that. “One song, and then you can return to your base.”

He licked his lips, letting both of their thoughts drift before he finally nodded. By then, the band had stopped to allow the light to focus on the pianist and violinist, and a smooth voice (one that wished he was Frank Sinatra) began to serenade the crowd.

“Now this can compare to the 1800s,” she mused, a devilish smile appearing as she led him to the floor. A hand rested on his shoulder; his pressed against the curve of her waist. She pulled herself too close; he pushed her back to a modest distance. 

“You’re no fun,” she murmured, and after that, they stayed silent. Maybe she drifted closer again, and maybe he let her. The song crooned over their heads, wrapping them both in the sound of solemnity. When she rested her chin on his shoulder, he took a quick breath and forced all his fear to his heart and locked it away.

Death wasn’t a stranger, but it didn’t make passing any easier.

“Remind Xi Wangmu to bring me back in a decent number of years,” he said, trying to make his voice light. “Tell him thirty years is pushing it.”

“I might tell him. I make no promises for something like that,” she assured, and he chuckled again. She wouldn’t tell him to stop talking of such things; they didn’t know each other that well. And yet, she had insisted this, insisted he took the time for something he could hold onto, and he was grateful for it.

When the song ended, her fingers tightened on his shoulder again, and in the next moment, her lips brushed his cheek. It was quick, something harsh in its warmth. “Don’t do anything reckless, Aamon. I hate to think your destiny would involve being foolish in war.”

“It has before,” he said, the corners of his mouth reaching to a smile that barely made it.

“If I hear about heroics, I’ll convince Xi that he shouldn’t bring you back for a century.” Pulling away, she released him, and she slipped into the crowd without looking back.

He closed his eyes, taking one breath and holding it.( Father, hear my prayer — ) In the exhale, he was gone, and the music sang a goodbye 

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: Jesus, Luke, this is the type of information I called you for and you decided to play tit-for-tat instead?

Luke: I had to fucking prod you for the reason you called and then you got petty because you thought Lincoln came to me first over this. You began accusing me and were being RIDICULOUS while I wanted to know what was going on. Your intentions were unclear; I wasn't going to spill everything without knowing WHY, Roan.

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: Well expecting the worst is what you do. What debt are you talking about?

Luke: Someone has to do it. Were you not listening? I said that Lincoln told me the Reaper talked about a debt with him --- one that as to be squared. Laney could very well be part of that.

[lukevxnwyn]

Call → Luke Van Weiner

Roan: [ Roan paused, moments away from resigning to the fact that Luke had ended the call ] Well I think that if it's got to do with anything, it's with the Reaper. Plain old kidnapping doesn't really appear to be his style, though.

Luke: No. If it's a debt to be repaid against Lincoln, it wouldn't be a simple kidnapping. [ He did try to sound clinical with the next statement, faltering on the last words. ] I would be expecting the worst.