T e n t a z i o n e

Independent OC for Tokyo Ghoul/Tokyo Ghoul RE. mostly private, open for plotting. Crossover and OC-friendly, Panfandom Please read rules before Interaction Written by Ramona

[honourquinx]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAMONA ! @breselin / @pellecebrae

ahem, please ignore the ugly formatting on this post (i’m ipad bound) but i wish you a very happy birthday ; i drew Marciano bc 1) i love him and 2) I LOV HIM

may your day be filled with lots of treats and goodies 💖💖💖

edit: there’s two versions bc i almost posted and then i remembered he has glasses JHFVJNFJB

[pellecebrae]

Little Birthday thing for Vodka @honourquinx ♡~

     ❦ Noises are barely perceptible. Are nothing much beyond the fine shift of a silken veil covering the bed that had been shared - how far? how far had they went? - numerous times before without anybody around knowing, with them only wishing to perceive the intricacies of a relationship nourished and grown and raised beyond what many would think even possible. Barely perceptible beyond the fine breathing sounds that virtually sounded like she was asleep. Was perfectly content basking in the warmth of a simple spring-afternoon, while secretly and shyly the wind would pour in through cracks of floor-length windows opening up the view over Tokyo's sky.

    ❦ How deceptively peaceful - one might want to think - to have that little scene of serenity be broken with nothing else but light laughter. A giggling sound pouring out from her little 'hideout' of cotton and velvet when keys had opened the apartment, steps had chimed around the place, searching and seeking, the mutters of wonderment incomprehensible yet its softness so easily perceived.

    ❦ He knew that she was here. Aware of her presence, shared thought their little togetherness was, a sanctuary of souls to come to rest while the world on the outside may search for them, hunt for them, want to tear everything from them and figure out the minute details of all that was their own and holy. No, only for one another was that to be seen, now when she shifts and turns and curls lithe body around that plush toy caught and held 'captive' for him to follow the trail of a riddle he did not anticipate would wait for him once returned.

    ❦ Returned and then stood, waiting in the doorway to the grand bedroom while watching that little someone curled up underneath silken sheets. All but drags a smile to his lips, softened and light and so undeniably unknown even to Furuta himself, for who would have thought that this was a situation his eyes were ever allowed to see? His ears were able to hear? Furthermore touch to be placed, would be so decidedly mild and tender, skit over the ground of woven material to find itself repaid with the tingle of laughter perceived like the fine rain now drumming against window plane. When had it begun? That fine serenading song underlining this picturesque perfection? He didn't care - he wouldn't want to care. There was something more important to pursue and watch, have it engraved in his mind as if it was one of the last things he was ever allowed to see.

    ❦ When she turned and revealed that plush 'stolen' from the living room, a peculiar toy, red and soft, in the form of a rather large lobster, yet would it be held against her chest in mischievous play.

    ❦ Smile spreads, as bright as the sunshine to illuminate the room with a warmth barely felt before. A shower and wind and the howling reminders of a storm incoming, now drowned out towards nought at all. Chimed beyond with that appeased tune, the darkness slowly dragging its coat beyond the horizon, near then was pushed away by another sun to shine. Did not take too long for her to reach for him, spreading arms in expectation of more to come. As soft and simple and light the realisations, to dawn upon them that this was their time to share it all---

    ❦ ---To know that whatever was around them in this time of darkness and cruelty, would not creep beyond those doors, inside these smooth and white layers.  That more was a little gentleness and permission granted to none at all past him, when Elettra moves and adjusts, would have him curl up just on top of her. Would have him closer and nearer, the way her heart beats in symphony with this or that little raindrop's drum.

    ❦ When object of possession was abandoned, when the free space would then be taken up with more warmth, with ginger touches, slender arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him in, to rest and relax, to maybe talk about these little tiny things and quips of a moment that are not - or should not - be spoken about with those that are not supposed to know. How quaint. But even in their silent breathing and heart-filled laughter, when he holds her close as she does him; how undeniable was it not? That their life was together and their future did not seem quite so dim?

[pellecebrae]

~ ★ Christmas Drabble for Vodka @honourquinx ♡ ~

     ♤ How long has it been? Time had flown by so mercilessly. Ruthlessly. And still, in a sense, he had never looked back [ was that true? ]. With all these little flashes and pieces of information trickling in as if to hammer it inside his mind that - in a sense - had forgotten 'something' [ someone? ] and was not let off anytime soon from that very phantasm haunting dreams. Tokyo was a cesspool for however long Jura had been able to remember and with his father's decision to remove his children from the tumultuous rage and war that was going on against an enemy neither ghoul nor human was truly able to understand, he had been made to watch and consider. Had been pushed to survey the offered data that media would be able to cover [ how much had it truly been? ].

    ♤ It went all over the world like a shadow. Engulfing whatever security would dangle in front of mortal minds within a few hours that Tokyo itself would need to recover. Was it real? Was it an illusion dragged out by those that didn't want to believe? Had peace finally come?

