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@noxmourners
NO MOURNERS // NO FUNERALS
penned by FINCH
ELENA OCASIO ↳ 39, she/her, fixer for the mob. intro | threads | wanted connections | pinterest
BRESLIN ROYCE ↳ 49, she/her, mayor of new york. intro | threads | wanted connections | pinterest
AUGUSTINE BELL ↳ 43, she/her, co-leader of the contingency. intro | threads | wanted connections | pinterest
DAPHNE SAITO ↳ 32, she/her, insider for the signal. intro | threads | wanted connections | pinterest
The call for a meeting had come unexpectedly in the midst of everything currently consuming the Caravellis. Which had been why August's chosen location had not entirely registered. His focus there had been entirely on what she could possibly want and it was the only reason he had turned out close to midnight. As well as the reason why his security looked about as unimpressed as he did upon making their way through Marquee nightclub. One firm thought accompanying him the entire way was - she better not be wasting his fucking time. Not now. The death of his brother only equalled to the sheer amount of shit he was willing to put up with rendering at zero.
As he approached August on the roof of the building, his expressions remained still, no movement, no nothing. His blue eyes did however, take in her figure to see if there was an obvious concealment of a weapon. His own was tucked into his holster, mostly covered by his suit jacket. Her initial comment that broke the silence between them and not the bass thumping through his fucking feet, had been met with a faint nod. It was all that was warranted, especially when he held expectations of getting straight to the point, "What am I doing here, August."
Truthfully, the fact that Nico agreed to a meeting in her chosen location without resistance came as something of a surprise--the death of his brother no doubt ground everything within the organization to a halt. It was respect for her position, she surmised, a sliver of patience afforded her when few others might be granted the same. Best get on with it then. She studied him momentarily as she turned her next few sentences over in her head, both to ensure she spoke carefully and directly as well as to give her an opportunity to properly consider how things might go if talking deteriorated more quickly than she might have liked. She would be the quicker draw and the better shot given her occupation and the two decades spent honing that skill, but lurking security would end any advantage that afforded her in short order. That wouldn't last, and she figured she'd do him the courtesy of not beating around the bush.
"I was contacted by the Pantheon at the masquerade--they ordered me to send the boats back," she began. Even now the memory chafed at her sense of independence, and a muscle in her jaw feathered as it crossed her mind. "Better to follow orders at the time than to blow it up somewhere inopportune. That said... a member of the mob was murdered about five years back, one of your father's men. Evidence pointed to a soldier, angry over orders, over..." She trailed off, waving her hand vaguely as she paced. It had been easy, creating a story and planting the evidence. Just enough to suggest a motive and lead them down a logical trail without too many specifics that might offer a contradiction. She was good at it, even then. "I killed him, and the trail that led to the soldier was an intentional misdirect." Her expression remained carefully neutral, but every muscle tightened like a coiled spring, sharp blue eyes watching for the slightest tell of violence to follow the admission.
LOCATION: the roof of marquee nightclub TAG: @nicocaravelli
She needed to be out from under the secret the Pantheon used to control her, and it needed to be yesterday. The escalation of fires dotted across the city did not bode well for any of them, and if they'd manged to make August do something small earlier, she couldn't quite imagine what would come next. It meant that despite the efforts taken to maintain her anonymity, she needed to take the hit to her pride--and possibly safety--in order to ensure she could move forward without waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The roof of the Marquee near midnight wasn't a conventional meeting place, but the glow of lights in the city below and the bass that thundered loudly enough to be felt through her feet provided a level of invisibility that gave her some comfort. The brighter the light, the deeper the shadow, and she would use that to their advantage. August idled, rocking from heel to toe slowly with her hands in her pockets and jaw set, willing the frenzy of nerves back down as the minutes ticked by. She didn't wait long--Nico came into view within a few minutes and she inhaled slowly to steady herself. "Thanks for meeting me despite the strange location."
