cypress

" don't let a cornered wolf show you all his teeth and convince you it's his smile "

[rebelliumhq-blog]

Berith and Belias!

berith: ‘ do you often argue with others? ’

Nick pulls a face, lifts and wiggles his hand back and forth in the universal so-so gesture. “I try to save the direct confrontation for when it matters,” He responds, lips pulling back to an almost-smile, thinking of all the exercise his jaw must have gotten over the years from biting his tongue. Nick’s had plenty of arguments with others that stayed in his head, where they belonged, causing as little trouble as possible for him in the moment. Plenty that slipped free, too.

belias: ‘ do you gossip? ’ 

“I like to think of it more like conveying pertinent information to the greater public.” And as bad teen movie as it sounds, gossip in Dertosa is more valuable than the word suggests. Nick’s gotten some valuable intel out of gossip. “Pertinent. Nothing malicious.”

“That question mean you got something compelling for me?”

[rebelliumhq-blog]

batibat & astaroth

batibat: ‘ talk about the worst nightmare you have ever had. ’

He actually has to think about that one. First, there’s the problem of remembering his dreams: last night was chaotic-apocalyptic, crumpled skyscrapers and broken physics, but the details beyond that are moot and that’s typical. Nick dreams weird, not scary. But alright, everyone remembers some –

Like that one from middle school, he’d dreamed about sitting at the dinner table and a deafening ocean-roar coming out of his family member’s mouths every time they turned to speak to him, their lips only stretching more comically around the words as they grew angrier with his confusion. Countless dreams about being chased and ducking through endless doorways, making improbable escapes over and over with the help of impossible jumps or helpful ghosts or climbing buildings like fucking Spiderman. Or that one in an Eden with no roof but a single looping corridor, where every door opened to his own room and the carpet was sopping wet under his sneakers, misted periodically by what looked like the rain-shower mimickers over vegetables in the grocery store while Eve’s stilted voice announced the weather over an invisible speaker. 

Freud could roll in his grave making sense of that all he wanted. Nicky wasn’t gonna bother. “Nah, every time I dream, it’s a sober LSD trip. I really don’t have a good frame of reference for nightmares.”

astaroth: ‘ have you ever falsely accused someone? ’

“It never worked, but who didn’t try to blame shit on their siblings when they were a kid? The youngest child’s supposed to be the spoiled one, but I don’t think my family ever got that memo.”

He’s only being a little bit facetious, grins to combat the darker-than-the-reality implications that might be misconstrued from that statement. “Good thing I’m old and wise enough now to accept that most of the time it was just me trying to get away with being a dumbass, huh?”

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(thusnarcissuswept‌)

It took all of thirty seconds for Jules to identify the predicament it seemed both Cypress and themself found each other in. At least Cy’s exhausted smile was a clear sign of all the fun he must have had. If Jules’d had a similar time, they didn’t remember one whit of it. “A megaphone? Shouldn’t you be the one reminding me all I need to do is project from my diaphragm?” they quipped right back, though they did concede to lowering their voice some (just some) as they lowered the rest of their person into the offered chair.

They released an affected sigh as he spoke, though the fact that he’d turned the conversation around on them was no surprise. He was right, and Jules was certain he knew it and would hold out until the end of time if they didn’t give as much as they wanted to get. Cy was so tricky that way. Quite the tease. “I’m still kicking myself for it. I had the perfect look ready and everything, I was going to blow all those elitist jerks out of their ostentatious Japanese-garden-inspired waterfalls.” Those beautiful blue brocade pants were still right where they had been left on their dresser–Jules hadn’t been able to bring themself to move the outfit quite yet. “But, I know I kicked off the night a little early and then the next thing I remember was waking up a few hours ago, so. Too bad my scene had to miss me for the evening. Guess I’ll just have to plan better next time.”

The look they cast Cypress across the table this time was that of a sly fox. Leaning in, they placed steepled fingers on the table and offered him a conspiratorial shrug. “‘Starting shit’, hmm? Well, you can’t just say something like that and not explain! You’ll have to tell me all about it.” They chuckled once, shaking their head at themself and then beaming at Cy with all their typical brightness. “Make me regret not being there even more in the process, I’m sure. You certainly look like you had fun.”