    ♤ Whatever it may be, time that had passed was enough for the doctor to entertain a trip back. For his sire to permit it even though indulgence of said cause would be rather short-lived, humorous as the leader was, he would wave it off the moment something could cross minds. So , he shall leave his oldest be. After all: for the second at least, he would be fine in that cacophony of silent screams and toneless blight. It was a journey meant to perceive what all had come undone [ and, perchance, if anything could be used by getting there ]. Favourable still, that something was waiting for him.

    ♤ Something he did not think he had so sorely missed.

    ♤ Seeing those formerly hating one another to be in 'harmony' with not an ounce of hate to be found [ it was a lie, and he knew it ] was an entertaining realisation to rely upon those waiting later. Wandering into the former headquarters of those that would loathe and long to kill him, now to be invited in and greeted so politely still [ it was a lie as well. they didn't know who he was ]. Honey-sweet would a requested name drip from his tongue in waiting for the officer to regard and redirect him---

    ♤ ---Just for expression to frown. For confusion to rise. He had to call another one, the mentioned name of 'Washuu' being to his surprise. Another was then given, a call had been made [ oh, he had so much to ask after, didn't he? ], before Jura would be brought along and deeper into the headquarters that had been so shortly ago - how long? how long? - the bane of his kind's existence in this beautiful and yet rotten city's core.

    ♤ Waiting with legs crossed over one another, the papers he had been offered to get to know what had gone over missed only regarded with minor glances. Unfurling before his eyes was a story untold yet by media and mind.

    ♤ How quaint, he thinks, with hot coffee to touch his lips, his tongue, his throat---

    ♤ ' ---Jura? '

    ♤ The sound was near foggy to reach his occupied mind. The name that falls in those very delightful tones of unexpected cadence was enough to have him raise his head, tilt it marginally to the side and regard the man now staring at him with unbridled surprise with a mild smile that would be so rarely seen. So barely perceived [ not even for his family would he do it that often ]. " It has been a while, Mister Suzuki~ " And thus he announces his awareness of the changes. The realisations. The questioning tones formerly having fallen from new co-workers and corrections made for the doctor to proceed, oh---

    ♤ ---Maybe it was all too much? Judging by the still haunted expression that drops gaze down the ground at the moment his teasing greeting had left lips with that slightest of curls. Oh, how long ago had it been [ how many years had passed? ], and before long his slender form shifts and moves. Unfurls from his place of waiting to meticulously wander closer and closer, each step resonating with the drumming of one's heart. Slower and slower before the stop of Jura's solicitous grace would nearly still Matsuri's heart whole. How long had it been? [ and why, indeed, had he returned? ].

    ♤ Thus lithe hands would reach up, bridge that distance between them that was nearly daunting [ oh so haunting ] until soft fingertips trace along worrisome tired lines. How much older he appeared since Jura had left and how they had grown 'apart' still able to cross that gap like it was nought. Oh, he had forgotten something. Had left someone behind [ on his father's request, for the other man would not want to hide ], so thus, before anything could be said, a smile as bright as sunshine blooms upon his face. Years, truly had it been years already? Why not offer something that seemed so far out of reach and yet could be touched and chased like the fine built of bones explored and tenderly grasped moving inside his wrist.

    ♤ What to do with this moment of misery? While ignoring all the echoes around them, the questions that arise and the discussions that might result? Never once in his life had he bothered or pondered with these thoughts to be answered by the desires whirling around his mind and the subtlety of a claim that they were for---

    ♤ ---One another? " My father requested I report back to him with the answer how this part of the world is turning out to be~ " A subtle singing chime in fluency of the Japanese spoken so long ago. Knowing well enough that his voice had always soothed him. Always - broken - him. Thus, he laughs, a mere raise of his shoulders with a stark gentleness so barely perceived. " And report back from you, that is. " So rarely would the leader permit for others to know and comprehend how much he does covet this or that being in existence. Why not now? Thus, when Matsuri's eyes reach his own and lips do part to question, silenced he finds himself with the tenderness of a kiss. " And will take you home with me. " Because he has been told to - and he wants to as well.

[pellecebrae]

Christmas Gift for Vodka @daturida  ♡~ ‘v ‘ Merry Christmas ♡~

     ❦ It could be minutes or days, maybe weeks or months that had passed, and still it would feel like no time quite at all. With how amusing it was to watch them: these little changes here and there, as fortune and fate had meant to be turned around, to offer up a future that should have never been there. It’s enthralling. Entertaining. With moments of wonderment in watching this or that movement. Flicks of the wrist, turning nothing into something and then into shreds and tears and torn bits and pieces of paper, scattered all over the ground. An unfinished letter. Deciding to discard it altogether, for the moment had been sure so fleeting, so undeniably tempting to finish what should have never been begun.

    ❦ Distant murmur they were, of recognising undesirable thoughts.These very words that he had meant to paint into reality? Had they not right here and right now, been settled down on paper worn. Dark and smudged. Coloured and embellished with tears and blood? 