Location: Minnie's Farm Starter for @noxmourners
Minerva had already been awake for a few hours. She had taken the time to clean up her room, get a pot of coffee starter and water her plants. Her mornings at the farm were always the most peaceful. She slept the best and it was extra comforting to know that August was in the guest room. Though at this point Minnie joked that it was just August's room. She fixed August a cup of coffee, gently pushing open the guest room door so she didn't fright her. She took one step and saw one August open her eyes. "Damn, I'm not stealth at all." She set the coffee on the nightstand before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Ooo is that drool I see on the pillow? Damn girl you really slept hard. I didnt know I tired you out like that," she teased. They had spent the night playing stupid video games Minnie had set up on the TV. "I hate to break it to you, but we're officially washed. Can't even stay up after midnight anymore." She moved to put her weight on top of August just to bother her and let out a loud sigh. "What do you want for breakfast?"
August didn't sleep late. The military beat a routine into her that she'd yet to shake for the most part, and that included a 5:30am run followed by a decent breakfast and ample time spent with her dogs. Today, however, she woke some time later--late enough to see the sun peek through the window as she listened to the sound of her friend move about her home. A pot of coffee brewing, silence, and then the door pushed open quietly and August followed her friend's movement to the side of the bed. On her other side lounged Millie, who only moved to rest her head on August's hip in order to more properly watch the new arrival make herself at home.
"I don't drool," she joked hoarsely, then grunted as Minnie rolled some of her weight on top of her like an overly-affectionate cat. With a dramatic sigh, she pushed her friend off her in order to sit stiffly and comb her fingers through her hair, effectively ridding herself of woman, dog, and blanket all at once. "I can stay up to hours you've never even heard of," she joked as she took the coffee from the nightstand and drank. Truthfully, she was past the age of being able to sit on a couch for hours and not feel it the next day, even if video games were a fun way to blow off some steam. "I dunno. Something with eggs in it. What's in your refrigerator?"
❧ @noxmourners (august) // august's place
It had been a while since Stella had last seen the other. Honestly, as long as a person was busy time just seemed to fly. When was the last time they'd sparred, or even just talked properly? With the fires and everything else, her request to Aslan to keep her busy as he could manage, not much space had been left.
"I brought takeout. Not sure what you wanted so just take your pick." She'd brought a few selections, having gone for smaller dishes but more so there'd be something to choose from. If nothing else she could take it back home and have the rest of the next day or two.
"Girl did you get samosas?" August opened one of the offered bags and pulled out the little box, popping it open partway to see if she was correct. Much to her delight, she was, and with a pleased hum, she closed the door behind Stella and headed towards the kitchen. She'd spent much of the day going through the information her handful of private security hires acquired, sending things off to Leah or Harry in order to delegate some of the follow-up to their own people. "I take it Aslan and Harvey have kept you more than busy? You miss me so much you needed to ply me with takeout?"
"As if the rest of this city is decently priced." Maeve was quick to bite back, even if it was down to simple banter. It was almost too easy to slip into that after their extensive history, even if, more often than not, it was just too complicated to manage. Still, Maeve liked to take it one day at a time, because anything other than that was simply too much. "It was almost okay given the pretentious crap you could find here. Although, that's no reason to burn the place down."
Despite everything that had gone down between them, it was almost too easy for Maeve to notice the shift in August's mood. Not that she could blame her; a place like this wasn't exactly suitable for anything other than mourning, so when the offer came up, it was almost too easy to accept it. "Only if you're buying, boss."
"Yeah, yeah, city expensive, wages stagnating, Harry isn't getting you paid well enough--" she teased with a flippant wave of her hand. Though she hardly considered most of the goods in the former corner store pretentious, it did truly have an almost useless assortment of goods. Enough to look like a normal little bodega, but nothing good enough to keep people coming back, which might invite more scrutiny than desired. The word boss earned Maeve an eyeroll as August shoved her hands into her pockets and turned on a heel towards the place she had in mind.
