a soldier on my own;

Coffee Run.

There were times even now Emery still thought about living in the wind himself. He was more than capable of leading such a lifestyle. It was one his particular skill set was almost tailored for. But for the first time in a very long time, he’d made a commitment he intended to stick to. It was certainly different than what he was used to, but he was gradually adjusting. Em’s gaze dropped momentarily, a flicker of disappointment coming and going in the blink of an eye at the man’s words. Em really shouldn’t have expected him to stay. And it seemed Orion was in far more peril presently than he realized. But his sudden shift in attitude was enough to prompt Emery to stick by his offer. “Absolutely. We had each other’s backs in that compound. That doesn’t just change on the outside.”

His mouth wavered between its stoic position and the hint of a grin. The compound. His memory had yet to falter there. Comrade, confidante, brother. They’d both be dead if not for joint efforts. For a moment, Orion smiled. “I’m glad I found you.” Even if the stay couldn’t be substantial. “Though I’m surprised. I didn’t think you’d pick a place like this to settle.” He expected to find him in Seattle as he occasionally did; hidden behind miles of greenery that provided both a safehouse. But Orion knew what group dwelled in the area, and his next thought came to smite his momentarily genuine smile. “Syndicate. You’re a part of it, aren’t you?” There were worse things to associate with, but Orion held little trust for anything of the sort.

#emery

naomi-carson

It was a completely minor thing in the grand scheme of things, but Naomi hated it when she ran out a of cigarette packs. How fast she burned through those things always varied. Somedays she could only have one or two and leave the pack completely untouched for a week or two. But on bad days Naomi could could through a pack in what seemed like a blink of an eye. Occasionally, someone would make the joke that one day those things would kill her, but she ignored it every time. Naomi was more likely to die in a puddle of her own or someone else’s blood before succumbing to lung cancer, especially since any internal damage she did to herself through her smoking habit would heal up instantly thanks to her power.

Right now, Naomi contentedly placed a cigarette between her lips and was about to continue on her way when she saw something she had never expected to see. Familiar faces were nothing new to Naomi since she always ran into them near the Syndicate stomping grounds, but this one was different. This was a person she hadn’t seen in years. This was someone that came for her before the Syndicate broke her out, someone she was sure that was a figment of her imagination or someone she made up as her sanity temporarily lapsed while in confinement even though the punishment and the torture after her failed attempt to get out the first time said otherwise. It had been years since she saw him or thought of him and yet here he was, leaving Naomi stunned into complete silence and wondering if she had finally lost it or if she was stuck in the beginnings of a twisted nightmare.

#answered #devouringbeast

The oncoming silhouetted shadow halted, replacing his attention from the ground to its change in pace. The shade revealed a slender figure, startled by something that wasn’t fear like Orion may have expected. Instinctively, his gaze switched on his surroundings. But her eyes were on him, and there was no lurking danger that could have caused her sudden altered route. He straightened, smashed the lit cigarette against the brick beside him, and stepped closer. The last time he’d seen her features had been at a sprint; charging at heavy steel doors sliding shut. He had rescued at least a hundred that day, but he would have traded back himself for her broken freedom. His fist had slammed into a mechanical exterior, left a gaping dent as he cursed at her captors from the other side. He knew what it was like to be devastatingly close to escape, and then drown in its failing catastrophe.

It had been years. They both looked worse for wear, no doubtably fending off a constant mental shift. “I never met you properly,” he began, a feeling of guilt swarming to come back to haunt him, “but I’m glad you made it. Out here.” Even though now neither place seemed better. “I did go back for you. I looked when you’d been moved.” Perhaps that’s when it no longer mattered and the Syndicate became involved. “Still, I am sorry.” I failed.

#naomi

5. & 14.

5. guilty pleasures

Above all else, chocolate. If you need to make a quick deal or get on his good side, a bar of dark chocolate is the way to go, strangely enough. This weakness would never be admitted, however, so it’s best to observe from afar and put the knowledge to good use later.