    ❦ Settled down into a room unknown. Into the grandeur of a large library, warm and so inviting - when was the last time someone stepped upon the carpeted ground? How long exactly had they spend their time, going through memories of her family [ why were they offered? ], distant, unrelated, pictures of a long-gone time? Of relatives never seen before [ did not one of them, gazing upon one of the sepia-tinted moments of time, look like herself? her grandmother? recollection so distant, so faint and wisplike ].

    ❦ Her touch, when it comes, is of a softened request. Placed upon broad shoulder, the stiffening of tension once more then slowly [ oh so slowly ], flowing off and away from the then, otherwise, unexpectedly relaxed form. Of course, one would want to thank whatever caprice had possessed the leader of the organisation to grant admission to the pair’s whimsical inquiries. To allow them to explore the deep woods that envelop hide-out of a maze of dimly lit rooms. With the starry nights right above their heads, blazing just in unison with the fire consuming and devouring last pieces of whatever written word Furuta would be willing to bequeath.

    ❦ Hours ago. Now fingertips would begin their travel, seeking something hidden that was sure to be left untouched [ yet not unseen ], within these mental walls being raised quite so high. Who would have thought that her dearest father would permit the both of them to flee from any upcoming social event in the Lazarus’ house? Who would have thought such support would be given and be underlined by the mere wave of hand? By telling smile? By the offer of a family’s heirloom of a large estate, somewhere secluded off and far away from any sort of modernity?

    ❦ A pulchritude of creation and craft. Feeling like every breath they take, crystal clear and bound to sting in depths of lungs, was the very shape and form of the air right before a storm.

    ❦ Who would have thought, when those uncountable hours that had passed by could be reminisced upon, that they would end up here? In this self-made beauty of a peaceful heartbeat shared? Ah, should it not be enough for him dwell on words that would never come. Thoughts and letters, as withered as the roses left untouched and soon forgotten [ this very place? this manor-house of their own? it seemed like taken out of a daydream’s hum ], not long passed that she would move and drag him away, make him explore this treasure trove they could call their very own [ perhaps - perhaps, she should ask her father to let her keep it— ]. High balconies lined the whole structure. Mindless were they searching before picking out one to enjoy the upcoming chill of the morning [ had they really spent all the night going through pictures? through memories that were not their own? ].

    ❦ Blowing in the wind where the fine curtains of softest silk. Harsh and strong metal - on the other side? - biting and chilling against a palm’s touch - somehow? This very world they are caught inside, it seemed like a daydream’s wonder - of the old and the new alike. 

   ❦ Her thoughts were shattered just at the moment an arm does wind itself around slender waist, feeling and touching, asking with the near too gentle pursuit for the power held and kept in the depths within. Carefully leading her ever closer while his hold was a stark contrast to the harshness of darkened railing against slender fingertips. Mindful. Thoughtful. Each second cherished and taken in turning into something similar to these captured pieces of time, never forgotten again. Honouring the moment when she moves his head towards her own. How willing was Furuta to follow the little singer’s every whim. To relish when she traces and chases facets of his face drawn excruciatingly close [ what will these emotions express he does display? so open before her, and only her, do say? ].

    ❦ And such, the ticking of the clocks falls into perfect sync with her slowly beating heart. A taste desired and felt through his lips upon her shoulder. Trailing over every curve of all he was able to reach. Relishing in faint flavour and delirious smell [ something sweet? something floral? ] all of it would provide him with. Held. Tighter, tighter - she might just vanish from your grasp - keep her ever closer. While ungloved hands [ for there are no secrets before one another ] make to follow and explore each ridge of spine beneath a material that quite so fine—

    ❦ —Furuta does find his reward in a softened gasp released. 

   ❦ Slowly and surely would slender arms wrap around broad shoulders, touch him once again. Permission granted to allow her partner deeper in. Into the sweet, masked innocence that truly would never be one again [ but would they not like and want to be the very people pretending for it to exist only for a few moments more? ]. A kiss. A touch against the fine slope of neck. A grace of lips flowing pliantly into shoulder, using his free hand to trail whatever had been left behind [ nothing? everything? a piece of soul, so carefully crushed in her palm ]. It sets to a fire igniting right beneath pale sheen underneath the dark blue of a suddenly greeting storm in the sky.

  ❦ No, not yet. [ not anymore ]. Cycling through thoughts, being caught like raindrops in touching lips. Being kept like they hold themselves in the beauty of a shared solitude. Thoughts mean so little - when all they need is one another.

 ❦ So they douse their ideas. Their wants. Their needs. Into the nothingness of a shattering downpour. 

[pellecebrae]

     ♤ Living with the subtlety of want for danger, was he not? With how he met [ by now even regularly ] with that very specific man. Would spend a considerable amount of time with him, much to displeasure of those that would usually be sent to make sure that the doctor wouldn't do anything - hasty. Wouldn't do anything so truly, utterly - perilous. And yet? It were mere meetings between two men slightly interested in one another beyond the means and makings of what they both truly were [ no? was it only that? or something more? ]. So as if to underline all that, slender form steps forward towards his current companion.