"There's a little wine bar a couple blocks down. Its that alright or have your tastes evolved to hundred dollar glasses of whiskey and quintuple-distilled vodka?" She couldn't stop herself, tone light but the sarcasm heavy as she turned to walk backwards in order to look properly at Maeve. "And yes, I have the first round, since you're so obviously broke."
Leah had decades of time to learn how to hide her emotions, to shift through rooms and places without ever showing just how much was hidden behind the curtain she surrounded herself with, for the most part rather proudly. It took a lot to bring her to the point where the anger she felt was bleeding through, only to be calmed mildly by the mention of Troy and Harvey. Two rather competent people. "Well, with the three of you perhaps there'll be something to be done about it. Let me know if you need anything. I have plenty of connections in the tech sector. I may have left that life behind, but that does not mean I left those people in the dust." Well, only part of that was a lie. A small one, even.
"Can you imagine? This, becoming a scandal to reach beyond the borders of New York? First losing control to these faceless ones and then potentially to a whole other bunch?" Perhaps her need to fight was stronger than to let anyone else take charger than them, these people, not strangers. "No. Nothing thus far. I very much hope it stays that way." She turned, her eyes burning with something furious. "What about you?" Her desire to know was strong. ❧ @noxmourners
"Might need you to babysit either Troy or Harvey," Breslin murmured as she rubbed her eyes briefly. The two didn't hide their disdain for each other, which added a frustrating layer of difficulty in a time when they desperately needed to show a strong, united front. She couldn't help but agree with Harvey, however--they needed outside help, even if just to pull a few threads considerably less likely to lead back to the group escalating violence in their city. "They've been okay so far but... you know. They're not fond."
Breslin took a long sip of her drink and idly skimmed the crowd as she listened to her friend, trying to find some avenue to lead them forward before things became even worse. "Just the once, and when I didn't play they told everyone I dodged an assault charge." A pause, followed by a quick but absent grin as light eyes returned to her friend. "Hard to blackmail someone who doesn't have anything else to hide, I guess. If they contact you, though, please tell me? Maybe I can help. Maybe I know someone who can help."
Brown eyes had fixated upon the same paragraph of the fire report for eleven minutes. She knew it was eleven minutes because she'd looked at the clock at 5:47 and it was now 5:58 and the words before her hadn't gotten any easier to digest in the interim. Nor had the time made the arson described any easier to sit with. All it'd done was echo the reminder that Dior was gone.
The knock pulled her attention upwards to find Breslin in the doorway, an appearance that had a genuine smile breach Gianna's features. It was all credited to Breslin's presence, something that had ran ease through her whether consciously or not. "Yeah." The word came out quieter than she intended, some of the performance failing to slot itself into the forefront the way it usually did. "Yeah, I'm free. Zero notice is fine. Actually, might be better." Closing the folder as she stood, her slightly tired eyes found Breslin's when she rounded the desk. "What're you thinking?"
Her smile mirrored Gianna's without meaning to, relieved to see the younger woman appeared to be in one piece if certainly weighed down by the mess of it all. With a quick nod, Breslin stepped to the side to allow the other through the door, then pulled it closed behind her before she led the pair of them slowly down the hallway. "There's a little shawarma place closer to home, I thought maybe a quiet dinner might be nice," she suggested, "Kind of a hole in the wall--nothing fancy--but I think a change of scenery might do us both some good." What worked for her in the weeks following her father's passing was something to keep her from ruminating, and with the fires repeated and dissected from every angle on every television and in every newspaper, she imagined Gianna could hardly escape it. "Though if that's not your speed, I'm sure we can find something good nearby. I've got a car waiting."
He catches that split-second foray into the distance by madame mayor herself. Can she be blamed? Everyone copes differently in these tragic times. The important thing, Harvey has learned, is to keep going. It's shit luck, regardless on if you panic. "What? Have a couple of burns erased all my good looks and charm?" He teases Breslin, shooing away that disturbed look on her face. More to the point, to prove that he's untouched - at least where it counts.
