Mirrors: What is your museās least favorite thing about their appearance?
Either his jawline, for being so slim and not as sharp as he'd like, or his ears. They're just big. Like they're not RIDICULOUSLY large or anything, but he's always felt like they were just like... 2% too big for his face.
Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back.
Time, I think. Like sure, he's an immortal vampire, he's got all the time in the world. But day to day, in the present, it's something he lacks. Not enough hours in the day to focus on the work Veritas needs done while keeping up the things that help him decompress. He's lost the time he used to have to write stories and make music, and I think he'd like that back.
Send one (or a few) to my muse and theyāll answer:Ā
Spiders: Does your muse squish bugs or put them outside?
The Dark: Did your muse sleep with a nightlight as a child?
Snakes: Would your muse ever keep an unusual/exotic pet?
Blood: Whatās the worst injury your muse has ever had?
Clowns: Does your muse prefer comedy? Or horror?
Mirrors: What is your museās least favorite thing about their appearance?
Tight Space: Does your muse ever feel that theyāre not living up to their own potential?
Closet Monsters: Does your muse hide any aspects of their personality/life from others?
Crowds: What does your muse think of big cities?
Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back.
Ghosts: Has your muse ever seen something they couldnāt explain?
Needles: Does your muse have a strong stomach?
Curses: Does your muse believe in good/bad luck? How about karma?
Heights: Is your muse a risk-taker?
Solitude: Name 3 things your muse couldnāt live without.
Fire: Would your muse rather be very cold, or very hot?
Failure: Has your muse ever given up on an important dream?
Abandonment: How would your muse win back someone who left them?
The Unknown: Is your muse a philosophical person?
Boogeyman: What position does your muse sleep in?
Falling: What does your muse think about falling in love or commitment?Ā
Change: What was a turning point in your museās life?
Disease: What does your muse do on a sick day?
Number 13: Does your muse believe any superstitions?Ā
Noise: Name one sound your muse finds absolutely unbearable.
Insects: Name something your muse finds gross or annoying.Ā
Dolls: Has your muse ever collected something?
Getting Old: Would your muse rather live 50 years loved, or 200 years alone?
Social Phobia: Does your muse consider themselves an outgoing person?
į“į“Źį“į“ź±ÉŖį“ ā the delusion of things being more beautiful than they are
Marcus Aiden Armitage has had his heart broken so many times he's stopped keeping track.Ā
The curse of a hopeless romantic, he supposes. A many who wholeheartedly believes in fate, soulmates, twin-flames and whatnot is simply bound to face the pain of a broken heart once or twice in his lifetime, and that's for your average human lifespan. Alas, Aiden has had his heart broken by a few fair women and he's broken many a heart in return.
In fairness, it'd been quite some time since Aiden's felt the ache in his chest. Most, if not all of his lovers had held his affections some three-or-four-hundred years ago. If the man thought about it for long enough, he imagines he could recall what those endings felt like. He could allow himself to remember the finality of it all, the sense of lossā
So why did that familiar burning, aching, tearing in his heart feel nothing like that now?
"I ran into Amelie," That shouldn't have been possible. "She was with another man,"Ā That shouldn't have been possible.Ā "I'm sorry, Aiden."
He wanted to refute the words spilling from Illya's lips- to lash out in anger, in a blind rage for such lies being told right to his face. He wanted to make Illya regret accusing his wife of such things, apologize for smearing dirt upon her character. Instead, Aiden finds himself... eerily hollow. Empty. So much so one could hear his fragile heart crumble piece by glass piece.
For there are a few sacred truths he knows for absolute certainty- the most important being that Illya would never lie to him.
Aiden knew Illya. Ever since he was a child, he's known Illya, and even as a child, Illya had never once lied to him. Even if the truth was the last thing he wanted to hear in that moment, Illya alwaysĀ told him the truth. While Amellie being outside the Kim family manor should have been impossible, clearly it wasn't. The younger man knew his pseudo-father-figure would never make a statement like that were he not sure of what he saw. If he hadn't confirmed it himself.
Amelie hadn't waited for him.