    ♤ Gloved hand reaching out and trailing along the hem of shirt so dissolute in uproar. "Ichiro, come closer for a moment." Were they not far too close? Speaks and knows it would be complied [ or not~? ]. "You should have your attire fixed, let me do it~"          || @duritiarum  ♡~ 

[pellecebrae]

♤ || Ichiro

@pellecebrae​ - 📝

“It’s begun to snow,” a mere observation made in… jest (nothing more, nothing less. he could have bantered further, perhaps.) as he’s setting down a hot mug of coffee upon table situated next to Jura. “I suppose you should consider yourself lucky for arriving here just in time, mm?”

Arms fold their selves behind own back as he raised his head, gazing out a window with wordless opinions and silent expressions. Mere moments later does he seat himself opposite of the ghoul, crossing one leg over the other as hands fold selves politely over his lap.

“If I hadn’t spotted you, you may have been stuck. That would have been inconvenient for the both of us.” He saw no reason to hold back within his teasing, small smile touching lips all the while. “I’ve read that it’ll last for a while– a couple of inches at best and a few feet at worst.”

Head canted lightly to side as he offered forth a look of muted amusement.

“I hope your family doesn’t worry about you. We might be snowed in, depending on how long our little talk takes.”

     ♤ How - inconvenient - he had to think: that snow would fall like it only addressed itself right now, slowly and lightly, but would [ soon enough ] turn into a storm none the like seen in such a long time. How - inconvenient - he was supposed to think: with a smile as amicable as it was 'truthful' the doctor did not think any of it quite at all. If searching for a reason why his own expression was a tad softer, a spell brighter than only usual? They would not get an answer even if they pried more than only suitable.

    ♤ It was not for anybody else to know - but his own hands reaching out towards cup of fine porcelain, and that laughter that rises from the depths of throat.

    ♤ How unlike his very look and form his voice had not always been.

    ♤ "It would truly have been, so I thank you, my friend, for going out of your way to look for me." Does Jura mean truthfully any that he speaks with the husky darkness of a fine and charming gentleness? [ Perhaps. ] "Alas, I am not in a hurry. Neither is my family, for I excused myself for a prolonged amount of time."

    ♤ For how long? Nobody would need to know. "If there is any need-be, they can reach me easily enough~" Subtlety in the knowledge [ after all, they were like cat and mouse - or so they said ] and the sip he took was all the more languorous and light. Exhaling a breath a moment later to let the heat of drink warm him through. "You do not seem to be displeased that I will be stuck in here - with you - for a bit longer than anticipated~"

[pellecebrae]

♖ || Ren

@pellecebrae - continuation.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

It’s been… a while since he was straightforward with anyone that wasn’t Junichi. In a way, it has him feeling oddly vulnerable and naked. He wants to wrap his arms around himself, curl himself into a fetal position within his chair, and be alone. Yet, all he does, is remain idle (almost like he’s been frozen in place.) with hands laying flat on desk.

“You asked a question, and I gave you an answer. I wasn’t even trying to be coy this time.”

And it was the truth, but something continually had been prodding and poking at Ren’s insides. He closed his mouth, tasting the weak aftertaste of blood before raising his head. How could he have known how Marciano was looking at him?

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It was, rather, a guess that Ren had no shame in speaking.

“I hate when people catch me acting like this, you know,” he began in same low, serious tone with eyes narrowing (or were they squinting? hard to say.) all the while. “I prefer to be a happy idiot, even if it gets me into more trouble– but I guess we’re doing this, instead.”

It wasn’t a chastising notion but, more-so, a statement.

(i don’t want to i don’t why would you i don’t i hate you why would you do this to mmeeeeEEE!!)

The mayor found it useless to try and lecture other man, knowing that it’d only lead him down a cruel whirlpool of self-destruction and self-desolation.

“Well, let’s talk about it– the elephant in the room.”

“Are you satisfied, Marciano?”

     ♖ How would one know, perceive, be aware to be looked at - if own gaze has been drawn elsewhere? Has been used as a version of shutting oneself off from whatever onslaught of mental torture would find itself poured out and over head? To be seen as nought else but the epitome of worthlessness [ or so one would want to assume? ] in the eyes of someone that was so far above and beyond anybody else.

    ♖ Was it not, what others might truly feel? Watching this catastrophe of someone's personal lament unfolding before attentive eyes, while the leader's own were all but unmoving to the cause and happenings?

    ♖ That was unexpected - in one way and not in another.

    ♖ Was he not easily capable of triggering someone's feelings when it came to power and mastery of personality just as his own [ even Marciano's children were surely struggling with their father's overwhelming presence ]. "Preferring to keep up a mask rather than being yourself? Alas, quite understandable in a society just as this one."