Cypress snickered softly, "That’d be theater, not film,” He corrected, smile tired in a way that had nothing to do with his hangover, “Anyways, you don’t need any help projecting.” And yet, obliging as ever, Narcissus did lower themselves to a less headache-inducing volume to match Cypress’ currently tender ears, bless them for it. That exuberance had been cause for what he realized now was a ridiculous suspicion when he’d first met Nightshade’s sibling, later coming to understand it was simply the way Narcissus was. Becoming friends with them was just the bizarre (and welcome) cherry on top of every other strange aspect of Cypress’ current life.

“You passed out during your pregame?” And there was a real laugh, huffy and surprised, Cypress’ eyebrows shooting up in amusement at the image of Narcissus passed out in full costume on their bed (an admittedly on brand move). Probing then, “By yourself? That must’ve been one hell of a kick-off. Let’s hook you up with some coffee too,” He pushed his side plate of half-eaten bacon across the table, “You might just need this more than I do  –  get some grease in you, dude.” Cypress made a quick mimed request to his waitress when he caught her eye, holding up and pointing to his coffee mug first and his new guest second, giving her a smiling thumbs up when she nodded her understanding. “Set a few alarms next time, huh? Or maybe set up a custom wake-up service, we’ll come and make sure you don’t miss out.” 

The conspiratorial gleam in Narcissus’ eyes recalled the events of the night more clearly to Cypress’ mind, hiding his grin this time in another sip of coffee, taking his time savoring the drink and smacking his lips in satisfaction as he resurfaced, just to torture the other a little while longer. “Fun...” The Flower started with a mock-thoughtful hum, tapping one finger to his chin, “Well, if you know anything already, you know about Night. She wasn’t the only one who got a good send-off from high society.”

[lunar-butch-deactivated20160510]

"ask me about my demons"

[valentinexbomber-blog]

lilith: what was your biggest rebellion against authority? why did you do it? raum: do you have a tendency to hoard anything? if so, what? jezebel: talk about a time you used your sexuality to get your way mephistopheles: have you ever helped  a loved one destroy themselves? verrier: do you find yourself disobeying or obeying most authority? asmodeus: on whom do you want revenge and how would you take it? baal: if you were a god, how would you prefer to be worshipped? lamia: how do you feel about children? lucifer: what are you most proud of? sonneillon: do you hate anyone? batibat: talk about the worst nightmare you have ever had abaddon: what person, place, or thing have you most wanted to destroy? belias: do you gossip? abraxas: do you believe in any higher power? if so, what? ornias: talk about a time where you felt drained of energy lix tetrax: if you could travel by wind, where would you go? astaroth: have you ever falsely accused someone? carreau: do you consider yourself compassionate or harsh to others? why? leviathan: what do you believe lies in the unexplored areas of the ocean? belphigor: if you could pick 3 forms to shapeshift into, what would they be? azazel: talk about a time when you were falsely blamed for something mammon: when were you most greedy? for what? verrith: are you a patient or impatient person? pythius: out of all the lies you have ever told, which is your favorite? berith: do you often argue with others?

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(salvatin‌)

‘ guilty conscious? ’ isaiah echoes, the topic an awful, sore one for him, his own conscious constantly eating away at him. still he couldn’t help but prompt ‘ I didn’t know you had a guilty conscious. ’ amusement clear in his voice. ‘ who is your date? ’ he questions then with a tilt of his head, wondering whether or not he had a legitimate date or a bought one. most of the flowers ( he knows that much ) were bought dates today. he’d had one or the other accompanying him in exchange for money ( and/or drugs ) to events such like this. and he probably would again, women, relationships weren’t exactly stable in his life unless some form of money or drug exchange was involved. 