What was more than that was that she'd moved on entirely, walking along the streets with a new man on her arm. Aiden felt this discordant mesh of confusion, anger, sadness, heartbreakā and what hurt the most was that in the center of it all, no matter how small it may have been in comparison to every other emotion swirling in his chest, was understanding.
After all, she didn't truly remember him- he had Luca make sure of that. She would be safer hidden away, safer if she forgot all about him and the love they'd shared for two-hundred years. She wouldn't be a target, could never be used against him if she didn't remember him, if she was no where near Seoul. That was the whole point of leaving her under the care of Luca's family. A small, sharp, humorless exhale forced through the nose. She was definitely safer now.
The silence in the room felt like a dense pressure, like surface tension of a glass of water threatening to spill over. Illya said nothing, waiting for Aiden to break it. The soft ticking of the clock added to the glass, drip by drip. Aiden wasn't sure how long had passed before he took a deep breath. Amber eyes met Illya's with a vulnerability that only his father-figure had ever seen, the only emotion expressed on his otherwise stoic face.
It's 4am, months from the day Illya had given Aiden the news, ink long since dry on the divorce papers. He found himself in his study, cigar in hand burning idly as he sat in contemplation. Staring down at the silver band that hadn't sat on his finger in fifty years he wondered, where did it go wrong? Scratch thatā he knewĀ where it went wrong. He was a big enough man to see his mistakes and admit to them. The day he stripped Amelie of her memories, her life here with him in Seoul, of the choice to remain by his side despite the dangers was where it all went wrong. Truthfully, the day he left Amelie in the supposed care of Luca's family was the day he leftĀ her. He had been the one to end their relationship as they knew it. That was on him.
Even so, he would visit her when it was safe to, and never did he ever stop loving her. Slowly, though, the visits slowed. When he would once visit her with the changing of the seasons, over time it became simply on the equinoxes. As Veritas began to gain momentum, Aiden couldn't be away for so long. His visits slowed to once a year, and as the danger of simply beingĀ who he is increased, he saw her even less. Somewhere along the lines he fell into the pattern of visiting for a weekend every five or ten years, but he thought about her every day. He loved her every second of every minute of every momentā the thought of reaching Veritas' goal, to make a world safe enough to bring her home, spurred his every action.
He loved her, and he never stopped loving her, so why didn't his heart break?
Where was the burning, searing pain, the heaviness of his heart, the overwhelming grief? The regrets of not doing better, not being better- where were the stinging tears of Ā inconsolable sadness for losing the love of his life?
Where did his heart go wrong?
Why did he feel so hollow?
Why did he feel nothing?
Why did he feel relieved?
He took a pull from his cigar, the puffs of smoke swirling around his head much like his thoughts- wispy, intangible, but heavy. Burnt ash lingered on the cigar, grey and dull. Aiden stared at it for a moment too long before flicking it into the ashtray.
Because that was it, wasn't it?
His heart had broken, he had burned- years ago he had. Decades, even. All that remained was the ashes of what once was. Fractures had spiraled in his heart the day he left Amelie with Luca's aunt, and only now were the pieces starting to fall apart. Only now were the ashes piling into the tray. Because now there was no illusion holding his hopeless fantasies together. There were no more dreams of bringing her home, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close, kissing her pillow soft lips and smelling the sweet perfume he'd once sworn to know by heart (and now couldn't remember if he tried).
And when he really thinks about it, he hadn't had a dream like that in years.
He had been holding on to a dream from half a century ago. To memories of a love that he cherished dearly, but could never return to. He wasn't the man he once was when he had married Amelie, and in truth, he was never truly the man who married Amelie either. He'd kept so much of his nature, his life, his sins hidden from her. So much of who he was, she'd never known. Even if she had waited, she never would have been able to accept him for the man he was today, because the man he was today couldn't hide his nature even if he tried.
What it all boiled down to, in simple terms, was that Aiden was bloody delusional.
The fact that it took over fifty years and a rather harsh wake up call to realize the truth of the matter was testament enough to that. His marriage with Amelie had ended some forty-odd years ago, if he were being generous. Fifty were he being honest, but seldom was Aiden an honest man with himself. He left her in a foreign country with no memories of their 200 years together, had completely had him wiped from her memory, only to torture himself by visiting her. His heart had broken years ago, every time he had to reintroduce himself to her, over and over again. Truly, he should have realized it was over when that stopped hurting.