14. what it takes to make them cry

Though he is not prone to the action nor can recall a time when he’s cried within his lifetime, Orion does shut down. It can potentially be worse than the shedding of a tear. He suspects that if he ever did; the result would be from being the reason someone extraordinarily close to him was killed, especially if he himself was the murderer.

mandaloriangf

I’ve got two faces, blurry’s the one I’m not.

#[ once more into the fray; ]#currently very accurate

3, 10, 19

3. scars or painful spots

A life derived from pain will hoard its scars. Like most that have known the Initiative; damage can result in a number of both mental and physical ways. Orion is no stranger to phantom pain most days (especially where his night terrors are concerned) but his arm outweighs all else that has been done to him. It’s a scar in a different sense, and is a constant, grating reminder of a grueling past. He doubts the present or future will reveal much else. There are plenty of markings despite the jarring mess near his shoulder, ranging from precise nicks to crudely healed bullet wounds. The brute force of scarring, however, lies in his head. And if you could see all of it portrayed on his exterior, the image would be grotesque.

10. bad or petty habits

Though it isn’t often, Orion finds himself smoking the occasional cigarette. He could care less for its health hazards after all he’s been through, and delves into a pack of them when his stress levels hit a new level. He receives plenty of scolding from those he cares about, but stubbornly shrugs their protests off.

19. what-ifs or alternate timelines

Orion tries not to dwell on ifs. He can’t imagine his life having started in another way, and at its end he doesn’t plan on searching his head for another timeline. What happened has happened, and change is not possible. He is certain that everyone imagines something different at some point. It would be a lie if he hadn’t, too.

#answered #necroticemery

syndicate-memes-blog

send a number for:

their physical weak spots

their emotional/moral weak spots

scars or painful spots

best places to kiss on their body

guilty pleasures

their vices (physical or emotional)

bad memories or experiences

humiliating memories

fears or phobias

bad or petty habits

grudges and vendettas

what gets them flustered

ingrained habits or forces of habit

what it takes to make them cry

dark secrets or skeletons in the closet

regrets

things they’ll never admit

people they’ve indirectly hurt or killed, and how it affected them

what-ifs or alternate timelines

turning points in their life

#ask memes

I’m Such A Fool For Sacrifice || Orion & Ariadne

As soon as his hand lands on her waist there’s a smile that won’t leave her lips and she’s turning to face him without thinking, her goal of having alcohol pass her lips slipping easily away as it’s replaced by a different type of intoxication together. Fingers brush along his collarbone before coming to rest lightly on his chest, her other hand still lying loosely in his grasp.

All the while a voice in her head saying that it shouldn’t be this easy.

But she didn’t care.

Not when there was this much contact between them when she’d been so starved of it for fifteen years. Maybe she should have been more unnerved with the way such a simple, innocent contact affects her so when their lips haven’t even met yet since their reunion and a bed hasn’t been shared. Yet the whole thing is more intimate than any of the one night stands she’s had over the years.

Hazel eyes met blue as she searches for an answer to her unspoken question of whether he’s still fine with their deal considering that the volume of people in the bar wasn’t something either of them had been bargained for. If someone were to look closely they might see a certain softness hiding behind the glint in her eyes that usually speaks of trouble and recklessness. Except the only one ever allowed at such a close proximity was the man who held her gaze now.

Seemingly satisfied with what she sees there, Ariadne finds a smirk tugging at her lips, causing her to hold the lower one between her teeth in an attempt to maintain some appearance of innocence that she doesn’t intend to stick to. There’s a drifting of her lips closer to his, albeit to the side, using the excuse of the noise in the place for increasing the closeness that already existed between them. There’s a challenge in her eyes, daring him to make a move, though it’s barely visible through thick lowered lashes. “Nothing was wrong with it. I just wanted a change of scene.”

“We can always do that another time.” The words were said easily, as though the world now owed them unhindered and unrestricted time together that had been denied them for so long.