the coin disappears back into the pocket it had emerged from ‘ I haven’t exactly stuck around the main hustle and bustle for most of the night. ’ he offers with a shrug. if anything he’d wandered the hallways, or he spent time outside involved in surprisingly more interesting conversations than he had encountered inside. ‘ you were kicked out for disagreeing with security? ’ isaiah concludes, not exactly believing that was the only reason, perhaps if he tossed in a few insults it seemed a lot more plausible. ‘ you could easily answer that question yourself. ’ a tilt of his head ‘ would I be out here if I did enjoy pretentious conversations and feign interest the same old tedious stories? ’ he lightly challenges ‘ you should know me enough to figure that this isn’t exactly my crowd or event. ’

' only when my morality says i should, ’ cypress banters back as he tucks in his shirt proper, making no comment on how skewed both of their moral compasses must be in this business. he’s felt plenty of guilt in his day, not much now. maybe that’s one of the few perks of having little to no autonomy; it’s easy to pretend he isn’t culpable in what happens. ‘ opium decided she needed some arm candy to go with her other accessories, ’ he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice that says her picking him clearly isn’t a typical flower-for-hire situation, ‘ you toting along anyone i’d know about? ’ if h has a flower, he’d probably find out the next day either way, but it’s worth it to see if he can jump the gun now that he’s schmoozing with a kingpin.

h isn’t taking his vague answers and cypress doesn’t really blame him, ‘ my argument was more antagonistic than persuasive, ’ he admits with a shrug that says he really isn’t sorry for going down in defense of a compatriot, ‘ but i needed some fresh air anyways. just like you, yeah? ’ considering what cypress knows about the older man ( not as much as he’d like ) from the times he’d worked for him, the answer seems on brand, ‘ i get that. i’d ask why you bothered to come then, but i guess we’re all trying to pass as clean for the cameras. ’ or at least, the big-wigs were. there was another mercy of being the little guy, how much of it really mattered?

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(nghtshvde‌)

              The Poison rolled her eyes at his compliment, a “Uhuh” escaping her in the meanwhile. “Call me ‘Shady’ again and you’ll really feel my foot up your ass,” she adds, stepping back as he crawled through the window. Night crosses her arms, tilting her head at his explanation. “—Oh, I've  noticed,” she nods, brows raising considerably. “But what really makes me curious is the fact that you said ‘my girl’? Didn’t know Eve allowed her flowers to be in relationships, Cy.”

             "Duly noted.” Cypress’ pleased expression flipped over to chastised in a heartbeat, eyes going solemn as he pushed himself back to his feet. Her intrigue made him laugh, though the comment on Eve added a serrated edge to the sound, “Figure of speech. My girl, my date. The pal who so charitably got me the in on this evening of ‘fine’ people, though I use that term as loosely as Eve uses ‘virgin’ when she pawns the innocent-looking ones off,” Cypress’ head tilted –  lolled to the side as he gave her a darkly amused look, all signs of contrition gone, “Either way, Nightshade, you know better than anyone... some days, I really don’t give a shit what Eve allows.”

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(madhatmercury‌)

“I will pay you ten thousand dollars right now if you can tell me just one tiny thing about the Diamonte District’s property value and inflation rates that actually makes sense.”  She didn’t break stride as she tossed the snide comment and accompanying smirk over her shoulder, raising both eyebrows to the ceiling and pursing her lips.

They settled into an open slot on the dance floor that cleared at the change of song, the upbeat and eclectic rhythm seemed to ward off some of the more conservative couples that had been doing whatever lackluster swaying they probably considered ‘dancing’.  Allie called it lazy rich people shit.  It was probably a little of both.

“I know how to do a lot of things that might surprise you, Nicky-boy.”  An exaggerated wink followed a dramatic spin to face him, grabbing his hand and shoulder simultaneously. “You’ll find I’m far more mysterious than you even hope to be.”

“Why, do they teach dance classes in the Garden?  Wouldn’t put it past your boss, actually, now that I think about it.”

“Tell me where to get my hands on ten thousand dollars first,” Cypress quipped with a grin, “I’ll even listen. I find that information much more valuable than hearing stats on apartments purposefully priced so people like me will never live there.” He couldn’t have looked more delighted at Merc’s quick snap to position, should’ve expected that if anyone was going to jump to the challenge without a second thought it’d be their local pint-size hacker. 