"The entire city, then. Up and down." He reconciles. Even he knows some will be patrolled better than others. The rich always command better treatment. He should know, he's the one who's given it to them routinely. "Ah, yes, our illustrious AG. How long before he gets behind a mic and calls me the trash commissioner of New York?" Harvey ruminates, giving Breslin a pointed look. No secret that they are close, made loyal by shared bonds. But it would be remiss of him to point it out. "Yet I would think a joint front is what we need now." Put aside the politicking and scheming (for now). "No, I haven't. Still waiting for their calling card to show up in these hospital lunches. Have you?" She's the source of power, after all. Wouldn't they turn to her inevitably?
"You had charm before?" she teased, lips twitching into a brief grin before she allowed him to dismiss her obvious concern for him. She had a good poker face, one honed over years spent across from judges, criminals, and law enforcement alike, but alone like this thoughts tended to slip whether she wanted them to or not. He seemed in good spirits at least, and that accounted for a lot these days.
Despite his agreement, she knew it wouldn't quite be the same. Someone with their name on a building would complain or express their grave concerns over loss of life and property, and why shouldn't theirs be top of the list? For all they've done. Her jaw tightened briefly at the thought, gaze a thousand miles away, but only for a second before she snapped back to the present. It was no secret Harvey and Troy didn't get along and no doubt Breslin's bond with the attorney general chafed in situations like this, but she couldn't really abide sniping at the moment. "Take it easy," she warned gently, words briefly taking a tone akin to an admonishing parent.
"They already did," she said, "Apparently the worst thing I've done is dodge and assault charge two decades ago." Give up her secret in exchange for three people keeping their own--it hurt, and she'd surely see the damage during the next election cycle, but she'd survived it. Bigger things happened, news outlets and public attention shifted, and she'd escaped it nearly scratch-free. "If they contact you, let me know. Maybe we can figure out a way to get you out of whatever they ask you to do."
There was neither a point not realistic opportunity to deny that the other was skilled, held herself in this game better than anyone she'd met thus far. Missed opportunity to learn. Then again, they both had things to do back then so she supposed there would be plenty of chances in the future, should they want to practice this.
Ginny observed the other, immediately moved over though held herself at a distance. Caring and wanting to fix, those were things that came natural to the blonde. "Is that doing okay?" She pointed at the little wound, a mix of doctor and friend making their presence known. "It seemed too well orchestrated. I can't tell if me smelling the scent of something flammable was fact or just my tired brain telling me that none of this seemed natural." She didn't know, truly but natural causes did seem unlikely, didn't they? ❧ @noxmourners
Tension zipped through Elena as though she'd touched a live wire, spine straightening and her shoulders rising as her friend immediately drew close, stopping just short of actually checking the injury herself. Though she was grateful for the care, the sudden attention put her on her back foot, and she managed an awkward smile as she fidgeted with the cue stick in her hands. "Yeah, it's fine. Uncomfortable sometimes and it's still hard to do my hair properly, but it's healing alright. My last visit with a doctor for a follow-up went well. I promise, I'm okay," she assured Ginny gently. With a steady inhale, she stepped around her friend and took another shot, mind elsewhere.
"Hopefully we'll figure all of this out soon. I can't imagine what else they might do to escalate again." Elena straightened, eyes a little unfocused as she considered what might eventually be her own predicament. While she hoped the mob might help her if some secret of her own was used as blackmail, the fact that she couldn't even imagine what they might use against her was a cause for concern. No contingency plan, just a vain hope that they'd leave her alone despite her connections.
Throwing open the door of his run down apartment for another wasn't something he did often, but for Elena, at any given moment, it was a given. "I don't know what you're talking about," he shrugs, lent against the door, picking at a particularly stubborn piece of peeling paint until flakes drifted to the floor, "You look the same as you always do." In jest, he offers little more than the menial curvature of the corner of his mouth. Neither questioning her state nor bringing attention to the differences they both sported. His hands, while mostly healed, remained a different shade of red and pulled tight across his palms. Shoving the door closed behind her, he meandered slowly behind. There wasn't much in the way of making yourself at home, at his place, but neither did he care enough to make it homely. It was just a place to sleep. "You didn't actually think you'd get something worth while out of me, did you?" Dry amusement dies in the light of his refrigerator as he tugs two beer bottles loose from the pack, "I'm waiting on the same people as you are, babes."