Warm candle-light glinted off the silver band sitting on the wooden desk before him, and Aiden couldn't tell if it mocked his stupidity or not. Snuffing the cigar, he sighed before gently picking up the ring, as though it too might shatter any minute after being broken for so many years. Turning it over in his hand, he could only whisper to the empty room.
Hours dragged by, and sheād easily run out of things to do. Thanks to her workaholic work ethic, she had no code to restructure, no digital architecture to plan outānothing. Sheād exhausted all work-related avenues before she decided to start working on something a little top secret. At least for now. Sheād show someone when the time was right.Ā
It was in the throes of this that she heard a knock at her door. With some swiftness, she closed her laptop on the application she was working on and smiled as she turned in her chair to reveal her boss, his tall frame leaning against the doorframe to her office. Her eyes took in his meticulously crisp appearance before she looked away, hoping she hadnāt stared at him for too long. āFunā¦if only I knew what it meant,ā she joked, before scrunching her nose.Ā āBut I hear the party is for you. Youāre kind of late if thatās the case.ā
The man hummed,Ā āHn, not late enough, as luck would have it. A proper shame, really.ā a sigh passed through his lips and he desperately wished a puff of smoke could have followed. he made it a point not to smoke in the building if he could avoid it, or at the very least, keep it to his office if he couldnāt afford to step out, and a smoke break sounded delicious right about now. Anything to postpone having to sit through the affair that is birthday parties with Veritas.Ā
It wasnāt that he had anything againstĀ Veritasā the majority of them, at least. The majority of the members, in some respect, were his family. An odd thought, but a fact. To an extent, he could deal with loud from his family. He practically grew up with Joon, after all. If he could handle seeing Joon develop through adolescence into adulthood, into whatever it wasĀ that they were at 500-something.
Five-hundred and twenty five, a somber voice in the back of his mind whispered. How many of those without your sweet Amelie?
He shook his head lightly, willing his mind back to to the present.Ā
Willing himself not to remember that heād lost count years ago.Ā
Aiden gingerly pushed himself off the door frame and found himself stepping into the office. Stalling the inevitable, he tells himself, as his lips part to speak. His usual deep, monotonous timbre laced with a twinge of something not quite desperation, but certainly grasping towards something he already knows isnāt there.Ā āThere wouldnāt happen to be any desperate security breaches that need to be dealt with, would there? Missing merchandise? Weird security footage that needs review?ā
Procrastination wasnāt exactly Aidenās forte, but there was never a bad time to learn a new skill.
/ĖserÉnĖdipÉdÄ/ ā the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way || with @rocky-maneoā
There were more than a few fair things in this life that Aiden could say, with complete and total honesty, that he hated. Parties were one of those things.
Being at the center of attention during a party was another one.Ā
He understood that Liz only had the best intentions in mind, but that didnāt mean he had to like it. He was a quiet man that preferred to keep to himself- he always had been, and more than likely he probably always would be. Parties, balls, galas- these big social gatherings would simply never quite beĀ āhis thingā, so to speak.Ā
The fact that he dragged on his work a little later than usual was expected, all things considered. He did a few more injections than he otherwise would have, analyzed more blood work than usual, took far more extensive notes than heād ever taken in his lifeā all in the name of padding out the time before heād have to drag himself to the cuddle room. In the end, heād only managed to add about thirty minutes to his time, which was a right shame for the amount of extra work heād done.Ā The trip back to his office to change shirts quickly had only added a few extra minutes, and before long he found himself with little else to do but to make his way to the party.
The echo of the soles of his oxfords padding against the concrete floors rang through the empty halls, and the southwest wing of the base had never felt so barren (save for the wee hours of the night when the only inhabitants of the building were his fellow workaholics). Itās really no wonder that the steady clack of a keyboard caught his attention, and truly no surprise that the point of origin was Rockyās office.