“My illustrious high school stage career, actually,” Cypress shot back, putting on an expression of mock-skepticism at her confidence, he had to push it just a little further, “Alright then surprise me.” He grabbed the slim hand on his shoulder, moved Mercury down to his waist instead and then rested his hand on her shoulder.

 The band was swinging gleefully into the perfect tempo. Cypress had challenge written all over his face. “Lead on, Miss Mystery. I’m ready to be blown away.” 

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(thusnarcissuswept‌)

if you can’t say anything nice about anyone else, come sit next to me didi’s cafe, post-gala closed to @rebelliumhq

Julian was still hungry. Not at all for food–their still-strong hangover made everything taste like lukewarm oatmeal, which was such a drag it really wasn’t worth eating much at all except for basic sustenance–but for information. Vinny had been helpful on the facts, bless his all-business-all-the-time heart, and Merc filled in some of the dirtier details, but clearly there was still more to the gala than they yet knew. Luckily they had an idea of who to go to next for the missing pieces of this outrageous puzzle.

Strutting down the street and right up to the doors of Didi’s, they poked their head in for a glance around. This was, in fact, the fifth establishment they’d gone to in search of Cypress, but each miss only furthered their resolve. They would track him down eventually. In fact, there he was in the corner, all dark colors and superbly messy hair, adorning the cafe better than any decor could.

Grinning like the joyful fool they were, Julian strolled right over and thrust their arms out wide. “Cy, my charming friend, please tell me you have the hottest of all tea to spill about the party last night. I am desperate, I am dying of thirst. Save me so I can give you the world!” Not one thought of anyone else in the cafe being able to hear this declaration crossed their mind. They gestured to the empty chair opposite Cypress, only just realizing it was even there. “Mind if I sit?”

When Nick woke up, having slept sprawled on top of his half-made bed and still in his gala clothes, the first thing he thought of (after thirsty/bad mouth taste/headache/too bright) were the huevos rancheros at Didi’s, to the point that he almost went as is before his pride caught up to his hangover. Any night out ending without arrest required a sloppy, generous helping of fried eggs and re-fried beans to celebrate, especially considering he’d managed to mix drunk and disorderly and some light B&E without major consequences. At least, no major consequences he knew about yet.

Narcissus found the Flower in the middle of said ‘celebration’, smothering a yawn in the palm of his hand as Cypress mopped up the remains of his thoroughly decimated breakfast with his last tortilla. There was no mistaking the bleary-yet-startled expression on his face, blinking rapidly up at his sudden and characteristically energetic guest, but Cypress still gave them a lopsided smile when the Poison’s identity registered beyond loud-and-here-for-me.

“Y’know, you should start lugging around a megaphone, you can make sure the dry cleaners next door hear too,” Cypress said by way of sleepy-cheery greeting, pulling his legs back off the opposite chair and using a foot to push it out far enough for them to sit, “She’s all yours,” He huffed out a laugh at the question, eyebrows quirking up as he turned it back on Narc instead of giving them their treat immediately, critical and poking fun all at once, “Speaking of said party, I’m surprised you weren’t there starting shit with the rest of us. Was just your kinda scene...”

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(lithiumlegacy‌)

who: @rebelliumhq​

when: august 14, around 7 pm

where: outside mosaic church 

“Didn’t think you were the religious type, Cypress.” Raleigh commented, body slouched against the outside church walls. A few feet of the door, he had his head leaned back against the brick, arms crossed over his chest. Dark eyes lazily following the flower as he emerged from the church, he eventually eased himself off the wall and straightened up before taking a few steps toward the other man. 

Truth be told, he wasn’t lying. When he had asked around for the flower, an eyebrow had raised when someone had mentioned seeing him going into Mosaic recently. Of course, who was he to judge what someone one believed in? Despite his own rather complicated relationship with God, he’d spent enough time around Isaiah to know what it meant to others.   Still, that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t allowed to be surprised in some cases but in the end, it didn’t matter. Raleigh was seeking out Cypress for a reason. 