#ariadne #p: ariadne #I'm such a fool for sacrifice

Like most things with Orion-- it was a brief, fleeting moment. The moment Ariadne advanced he readopted his reclusive nature. The barrier rose with swift precision; shut out the emotions she dove for. His hand slipped from her slender waist, and metal digits unwound from flesh. He took one cautious step back for himself and denied her.

This is what he’d promised. No involvement.

“Aria,” Orion warned. It was an exhausting effort with a tone she knew well. It was when she pushed, far past any point he could allow. She was far from innocent. “I cannot give you what you want. Ever.” The harshness settled upon his tongue. It was a sharp conclusion that he was certain she’d expected, but had wished to be removed. Stepping past her advances, Orion addressed the bartender and slid a shot of Irish Whiskey her way. For himself, a glass of water found its place before him. No doubt she’d frown at that, too.

Hackles were raised as noise progressed. The space-- what little remained-- only shrunk with time. No matter how much Ariadne wished him to loosen up for a single inkling, it just wasn’t possible. Every shadow was an incoming missile. Every voice was a potential enemy. He was far too attentive with current situations in order to hold conversation.

Paranoia only remained paranoia for so long. Orion awaited its jarring reality..

It only took a few minutes of studying body language and patterns to ruin an evening. Then again, Orion was fairly certain it’d been ruined one foot from the apartment. There was always more than one man. He sipped water as if it were liquor. His spine settled against the bar’s edge as he leant back. An arm settled around Aria’s shoulders out of protective instinct.

Every so often the man would raise a hand to his ear and speak through a wire. “It’s time to leave,” he began cooly, returning his glass to the bar top, “out the front. With the crowd.”

I’m Such A Fool For Sacrifice || Orion & Ariadne

It had started earlier that day with a look of innocence in her eyes and a smirk on her lips completely undoing any of its effect. Next had come the bargaining, with just the right amount of pleading in her voice. “Just one drink. I promise.” To anyone else it would have been a bare faced lie but the stoic man she spoke to was just about the only person who could curb her craving for a drink and a good time enough for it to be the truth. Then had come the satisfied grin that he’d agreed and she’d gotten what she wanted, albeit it accompanied by a sigh form him but it still counted. With most people Ariadne wouldn’t have seen it as an achievement, it was usually too easy for her to get her way but Orion never gave in that easily. Or at least he pretended not to and that in itself was enough to keep her on her toes.

And that’s where she’d been the past few week, uncharacteristically tiptoeing around and trying not to cross any unspoken lines that he had drawn between them. He might have been sleeping on her couch now as opposed to choosing to sleep against the wall but they still had a long way to go to get to where she wanted them to be. Didn’t stop her from pushing at the boundaries, she wouldn’t be her if she didn’t, but for once she’d been aware that her actions could just as easily drive him away again as they could push them closer like she desired.

The constant to-ing and fro-ing had been keeping her just dancing on the edge of frustration and in need of some whiskey in her blood. Just enough to give her a buzz and something else to think about for a little while. Hazel eyes had widened when she’d seen how busy Left Blank was and she’d almost suggested they went elsewhere but they were here now. “Shit. I’ll make it a quick one.” And with that she started to push her way forward to the bar, goal now in sight, while her hand reached behind her to loosely tangle her fingers with his metal ones.

@orionxhowle

#ariadne #p: ariadne #I'm such a fool for sacrifice

This was not him. He’d sworn, long ago, that Aria would be a distant revelation. She could be an ancient memory lost to the impossible; nothing more. He’d be her protector as she aged; from a distance with zero interference. He had planned to lose her the day he left the Initiative’s grasp, and he had. But she had different plans where his had gone awry. Orion expected nothing less from the woman who could flip one switch and become ruination. It would be a seething lie if he denied that he quite liked that about her.

This was not him; where he took residence upon her couch and didn’t stray among cracked streets. Where she could coerce him into public, and not skulk about in shadows. Every law had been forfeit, and he was certain nothing good would follow with a target branded in two backs.