    ♖ So he all but sighs before taking a place. Their age wasn't as far apart as one might want to assume [ the mayor was as old as his own wife, wasn't he? at least from what he could recall Jura talking about ] looking at this from an outside point of view of expectant bystander that should be none [ it was a delicate feeling of privacy torn apart by the way he only sits, crosses his legs, places head in his palm--- ].

    ♖ "Satisfied with what?" How easy it would fall from his lips, he nearly would appear offended with those words. "With the fact that I saw you shatter in these instances just asking a simple question? That would be tedious." One for another, he meant nought of it. Calm and so surely aware of himself, exhaling another sigh when closing eyes for a brief flicker of upcoming headaches. He wonders just, how much his oldest one would have to deal with the outcome of it all [ did he care---? ]. "No, I'm not." A wave of his hand before eyes open again, smile that finally spreads over his lips was surprisingly---

    ♖ ---mild? "Would that make it easier for you if I were?"

[pellecebrae]

mentiuntur‌:

He’s much too busy looking about (though he knows she’s there nonetheless.), examining and expressing outwards appreciation at the various possessions the Lazarus family held, to completely regard her approach. Yori took note of her footsteps– quiet and timid, with at least one of those words suiting her just fine. Swift was he in turning once she spoke up, face showing a look of surprise with hand over little “o” of mouth.

“Ah! Madam Elettra!!”

How he’s aware of her name would remain up in the air (but would it not be so easy as to simply say that he’d overheard it? that jura had mentioned her in passing? it’s rather hard to keep track of all of his lies at times.), and he’d ignore this particular subject as hand gradually lowered away. Expression quickly shifted into one of knowing embarrassment, same hand from before now scratching lackadaisically at the back of his head.

“I am so sorry, I must have looked like such a… such a hoodlum skulking about! My apologies!” He gave a deep, dramatic bow only to quickly stand right back up. “Nothing is out of place, I promise this to you!”

“A~aaah, but anyway… a message? You deserve much more than to be a simple errand child!” Compliments are best when they’re loose and fluid. “No, no. I do not have a message! It’d be too unbecoming of me to place that upon you! Ah, but… I suppose I was merely only here to inquire about the family’s status?” A tilt of the head. “Sir Jura is like a brother to me, and your dear mother– why, she’s simply a peach. It’d be dastardly of me to not show concern!”

❦     Works and ways of moving, of presenting himself { she could easily tell that he was an actor of sorts } had her merely tilt her head in mild inquire of knowing more. She did not wonder, for her own field of work would have her meet kind of his every once in a while, desiring more than they had bargained for, and finding themselves refused time and time again. He was different, she knew right away, and it was amusing in a particular kind of a near endearing way but no smile, no otherwise performative reaction would lighten up unreadable features.

❦     "Hm~ I see."

❦     And would one not want to direct question as to how he had been aware of her very person? Ah, no, after listening to all what he had to offer, she decides it mattered not { mentioning her brother and mother in the same breath? it would be foolish to inquire }. "You appeared more so lost if I were honest." And obviously, she would be, with a hand rising up, slender fingers curling in and beneath her chin as if she were to analyse in ways of police seen in shows flickering upon large tv { she didn't care, only mimicked behaviour suitable for her }.

❦     "It is rare for anybody to refer to my brother in ways so adoring." So finally, she does smile, in that softened way that showed and proclaimed something was so very - wrong. "And even rarer does it find itself that one was to know my mother." But there was nothing behind it past just that. Given her to be so absent from public life. "I do assume you met her when she was still a singer?"

[cachinnavi-a]

[pellecebrae]

❦     Furuta

MUCH TO HIS DISCONTENT, hiding as an adult was much harder than it had been in his childhood. There were no stalks of lycoris to envelop him whole, no soft ground underfoot to mask his footsteps, no flora to cover the scent of a half-blood. The manor exposed his every habit – the floorboards would betray how he paced when deep in thought, the walls would listen to his every monologue, and now he had learned that he had become predictable. A day of mourning for he, after all of his attempts at being anything but, had become predictable.

Still. If being predictable meant that Elettra could find him easily, then… so be it. He opened the door to the room he had been given ( ‘kindness of strangers’ was dead, it was time to rely on ‘old friends’ ) when he heard her voice. His tired features lit up, no saccharine, all real sugar. ‘ You have something for me? ’ Canted his head in curiosity, ‘ Are you implying I get lonely? ’ He still stood expectant, hands laced together. Whatever could it be?

❦     Much to his personal discontent he was exposed and placed right in front of them { her family's ways of handling those of power? unimaginable, secrets of their own }, for her to pluck on gently and with such sure featherlight touch. It wasn't meant to harm, nor meant to displease - had he not gone through enough { even though many would say, he was supposed to suffer ever more }? And yet, after being exposed to what can only be a moment of fatherly kindness, now he stood in front of her, waiting eagerly with words of sweetness for whatever she would offer to him.

❦     It's a small thing. A beautiful little thing. And his words are overplayed with nought but a smile raising upon her lips. "Maybe."