When would people ever learn that stealing from H would only lead them down a rather slippery road? Especially when Raleigh was the one icing the ground. Still, one of their dealers had decided to press his luck, stealing more and more product and selling it under the table under the impression that H wouldn’t retaliate or even notice. He always noticed - it’s what made him so good. Of course, now that the problem had presented itself, it was up to him to solve it. 

“Come to offer you dinner and a job.”

If Cypress was going to be ambushed by anyone outside of a church, short of Cass, he figured he could do a lot worse than Peyote, even posing the way the Drug was. It meant business, not trouble (or weren’t those one in the same?). "Haven’t you heard the good word?” Cypress shot back in return, nodding up to the church windows, “God opens his arms even to us sacrilegious sinners.”

He wasn’t religious, more out of indifference rather than active malicious atheism, but other flowers had been. Flowers that had gotten in and out since Cypress had been serving his sentence, who would rather pass back notes through their Dertosa priest than play fast and loose going through Eden without Eve cracking them open to see how her old ‘employees’ were faring in the big, scary world. No, Cypress preferred this. Even the illusion of private communication, just to check up on an old friend, offered some comfort. And Peyote didn’t need to know any more detail than seeing him exit. 

“Y’know, it’s only society that expects you to wine n’ dine me first,” Cypress mused around the filter of an unlit cigarette as he extracted a lighter from his pocket, pausing until the flame caught and smoke rose in curls around his face before stashing it again and giving the Drug a friendly once-over, cracking a small smile, “But I’ll bite. What’ve you got for me?”

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(salvatin‌)

a dry chuckle escapes his lips ‘ no, not jesus. ’ he jokes, his initial response had been another, something about fellow, female flowers finding to religion too whenever they were with him, praising the lord quite frequently—- he’d opted for another instead. the coin moves still and he catches onto nick watching it. something he’s used to, while the habit settled his mind, calmed him, it generally irritated everyone else and was deemed as annoying. ‘ and I think you’re just fine, you are articulate still and no partial paralysis either. ’ he remarks, the coin flips of his thumb, spins up into the air before it returns to his palm and wanders again. ‘ if you want though—- I could take you to the hospital just to be sure. ’ a joke ‘ I reckon though, you’d much rather get back in there? ’ a nod forward, towards the window he’d just knocked on. something he could help with too. 

‘ who was the argument with? and what about? ’ he won’t let him that easily off the hook. he wanted the entire story and then he’d perhaps take him back inside. ‘ whatever drink? ’ he’s bluffing. H. isn’t stupid, knows enough about chemicals, about diluting substances one way or another. so yes, he’d caught on to that. 

‘ you’re hilarious, ’ nick deadpans, taking the hand over his heart and using it to rake his hair back into place again, then straightening the collar of his shirt, going through all the motions of making himself look presentable instead of extremely tousled. he owes his longstanding ‘errands’ arrangement with the man in front of him for the level of comfort he feels with him, even if it isn’t total and somewhat brought on by booze. h goes with the damn coin again and nick squints when he watches it fly, blinking rapidly to shake himself into paying attention to the actual conversation. ‘ i would, yeah. guilty conscious and all. gotta get back to my date. ’

this time nicky’s squinting at h himself, disbelieving that the older man could’ve missed the big (glorious) show french had just put on, going down kicking and screaming after that trio of hags had tried to frame her. ‘ frenchie. that bullshit that guy onstage pulled with her, ’ nicky was still pissed, pissed that he’d been involved at all, even if he’d had no idea what the true purpose of that ‘favor’ had been, ‘ i told security that it was bullshit and they stunningly didn’t agree with me. ’ he threw his hands up into an exaggerated, what-can-you-do? shrug, before his eyes fixed back on h’s face, ‘ we all have a blast playing pretend in there, but what about you, big cheese? you having fun with the posh types? ’

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(valentinexbomber‌)

He-said she-said. That’s all he ever heard in his line of profession, and for once it was nice for someone else to pick up on that. Whenever these kids starting their spiels Valenitne frequently wanted to stop them in their tracks to let them know he didn’t give a shit, and more often than not he did.. Thankfully for Nicky he was in a pretty good mood, disturbances aside.