His knuckles gently rapped against the door to announce his presence before he let himself into her office. Content to lean against the doorframe, he raised an eyebrow in the kitsuneās direction, rare amusement in his tone as he spoke,Ā āPlanning on skipping out on the party? Surely youāre not wanting to miss out on all the...fun, right? Fun is what theyāre having?āĀ
āAre you smiling or is that a grimace? I canāt tell the difference.ā
Sometimes, very rarely, Aiden wanted to punch Marc in the face.
It wasnāt very often, but when it did, the need to punch The Other Marc was almost overwhelming. But, for Lizās sake, he would refrain from such actions. But honestly, sometime his remarks were just... throat punch worthy, if he was being entirely honest.Ā
āOf courseĀ Iām smiling, you moron,ā he just barely managed to choke out in a tone that didnāt entirely resemble a snarl,Ā āIām going to see my wife soon. I get to see her for the first time in nearly 11 years. I get to bring her home. Weāre making the city safe, little by little. Why on Earth would I be grimacing at that?ā
Aiden punctuated his statement with a long drag of his cigarette, feeling the hot, bitter smoke burn at the back of his throat the closer and closer he got to finishing it.Ā
āDonāt tell me, Liz finally got to you too? Honestly, tell me what it is about Amelie that Liz dislikes so much. Surely, she speaks to you about it. Amelie is a beautiful, gentle woman. I donāt understand what she ever did to earn this from you all.ā
After all the pranks pulled by the Terror Line, Aiden was veryĀ cautious about his office. He kept it locked at all times when he wasnāt there to be physically seated at his desk, had changed the locks, added new locks, and even had asked Luca to place down protection wards to aid in keeping out unwanted precenses.Ā
UnwantedĀ being the key phrase, there. Rocky was very welcome.Ā
Aiden suspected she had a hand in a few of the pranks, but she was an incredible worker with a brilliant mind, and more importantly, she knew how to sit in a comfortable silence. Rocky was one of the few people in the cartel who had the code to access his lab in the manufacturing bay andĀ permission to seek him out when needed. Everyone else knew better than to ever bother the man while he was at work.Ā
But today was a mere follow up in his office, nothing too serious. Theyād spent the better half of an hour already going over the prototype trackers for the drugs theyād discussed all those many moons ago, discussing the cost to implement it wide-spread, the potential to use them, or at least something similar, in other areas of Veritasā business endeavours-
PunctuatedĀ by a scuffling sound.
āDid you hear something?ā the Kitsune asked, head tilting in the direction of the sound.Ā āWas that a mouse?āĀ
āAn awfully large mouse to make a sound like that, donāt you think?ā crimson eyes fixed on the closet door he could swearĀ he just saw moving. He rose from his seat behind his desk and crossed the room, and if looks could start fires, the door to the closet would have been up in flames. He gave the door a solid kick and the thwack of the sole of his oxfords rang like thunder within his office space. Distinct screams of terror rang out from within the closet.
Aiden rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before opening the closet door, only to watch as Jaehyun, Kiha, Kitty, and J all somehow tumble out from the enclosed space.Ā
Kittyās hands fell on his knees as he began coughing wildly, face contorted in a look of disgust that seemed to be plastered on everyone else but Jaehyun.
āOH my GOD, Jae, that was fucking disgusting.ā
āYou canāt just let one rip WHEN YOUāRE IN A CLOSET WITH THREE OTHER PEOPLE!āĀ
āI think Iām gonna puke-ā
Aiden heard everyone gripe and complain about.... Jaehyun presumably farting in the closet and he could only feel his frustration and confusion swell.
āHow the fuckĀ did you guys manage to sneak in here. The door has three locks. One is a biometric. Iām... astounded.ā his head whipped around to Rocky,Ā āYou didnāt have anything to do with this, did you?āĀ
The shock on the kitsuneās face was apparent instantly. Her eyes widened and she jumped in her seat a bit, hands coming up in front of her as she claimed her innocence. While Aiden was distracted, the terrors saw their chance to flee. A snarl left the lips of the vampire as he dashed to the space just outside of his office only to watch the boys sprint down the hall and out of sight.