"Just one drink. I promise."

Orion did not have to perform an auditory sigh for the woman to understand his immediate distaste toward the idea. It radiated from him in a way she knew too well. "Fine," he muttered, because no protest would do, "but I'm not drinking."

But this was him. He had failed. He was here. She had won. The game they played was worse than fate's barrel of roulette. He was going to get her murdered-- was that really what it would take to have him wake up? He'd thought himself dead until flesh and bone laced between the glove concealing frigid metal digits. Now, he was as alive as she made him.

His free hand settled against her waist as they neared the bar. It was a miracle that the simple act could distract him from the suffocating, voluminous crowd. He was always on edge. Nothing ever felt right. Others liked to play it off until a disaster became evident. Orion's attention flicked from various points within the establishment. The grip on Aria's waist tightened, though slight. "And what was wrong with drinking at your apartment?"

devouringbeast-blog

@orionxhowle

The place is a shady little bar in Downtown, LA, the kind with black siding in place of window and the name painted in bold letters. It’s not fair to say it’s not his scene, or that it even terrifies him, because few things do. But he carries a little more tension in his shoulders, an awareness that this isn’t Syndicate territory, and he hasn’t ventured all that far outside it since he’s been back. It ensures he goes there armed, even if he doesn’t need weapons to be dangerous.

There might be plenty to occupy his mind, but there’s a ghost lingering over his shoulder, that quiet and insistent reminder that his father’s dead and six feet under. And whoever put him there is still walking around on two legs, still breathing, heart still beating, and all those things they don’t deserve. His brother and Gwen might have plans for that, but he’s not content to wait.

Instead he’s left asking drug dealers and junkies if they can remember what happened a month ago on Venice Beach. For the most part it’s been a resounding no, but asking if they’ve seen anyone suspicious yielded a few more results, and directed to this hole in the wall.

Those ifs don’t sit comfortably, but it’s what he has.

He pushes his way through the door, lights dim and air hazy. The scent of spilled beer hangs heavy in the air, a thing populated mostly by low and gruff voices. And it’s almost laughable what he sees, because just about everyone here looks suspicious. Likely even him.

#elijah #a thousand years later~

It was an area cast in deep shadows; an easy station for slipping out of an unwanted reach. His arrival had prompted plenty of onlookers, but Orion could alter the attention span of any straying eyes. He could remove a too-curious individual with a challenging gaze or brutish presence. This case was no different, where an entire corner cleared out once he’d found a seat. He remained isolated in the establishment’s background, his threatening gestures having swept the surrounding table’s occupants elsewhere.

His position allowed him the ability of watching the door, where its every swing warned him of a possible intruder. But no one ever attempted to follow him down the area’s shadier paths. The Initiative did not wander where their presence wasn’t an overwhelming flood. Orion was exhausted with being the phantom, but facing the enemy alone..it wouldn’t even be a suicide mission that he’d prefer. He’d simply be theirs again. And he’d done enough, from what he could recall through his shattered mind.

Not even Rhys could heal a cranium comprised of mental shrapnel.

People flitted about, tossing back glasses of carelessly mixed liquor and entering mediocre squabbles. Orion was just allowing himself the possibility of rest when another entered. Like himself, out of place. Not an obvious lowlife eager to enter a drunken stupor, but someone with a purpose. A personal mission, investigating what others couldn’t find. By now, he knew many of the Syndicate’s identities. How could he not, with his two closest confidantes a part of their organization?

It wouldn’t take long. The figure across the room was intelligent, and Orion’s eyes bore into him as he awaited for any sign of recognition.

Do you think the Syndicate has a chance against the Initiative?

“Anyone can be destroyed as long as they know where to strike, and when to do it.”