Valentine snorted. “How’d you like me to go about tossin’ you out if you’re already out here, kid?”  

It didn’t take a keen eye to see that the kid was more than a little buzzed; it was the type of high that Val had been missing more and more these days. What he wouldn’t give... 

“What’d you lose?” he asked. It was a test, first and foremost, but you could also color the pugilist curious to see what was important enough to bring him to the alley, not once, but twice in one night.

If the security guy hadn’t picked up on his state by that point, the burble of laughter that came out of him would’ve done the trick, Cypress doing his best to smother it beneath a hand as he let his head fall back against the brick, beautifully unthinking of how grubby every single inch of that alley had to be, “Throw me into the main street, then,” Cypress conceded, rolling his eyes upwards without an ounce of malice behind it, “Just for the humiliation with the pain, s’good teaching moments.” 

His leg had started bouncing out of nervous energy, though the fact he had any energy left in his body for fidgeting seemed truly incredible, Cypress still halfway groping for the matches he knew he’s gotta have. 

“Phone,” Said with another accompanying chuckle, lifting one shoulder in a self-deprecating shrug as he mimed the universal phone signal with his hand, “Y’know, I’d leave the damn thing and sneak in again tomorrow, but you know how Eve is about missed calls..” Oh, right. There’s the underlying paranoia. There’s the reason he’s not in bed right now while the room gently sways around him instead of the bricks. 

Quite frankly, he had no idea if Bomber knew a damn thing about Eve other than her name. Wouldn’t have made his Flower status so obvious sober in the day time, but he doesn’t even know if the guy’ll understand. Or that it’ll make a difference if he does. Looking at the door a bit remorsefully now, humor drained out of him like dirty water out of a tub, Cypress figured at least Gin’d get a good laugh out of hearing her tots buddy ended up passing out behind Vices for the night.

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(madhatmercury‌)

who: open when: a couple hours in where: the dance floor ;]

Winnie had been swarmed by nerdy hospital folks.  Allie had never taken to heart what he’d meant when he said “medical dynasty” until that moment, but now she knew without a doubt that they both had run away from similar shadows.  She’d been lucky, though.  She escaped hers.  Winnie appeared to be drowning in his, which, presented two problems: she couldn’t rescue him without seeming odd, and she was suddenly without a dance partner.  The latter was her immediate issue because dancing was the only redeemable thing about this gala.

Across the room, she spotted a solution.  With giddy urgency, she downed the rest of her current drink before ditching it on the tray of a passing server.  She snaked through the crowd of swaying and chatting bodies until she was in arm’s length of her target.  "Come on!“  She said cheerfully, grabbing their wrist and tugging them onto the dance floor.  

"Stop looking so dreadfully bored.  Let’s dance.”

Considering the fact that his current conversation was dry enough to be literally dehydrating ( or maybe he was just getting too reliant on drinks to get him through these events ), Nick couldn’t have been more pleased to see the Poison who’d hooked him, not even bothering to give an excuse before shooting off into the crowd with her ( after an admiring glance down at her heels, how the fuck did girls move in those? ). “Y’know that was a captivating conversation on property value you just interrupted,” Nicky called teasingly over the music as she led him onto the dance floor, “I hope you can really move to make up for it.”

Head cocked to the side as he sketched out the tempo of the music, an approving smile stretched crookedly across Nick’s face as the band finally choose to go more upbeat, “Alright techie, you know how to Samba?”

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(salvatin‌)

he isn’t surprised that nick attends the gala — he had seen him before, in a different outfit too, he shouldn’t be surprised either that attempts to bargain, to plead with whoever has security to get back in. well, he wasn’t b u t he’d love to hear the story behind it. it’s quite obvious from his position ( he had duck out to take yet again for a cigarette ) that the flower wouldn’t be able to argue and plead his way back in. he could help that, for the right price.