❦     A box with a blanket over top that was formerly behind her back would now be offered up to him. Holding it a bit higher for his taller form to reach for it and wander back into his quarters shall he only desire. "So I thought to get you something to quell it." Even though he would deny implications { they were all too true }. And as it was and as it happened - a soft mew would rise when only the object had been lifted towards his waiting hands.

[pellecebrae]

❦     Eyes blink when watching the figure slink around in one of the Lazarus' premises, seemingly lost in pursuit of this or that { albeit, she knows, that no one would be allowed to enter if not recognised by the guards }. So Elettra supposes she could aid the wanderer in his trials and tribulations, approaching near too quietly from behind before voice rings out in a fashion a tad too low for slender form.

❦     "Do you require someone?" With the searching look and approach, one would think it likely. Tilting her head, waiting for him to direct and pose full attention. In a sense, somehow, the musician thought he might look for her eldest brother { he seemed like someone who would be in the doctor's rare favour }. "My family is out right now, but I am able to direct a message to them, shall you seek one out specifically."          || @mentiuntur  ♡~

[pellecebrae]

♤     Ren

@pellecebrae​

Ever since hearing that, he’s been aching to scratch and scratch at his skin. He’s carelessly plucking, pulling, and picking at the flesh of his fingers as he’s staring down at his paperwork. Again and again, he’s having to sign just a few things (agreements, obligations, affiliations… the like.) but staved off on doing so. It’s something that should’ve plagued him otherwise but, instead, has him wordlessly ignoring.

(thought i was over it. thought i was over it. thought i was over over over over–)

Would it be a bit dramatic to see that he felt numb? Because that’s what he couldn’t help but feel– as if he’s been trapped.

“Um… let’s see here,” he mumbling to himself, having not taken prior notice to the door cracking open. Teeth nipped and chewed at pen’s barrel, almost having chosen the nib out of carelessness. “This one is for… hm–”

Head’s lowered, paying no mind to any changes in scenery. Even as the door had slid further open, exposing familiar figure of his doctor.

(–have to keep busy. keep fucking busy. gotta keep FUCKING busy.)

“–oh.”

His head remained bowed, Ren’s eyes flickering towards the visitor (jura. it just had to be him. he didn’t want it to be him. for once.) before returning back to his work. Now he’s trying to appear busy, tapping inactive point of pen against paper as he’s resting cheek within palm of other hand.

“Weren’t you just attending to someone?” distant tone for an equally distant disposition was used. “It’s why I didn’t say anything when I walked by.”

Mostly that was a lie. He knew why he hadn’t stopped to speak to Jura. He knew why he stopped for but a moment within the hall, feeling his blood freeze over before reaching a boiling point, and why he kept his head down. He knew very well the reason why he merely walked (even going as far as to avoid brushing shoulders.) by Jura and his “guest”.

“I didn’t ask to meet with you, so… what’s the occasion, huh?”

♤     Looking through a facade that had been hard to keep it up when moments arise that would shatter sturdily built walls and an unshakeable self-confidence in mere seconds, like the fine crystal of a feeble glass. That very conversation led only moments prior with a 'guest' that had excused himself in fleeting instances { like a dog to place its tail between its legs, running for the hills as soon as only allowed from the leash }, it had been quite a spectacle - and even those that knew the doctor better, that usually interacted with him more casually, had made to stay out of his way for the time he needed to recompose himself. If even necessary, he had been so surely calm.

♤     Had went his own way and made to work for half an hour in his own office, seemingly forgetting about that small interlude of an employer that was faster than usual to pass him by.

♤     Because his own voice had been a mixture of darkness and death.

♤     As much as personal relationship with his patriarch was strained? This sort of speech, this raise of voice, the depth and darken silk of it? He was quite grateful to have inherited a weapon that was far beyond another person's reach and mental capability to not cower in fear and reverence. Apparently such had also happened to the dear mayor.

♤     The one to pretend he's quite so eager at working when himself stands suddenly in front of heavy wooden desk, all but leans over it and in a bit too close. "An envoy of another trading company, trying to garner affections and good offers from my family's own." The edge had been taken off { from his voice, not from his eyes, shining quite so brightly and boring themselves into his dear 'patron's soul } and he was waiting in explaining. "Needless to say, I was not pleased with it." Proclaimed with the way his hand now places itself, palm-flat, upon the lacquered surface. With the way, he was leaning into easy breathing room. "If you pretend to be busy, I would suggest that you use your pen correctly."

from Marciano: 👐 + "How much do I remind you of your father~?" B]

@pellecebrae | ❤ | accepting!

“Too much.”

He didn’t want this question to be easy. He didn’t want to answer immediately, yet he couldn’t help himself. Eyes stared directly into Marciano’s with wry, little smile barely stretching skin. Marciano’s lacked the presence his own father had (but that’s why he’s dead now.), but Ren still felt the eeriest twinge of fear when regarding him.

“You’re kinda scary, actually.”