"You're useless," she drawled, tone whiny, as she flopped backwards over the arm of his couch with a dramatic sigh. From where she laid sprawled across the couch cushions, knees over the arm, she studied the red of his hands, noting injuries somewhat similar to Santiago's and Romeo's, a frown absently forming on her lips as she made the connection. Her own injury seemed so small in comparison despite the fear and chaos she endured at the time. The thought faded as Luca headed to the refrigerator and produced a pair of beer bottles, the sight of which caused her to right herself to sit more properly. "You are so smart and good at your job," she said, batting her eyelashes as she flashed a toothy grin before heaving another long breath and slouching slightly. "I'm not good at waiting. I'm not good at allowing people to make me wait," she lamented. This was important, lest they be caught off guard with another escalation. A bomb, fires... she couldn't imagine what else these people might do if not stopped before the next step. "Are you working on anything in particular?"
in his head it was easy to chalk it up to elena simply not giving a shit about santiago , but that frown said something different. it stung , a deep stung in his chest that quite frankly he did not like. dark eyes watched her movements as she seemed to almost want to reach towards him but he made no effort to reciprocate but something in his mind told him to let it go. santiago had always somewhat felt alone in his family , him feeling an anxiety he thought they didn't understand and even now -- as an adult , the whole ordeal brought back horrible memories he rather not remember at all.
" head injury is no joke , " and he knew she shouldn't have been drinking but even he did after his own injury so he wasn't one to preach health. eyes moved down to her touch , a part of him wanted to lash out and question why , if they were so close she blindly followed but then he thought --- what if nico would just do that to anyone who questioned him -- or worse. he liked to think he was the bigger person sometimes but truthfully , in the end --- there will always be a selfishness. " i'm recovering , " he paused. " but i'll never have full mobility. "
The space between them, the tension, it was never something she'd ever experienced with him, and she was more than aware it was partially her own fault. A muscle in her jaw feathered as she folded her arms across her chest as though it could protect her from that feeling of loss, whether she had a right to it or not. She never understood the fallout and certainly didn't feel as though she could ask about it--she'd simply done as Emil and Nico asked. He had to know that this was survival for her, that whatever loyalty she felt was true but would always come from somewhere self-serving and afraid. Just business was a cop-out and perhaps cruel, but losing any sort of safety net was something she wasn't sure she could weather.
"It's superficial," she assured him, lips quirking into a quick grin. "No concussion, just discomfort and a brand new flavor of night terrors to add to the collection." One arm uncoiled from around her torso in order to pick up her drink to take a sip, something to occupy her hands and her mind for a brief moment. "Hey, at least you can play the sympathy card for the next election, right? A shining endorsement from the mayor and that whole tough survivor thing." A half-joke, of course--she'd do exactly that if she were the one managing his image for such a thing. After a pause, she sighed and canted her head to the side. "We're not okay, are we," she said quietly.
Miray lowered the pads once August stepped back, her gaze following the restless circle of movement without interruption. The agitation beneath it was familiar to her, not in shape perhaps, but in function. She'd felt it herself more times than she'd care to admit. “No.” The answer came easily, absent any softness that might’ve made it sound comforting. Her attention drifted briefly toward the tattoos already inked across August’s skin before returning to her face. “You’d just end up with another tattoo.” A faint pause followed as she adjusted the strap against her wrist, then lifted the pads again. “Again.” Her voice remained even, her stance settling back into place. “This time, stop thinking before you hit.”
Miray was right, of course, though August's expression remained unchanged from the look of frustration. Half her tattoos existed from after her injury, which meant she had used them as some form of mental recovery, but that wouldn't do anything for this situation but distract her momentarily from what needed to be done. The fires were an escalation, and the longer her own secret held the ability to hurt her or her people, the more likely the Pantheon would use her as a means to take another step.