Aidenās only concern now was what the fuck did they do before heād gotten to his office.Ā
To say that Aiden didnāt feel those words rip through his heart would be a lie. Even though he knew the Gumiho didnāt mean it, not (too) seriously anyways, he still felt the pain in his heart that liked to remind him every so often that despite his claims, he did have one. Furthermore, Kitty was in it. Kitty was so very deeply embedded in his heart that Aiden loathed the day the little fox would be torn from him.Ā
Kitty, of course, knew damn well that the alpha vampire was weak for him. They hadnāt spent all these years together for the blonde to notĀ pick up on everything that made Aiden tickĀ just so. Truly, Aiden didnāt know why Kitty didnāt use that to his advantage more often, why he only used it for things life this.Ā
āKitty,ā Aiden spoke softly with a light sigh before pushing himself away from his desk, rising from his chair,Ā āKitty, wait.āĀ
Aiden was different at home. He wasnāt the same rough, volatile second-in-command that snapped quick, witty retorts dripping with malice. He wasnāt one dumb comment away from a migraine, one eye roll away from murdering the whole team and replacing them with undead henchmenā he was different. He was warmth, he was strong arms wrapped gently around the young ones delicate frame. He was hushed tones, speaking softly as he murmured apologies into the curly tufts of blonde hair.
āIām sorry, kitten. Truly, it was not my intention to upset you like this. I was merely concerned for your health and wellbeing, but if your heart truly desires it...ā he sighed in relent,Ā āthen you can have more ham.āĀ
It, perhaps, wasnāt the most brilliant idea in the world.
Walking right up to the borders of their neighbors to the north-west without an appointment could be risky any time of year, but with the social climateĀ being what it is in the world of the gangs it was especially ballsy.Ā Ā
The girl that stopped him at the border was... small, to say the least. Small, unassuming, one of the mostĀ neutral expression heād ever seen on someone since Rocky, and the most delightfulĀ scent wafting off her soured by the scent of dog. Despite her stature, she held herself with sheer apatheticĀ confidence. She did not shrink away or hide from his intimidating natureā she waltzed right up to him and stopped him from moving any further by her words alone.
He liked her.Ā
He stared her down with an amused smirk. Under normal circumstances heād love to mess with the girl, get under her skin, maybe even try his hand at tempting her over to the dark side, but he had incredibly time sensitive information he needed to relay.
āArsĆØne of Veritas,ā his low voice spoke softly,Ā āIād like to request an audience with Don Karma, and by that I mean I need to speak with him as soon as possible. A life is on the line.ā
š¼: what's one thing you've learned to take as a warning sign in any type of relationship?
š¼: what's one thing you've learned to take as a warning sign in any type of relationship?
āWell, if weāre talking about any kind type of relationship, respect. Any and every relationship, be it romantic, platonic, businessā itās all based off mutual respect. If someone does not respect you and value you for who you are, the things you bring to the table- if this is a person that merely seeks to utilize you to further their own needs- Iād call that a rather large warning sign. Learning to recognize when someone is using you to further their own needs versus genuinely wanting you around is one of the most valuable life skills one could ever develop.ā
š¾: a lone soldier? a social butterfly? or both?
A bit of both. I wouldnāt call Aiden aĀ ālone soldierā by any meansā no war can be won by a single man alone. He loathesĀ social events, though. Galas, balls, dinners- all those things the social elite partake in, heās always hated. Dreadful things, those. He prefers solitude in most situations, but he doesnāt mind the pleasant company of a select few.Ā
š: what's your preferred method of dealing with stress? + š: what's your idea of horribleness?
š: what's your preferred method of dealing with stress?
Depends on the cause of the stressor. If itās just stress, Aiden will often settle down with a cigarette, some whiskey, and a good book with some piano playing in the background next to a crackling fire (bonus points if itās raining). Sometimes he needs a creative outlet, and heāll seat himself in front of his computer and continue work on his novels. If heās enraged, however... that gets dealt with in The Basement.
š: what's your idea of horribleness?
āHorribleā is a subjective term in the eyes of the vampire. Many would call him horrible for his actions and ideals, and in the same breath would condemn others for the very opposite. Humans are horrible for striking out against that which they do not know- against what they fear, and thatās about all he can say.Ā