Just kinda? What a farce!

An understatement of the century! Ren knew it. He was sure that Marciano knew it, too. He swallowed, hand having lifted to tug nervously at collar of shirt. Silence permeated the room, Ren feeling it begin to stack and stack and stack on his shoulders. Ah, he could feel it to the point that he felt as if his spine could snap at any sudden movement!

“Not as much as him, though.”

That was the truth.

He could go on and on about the countless nights he’s spent bawling. He could go on for hours about the times his father’s stared down at him whenever he came home only just a minute past his curfew. As if he’s reliving through years upon years of agony, he’s holding a hand to his cheek.

“You don’t hit me like he did, so… that’s a plus,” tone was dull, almost droning on as if he’s been reciting this to himself in front of the mirror for days. “You do talk down to me a lot, though, and that makes me feel shitty.”

“I don’t think you look a lot like him, but you smile like he does– did.”

Marciano’s expressions were the worst offenders, he thinks. Hand presses further against cheek, as if wanting to massage a bruise that wasn’t and hadn’t been there for years.

“At times, I feel like… I have to beg you not to hurt me. It’s alarming, you know? I don’t like feeling like that, so why do you have to subject me to that?”

It wasn’t even Marciano’s doing.

“Am I projecting?” he suddenly asked, hand dragging itself down skin and leaving behind faintly reddening spot. “Yeah, but what can you do about it? You could kill me, but I’m not disobeying you right this moment. I’m doing exactly what you’re asking.”

(I’M BEING GOOD. I’M BEING SO GOOD. DON’T YELL AT ME.)

“You don’t… touch me, though, so… I think I’m okay.”

He thinks he’s safe.

“There’ve been times where you came close, and I wanted to scream.”

Marciano was nothing like his father, but Ren could see it so clearly. He lowered his head, almost as if he had to bow formally to Marciano. Was it out of an apology? Was it out of respect? Maybe it was all of the above?

(DON’T SHOUT. DON’T RAISE YOUR VOICE. PLEEEAAASE.)

Yeah, it had to be all of the above.

(I CAN BE GOOD! I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG!)

“This all leads me to think that you’re awful.”

Ren swallowed, staring down at his desk with sweat starting to bead up on forehead.

“So, um, I hate you just as much as I hated him.”

[cachinnavi-a]

👐 + 'What do you think right in /this/ moment? If you could do anything you wanted, what would it be~?" [ 8> ]

@pellecebrae | ❤ | accepting!

“Kill you?”

A statement within a question… how predictable.

Ren could almost laugh at how stupid of a question it was, yet he wouldn’t. He held himself back, swallowing back any creeping sorts of laughter like it were stinging bile. Did he want to throw up? Maybe!

(GRIND YOUR BONES INTO DUST. LICK THE MARROW FROM YOUR ASHES. TELL YOUR ROTTING CORPSE HOW MUCH I CARED FOR YOU.)

“How killing you would be so~ooo goddamn euphoric– is that good enough?”

(SLOBBER ON YOUR FLESH. BITE YOUR TEETH OUT. SCOOP THE SKIN OUT FROM UNDER YOUR FINGERNAILS.)

Telling the truth shouldn’t have been this damn hard, but here he was– struggling, straining, and barely scraping by. Was it because it was Jura that was asking this? Fuck. He hates him so much.

“Why are you wasting your time with asking such a dumb question…?”

He’s remained seated within his chair, leaning forward (he’s forming his back into a hunch. that looked uncomfortable.) with hands entwining within one another over desk. Head tilted with eyes widening at realization of situation he’s found himself in. He swallowed, trying for a tiny smile only for it to falter almost immediately.

How pathetic.

“That’s what I want. That’s what I always wanted, you idiot.”

It wasn’t hard for him to resort to such petty comments. He could’ve gone in further. He could’ve gotten up and take Jura by the neck. He could’ve finally snapped his neck and watch his body writhe and wring itself back to normal.

That would’ve been fun.

“You disgusting, little fucking… worm of a man.”

That was more like it.

He pauses then, though. There had been so much he wanted to prior to Jura’s arrival. It’s as if… as if, as if, as if as if as if–

“You ruin everything.”

(that’s what i want NOW.)

“So if I could just hold you, caress you, and just…” Hands raised off of desk, parting ways from one another as they begun mimicking choking the air. Fingers gave a distinct flex as he looked away (away! away! away away away!) with thin line of mouth twitching madly. “… Heh.”

Fingers firmed in their nonexistent grip, Ren looking up at Jura once more. Mouth gradually formed into a comprehensible emotion– a shaky smile as expression seems to falter. No longer was he wearing visage of maddened fury but, rather, wore one of numb amusement.

Seconds after, he’s rubbing at his face with one hand (and the other dropped into his lap.) then swiping it through his hair.

“Ju~uura, you still drive me so crazy!”

With a shake of the head, Ren tutted.

“We need to fix that.”