#answered #Anonymous #i fought mobile for this so hopefully the formatting worked

Close Yet Far || Orion & Ariadne

@orionxhowle

Spending her evening at a bar had been a fixture in Ariande’s life since she’d left home at the age of eighteen. Despite being fiercely independent, she didn’t always like her own company and bars often worked out to be some of the most useful places for her to acquire new clients or information that would be useful to her. But most nights she just ended up bored, her hazel gaze only held by the amber liquid she was swirling around in her glass. She was bored. Sitting back on her stool with a sigh, she turned to survey the room with a flip of her hair. Thankfully she must have been giving enough of the right sort of ‘vibes’ as not one person had approached her to talk to her but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious as to why people hadn’t looked past that as they tended to do. Lazily, she floated her gaze over the room, almost giving up on finding anyone of interest to go and subject to her company until she saw him and the room tipped on its axis.

Had she had more than two whiskeys, she would have dismissed it as being drunk because it was just too much of a cliché to have happen to her. She wasn’t an emotional person. But she hadn’t had enough for her to consider intoxication as a viable option, instead she just found herself staring in disbelief for a good few heartbeats until her thoughts unscrambled themselves and she could process it all. Once finally coherent, her mind conjured up one word and one word only. The only one that mattered. Orion.

They hadn’t spoken in fifteen years but Ariadne still felt the loss of him from her life as keenly as if it had only happened fifteen minutes or days ago. Nothing that life had thrown at her had made her forget about him. Nothing. No matter where she moved or what job she did or who had warmed her bed for one night, Orion had never been far from her thoughts. She was proud of going ahead and living her life without him even thought hat had never been the plan but now he was here it was a whole different matter. She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that all these years she’d been one step behind him, something that had been confirmed by the briefest of glimpses as he bore witness to one of her most reckless choices.

But now something wasn’t right. Over the years, she’d never once been able to get near him, despite her best efforts, because he’d been able to just sense her. Tonight though, he remained unaware, which only worried her. From what she remembered, Orion wasn’t a man who liked to leave things to chance and now he sat without a drink in front of him, not focusing on anything in particular. It was so unlike him, at least the Orion she’d been exposed to so far. With a swing of her legs she got off the stool and headed over to the corner where she’d spotted him. There was so much she wanted to say and she didn’t know where to start in truth which was why she kept it light and with only the smallest of hint of dry humour. “Looks like I finally got to catch up with you.”

#ariadne #p: ariadne #close yet far

There was a drink before him that had yet to find his hand. Every time a waitress sauntered by, there was nothing to refill or clear away. And when one parted their lips to attempt speech, well, an icy glare swept them away. He left the whiskey encased, an amber, liquified flame untouched.

For a few careless moments he found himself amidst a war of slumber. He caught himself during each head fall, where the weight of lead was heavy upon eyelids. The darklit corner couldn’t keep him safe, nor could it deafen the escalating noise surrounding the establishment. All his arrivals were followed by a swift leave, and a curse toward the once prominent idea that he could force himself to fit in.

Orion’s eyes bore deep into the nothingness of space. Exhaustion had always been a magnet, had always been a toll. But tonight his head was split open; a tantalizing pain that had blossomed at one edge of his skull– and like a broken dam– engulfed every narrow passage of his mind until every corridor was filled. It left him drowning. Not trapped beneath the roar of stark-crashing waves, he still found it difficult to breathe.

Reverting into himself was his first honest mistake that evening as an encroaching silhouette sliced through the surrounding fog.

“Looks like I finally got to catch up with you.”

Aria. Orion’s shoulders rose with the strength in which he sighed. For a moment the liquor seemed just as she was– a temptress. “Leave it to you to defy the impossible.” He leant back in his seat to face her, strategically maneuvering his gloved metal arm from view. It worked well enough with others, but she knew when he wished to avert someone’s attention. “Are you going to stand there, then, or join me?”