August dropped her hands from atop her head and rolled her shoulders gaze unfocused as she tried to put herself back in her body rather than her head. The slight burn in her muscles, the sound of her own breathing, the barely-there spring in the floor below her feet. The next few punches came a little less awkwardly, though with each she slowly shed the discomfort that came with focusing a little too hard. "Aslan handling things better than I am?" she said after one final punch, then flexed her hands slightly.
The hug was returned without hesitation, immediately grateful for any kind of contact that reassured her that she didn't have to do anything alone. Thud of her friend's heartbeat the best proof she could ask for that she at least was still with her. "Coming back. But we just did a short one if you want to go out?" An offer easily made when she felt like the only way any of them could get through the barrage of events was to lean on each other. She was all too happy to offer her time and company if it would bring some kind of relief, however temporary. "Could just go down to the river." It wasn't far but the sound of the water always soothed something in her, giving her something to focus on other than the noise in her head. Something that it sounded like August could use too. "Me neither. Kinda why I settled for getting out of the city." The tragedies just kept piling up, each event stacking to make it feel all the more suffocating. But fresh air often brought with it fresh perspective and while she knew it would do little to shift the grief, it might at least help her move through it easier.
August inhaled deeply through her nose and nodded, gaze moving back towards where Boone idled in his stall. "Yeah," she said, "Maybe just a walk down there to wade around." No saddle or tack in mind, just maybe on foot with a leadrope, or perhaps even bareback if he stood still long enough to allow it--she didn't have the energy for much else. "It was this or fucking off to camp in the mountains for a week, and that seemed a little too much like hiding or putting shit off," she mused out loud as she pulled a halter and leadrope from the hook fastened to the door to Boone's stall. "Sometimes I wonder if coming back here at all was a mistake, like I should have gone to Texas or California when I retired instead of home." She briefly looked up at her friend as she slipped the halter over her horse's head, then led him out through the open door as she waited for Grace to follow. "Maybe I'd have been happier."
" i have no idea what you are referring to , " he said with a toothy grin. however , he did know what august was hinting at though he liked to think their reputation for effectiveness proceeded them. he proceeded to move towards the chair , slowly sitting --- his body still sore from the whole ordeal , resting his broken wrist on his lap. " i am sure they have. " he nodded but he wasn't too worried. " they aren't just hiring anyone -- i imagine they are hiring people who at least have a vague sense of people's involvement. " within organizations , with secrets -- whatever pantheon could find. " i don't know -- " rare for him to say but truthfully , he was still a bit shaken by what had happened but he wasn't letting the thoughts catch up to him just yet. " do you think they work better in pairs or solo ? "
Despite the ease with which the pair joked, August's sharp gaze studied intently as he adjusted carefully in his seat, the pain of his wounds apparently at the forefront with every slow, deliberate movement. When he seemed to settle so too did she, if minutely, and slouched in her seat as she listened again. If the Pantheon used blackmail against the people in their organizations, it stood to reason they might use it with others to ensure the completion of other tasks behind the scenes, which meant she'd have to consider any of her contacts that might have a skeleton. August was observant, more so than people gave her credit for and she knew it, which meant she'd gleaned things from her friends and coworkers they no doubt preferred kept secret.
"Either," she answered with a half-shrug after a moment's consideration. "We're taught to rely on each other but everyone is individually capable. The recon work I did was primarily solo, but I was never truly alone, I had some sort of backup even if it wasn't necessarily at my side. Might be best to have them work solo though, they'll attract less attention. One marine's fine, two or more and they start looking a little too organized, you know?" She sat up, pulling her laptop closer. "One guy in mind did recon like me--he's older, mid-50s, quiet and mild-mannered, might be suitable for information extraction if that's what you have in mind. Baseline security I can probably manage another four off the top of my head, but given some time I could probably wrangle a few more. Does that sound like enough?"
Aubrey Plaza for the New York Times in September of 2024.