[pellecebrae]

❦     "Furuta, come here a moment, yes?" Such a massive mansion where they currently would reside in, the outskirts of Rome shining in the distance with their newly rising lights. It wasn't as if he would be able to hide in the depths of it, for the singer would surely always know where he went. Where he could be found. How bizarre, perhaps, that her father had gone out of his way to make sure the unruly youth would be safe and sound.

❦     As much, as truly only possible. "I have something for you, for when nobody else can be around~"          || @daturida  ♡~

[pellecebrae]

but would you go to bed with him?

@cachinnavi :lc

♤     That question means more than expected for the smirk that etches itself upon his face was as devious as only ever possible. He couldn’t help the noiseless laugh rising from the back of his throat. Couldn’t help it when his eyes darken for a shimmer and momentarily brighten again { it is as if there are multiple masks, he’s pulling a lever to find a fitting one— }. Nothing of it, when a slender hand rises to wave it into abandon, perfect glove of sleek and black leather tightly spun over otherwise perfectly pale skin. He could find it hilarious, for tension, rising higher and higher, would have someone expect this sort of outcome { wouldn’t it - wouldn’t it - wouldn’t it? }.

♤     “I would.”

♤     Words could mean far too much { endless implications }. It’s easy in its dusky syllables, velvet and soft, how words fall from the curl of his lips and his ever-present half-moon smile that soon enough drops behind said raised hand, all but pressing a single finger to his lips { keeping in a secret. don’t tell anybody. don’t tell— }. “It’s a game for me, as I know of true natures the moment someone steps in front of me.” He could see through all of it, like crystal clear glass to be shattered by in his own palm. Power unimaginable to be housed in slim frame, rippling with a hidden energy beneath picturesque appearance of beauty. Ah, of course - that question only made so much sense in everybody’s minds { and had he not heard others talk about it? servants whisper behind their backs? }. Does he know? That out of mind superior of his, trying to bestride whoever came his way, caught fancy—

♤     —”I know well enough what he wants. Know well enough that he’s all the more taken by me.” Wanting, wanting. Waiting like a snake to snap for its heedless prey and hold it in jaws, slowly pressing tighter, tighter { feeling teeth sink into the soft of skin and flesh }. “Alas, it’s quite favourable that a glutton like him would surely be unsatisfied with drawing attention from only one person.” More and more and more { give him more! }. And it’s so slow that he moves, leaning back in office-chair to just put a bit of distance between himself and heavy wood table, polished, perfect { everything he works with is decadent. rich. wealth to exude from every pore - he wants it, no? }.

♤     Long legs do cross, one to be placed over the other while gloved hands fold above his lap without any further movement. As if rehearsed and so suitably consummate for the mind and soul. “Would I, indeed? Even that I said yes. Would I?” Would he go to that place? “Yes, only to see him break.” To see someone fall apart in the needs and wants and desires for another person and what they could give them { despicable, isn’t it? }. “To see someone melt beneath a well-placed touch, leaving a mouth gasping and a body quaking. Rising to heights unimaginable and then being denied the last reach—” Would he, indeed, sleep with him?

♤     The answer was as simple as his own words elegantly placed at the moment his head would tilt to the side { exposure, exposure - it was an easy addition to their game }. “—yes, indeed I would sleep with him.” But what was the price? Everlasting ridicule of someone’s personal and innermost desires, he knows it and had always been aware - these strings and small attachments of thoughts when only being far too close. { Only being in reach so that hands could close around throat - tighter, tighter— tight— }. But what was it even all about? The very engaging game of small little flickers in darkening eyes, wickedly ridiculing by the time momentarily lapsing ideas would turn and twist and be reborn into something new—

♤     —What was this even all about? “But I do not see the reason why such meddling would even be indulgent to someone merely passing by. It is as it is - our roles perfectly set and despite the fact that I might permit him to touch and grace me, there is nothing else and nothing more.” And nothing that there ever will be. For the wanting and waning and desiring { lavishly brought forth with the wrong words, filling in blanks with unsuitable syllables } was all the more entertaining to be had.

♤     And who would not know about it by now? The doctor was such fickle to stay entertained—

♤     —and who would not be aware of it by now? This very unpleasant circumstance - could lead to complete and devastating ruin.

[pellecebrae]

♤     "Say, Junichi." How blunt and without any regard towards pleasantries and formalities. It was indeed much easier to hold conversations when that one specific obstacle was not around, was not in the way. How quaint to think about it, that both men already knew that, upon the mayor's return, they would be greeted with sole displeasure upon the knowledge that they had merely talked. It's hilarious in its own ways - that Ikari Ren had no reach nor control over either of them.

♤     And that the doctor, indeed, turned out to be so favourable with the bodyguard's presence. It's amusing enough - for certain - even though he finds little to no entertainment in violence and discard. But that to a later time, when he walks throughout lightened up office-space and makes to sit just across the other. "For how long have you known - Ren - for~? I'm just curious, given that he would rather not that I converse with you~"          || @crudelibus ♡~