It was too late to evade her, and nonsense to sprint. At least she was staying out of trouble when in his presence. As long as he didn’t allow her to follow him from the premises, this moment of converse could be permitted. But it couldn’t last. Never could it remain a reality.

harlow-ackerman-deactivated2019

The man had barely moved from the impact, not even close to being phased by it. That along helped her calm down a bit, though what he said next set her right back on edge. Then again, she felt anything but all right, stomach in knots and her hands trembling. He was right, she was anything but fine.

“What?” she asked. Stupid question since she heard him the first time and it was obvious something was wrong. She brought a hand up to brush her hair back from her face while she tried to figure out what to say. Fortunately, the literal run in seemed to prevent her from letting her powers go haywire on him. But whatever she seemed to say to anyone only got her in more trouble. She didn’t need her powers to get herself in hot water.

“N–” she started, but then decided not to lie. She wasn’t the best at lying under pressure and her nerves were already shot. “Hopefully not anymore,” she replied, glancing down the street for a moment. Had that guy even followed her? She sincerely hoped not. Never bothered to stop and look back until that moment.

#harlow #i apologize for not cutting #and lacking gifs #I am without my laptop for a few more days DX

He raised a brow at her initial confusion. He doubted he needed to reiterate his statement. She appeared to be righting herself, assessing the situation as he'd done upon the first impact. Orion's teeth sunk into the apple, crunching through tough skin until a sour taste flooded his tongue. Her response came shortly after his second bite.

Plucking a second apple from its wooden crate, Orion fished what change remained from his pocket and passed it to the vendor. It was miraculous that he had enough. “Well,” he began, tossing the spare piece of fruit in her direction, “I assure you they won’t make it from the alley if so.” He hoped the offered gift would distract her from whatever nightmare she'd recently endured. "Take a minute. Breathe."

dirchristophernolan

So I drift away again To winter, I belong…

#[ once more into the fray; ]

harlow-ackerman-deactivated2019

Harlow tucked herself in an alleyway, only sparing a quick glance behind her before she headed between the buildings to try and catch her breath. The man at the bar… she knew he was Initiative. His ideas about mutants and his questioning toward her had set her on edge, made her want to run. And she had, though it was a bit blindly. She didn’t know where she was now, but as long as she was tucked away somewhere, then she was satisfied. Slowly, her hands withdrew from her pockets, her fingers glowing a bright red. Oh, so now they worked. Couldn’t have at least zoned the guy out for a few seconds while she ducked out of there? Not that it would have been so simple since she almost had a panic attack right at the bar…

But why didn’t her powers work on him?

Harlow tucked her hands back in the pockets of her sweater, giving a light sniffle as she cleared her throat. With a couple deep breaths, she stepped back out of the alley and bumped right into someone. “Oh–!” she exclaimed, her whole body growing tense after taking a couple steps backwards, “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Collision rarely involved Orion. People tended to take one glimpse and gravitate away; land on an entirely different axis. When it happened, he was reaching for a piece of fruit at an outdoor vendor. The grocer was one of many at the market, but close enough to familiar alley escapes that Orion allowed himself a moment of breathability. His arm moved to strike on instinct, metal that could crush an ivory skull. The retaliation came up short.

Just a girl was not a thought process he trusted. Just a girl had nearly hurled him back into Initiative clutches before.

With guarded movement he readjusted his point of focus, though kept her presence under crucial surveillance. “Fine.” There hadn’t been enough force to move the wall that he was. “Though you look far from it.” And he knew a simple collision wouldn’t result in a look like hers. “Running from someone, are we?”

#harlow

Coffee Run.

Emery blinked several times, stunned. He expected Orion would remain in the wind far longer, if he ever actually showed himself again. There were times Em thought about trying to get a coded message out to him somehow, but then he thought better of it. He wouldn’t put his friend’s safety at risk like that. If Orion wanted to talk or needed something, he knew ways of reaching out to Em himself. “Glad that place has been getting some use these days. And I’m glad that it’s been useful to you,” he said after a long stretch of silence between the two men. “Wait-” He cut himself off, stopping himself from reaching out to catch Orion’s arm. “Do you need somewhere safe to stay here at all?”