‘ got yourself locked out? ’ he makes his presence known, approaching nick with something like a smirk playing around his lips. the coin is back, wandering from finger to finger in a slow and lazy fashion. he’s quite bored, nick’s tale, isaiah knows could possibly change that. ‘ what did you do? spilt your drink on the wrong person? ’

fight or flight kicks in in two seconds or less when cypress hears that voice behind him, his instinct-brain deciding on fight but blessedly slowly enough that he doesn’t actually deck one of his employers in the face. instead  — ‘ jesus christ! ’  he blurts out, having whirled away from the window and prepared a decent fist for whatever guard he was convinced had snuck up behind him ( the person he was appealing to inside seems to agree and turns away to leave him to the wolves, the bastard ). 

cypress groans, pressing a hand over his chest as his heart slowly gets the message that the threat doesn't exist , ‘ fuck. i think i just had a stroke, ’ his eyes latch onto the movement of h’s coin for a second, far more interesting while nicky’s in this state than it has a right to be, before his mind buffers up that he needs to justify lurking out in the bushes. ‘ nah, i argued with the wrong person, ’ he shrugs with a breathless laugh, ‘ you saw what they were pulling with that drink, didn’t you? ’ 

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(nghtshvde‌)

                Upon a knock, Nightshade raises a brow as a darkened silhouette appears behind the glass-stained window. Champagne in one hand, the brunette steps back as she pulls it open, greeted by an especially suspicious Cypress. “—The hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t think they closed the front doors, Cy.” She laughs, stepping back with hands on her hips. “…Also, pretty sure I saw you wearing red, so… what gives?”

             “Shady, I don’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful than you do right now,” Cypress said by way of greeting, grinning at her gratefully as he hauled himself up and back into the building with a little ‘hup!’. It took a second to right himself fully, two seconds for his stomach to stop reeling from the sudden movement, but Cypress was just pleased with his unnecessarily complicated plan having worked. “Got into trouble, wasn’t gonna abandon my girl without explanation first,” Was all he cheerfully said to the Poison for an explanation, “You tryin’ to tell me you haven’t noticed the bullshit going on here?” 

[rebelliumhq-blog]

who: open to all when: post-frenchie’s dramatic exit where: a corridor off of the main event room 

There was only one reason Nick was in his current situation instead of still laughing on the curb with French and that reason was Cassidy. Sure, he may have actually whooped out loud when French’s fist connected to Tall, Blonde, and WASP’s jaw, and maybe he’d gotten a little rowdy himself arguing with the guards escorting her out of the building until they decided to help him out the same way, but he'd be damned if he'd stay on his ass cracking jokes outside while his best friend remained stuck in there with the mob after Toxin blood. So, Nick had nicked a spare pair of black trousers from the catering company  (  – just a bit too tight, but what the fuck else was he going to do when he’d been stupid enough to go in something as identifiable as red fucking striped pants ), shoved the offending suit into the bushes in the museum's narrow side gardens, and hauled himself sideways through said bushes until he was crowded up against a window. At least four of the sangrias in his stomach from gossiping with Frenchie said excellent idea.

The floor inside was at his waist and the bottom window pane had been slid up just an inch, for the sake of circulation Nicky guessed, still too awkward for him to heft from his angle while he caught his breath. But there was someone on the other side. Someone who could potentially take one look at him and call the police or, if he was really lucky, decide to go the nontraditional route for philanthropy. Whatever. He was gonna get back to his date one way or another, even if it ended with Cassidy bailing him out at the end of the night. 

Nicky smoothed down the collar on his button-up, knocked against the glass twice, waited til the poor bastard inside glanced down for the source and then put on his best pleading kicked-orphan/drunk Oliver Twist face as he mimed opening the window before pressing his hands together for good measure, prayer-style. Talk about the kindness of fuckin’ strangers. 

[rebelliumhq-blog]

(cassiopivm‌)

Cass rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to show my face in this town again if anyone found out I didn’t pay full price.” There was something she would never understand, something that separated her from the hundreds of gala attendees who had so much money they were practically drowning in it - what was the big deal? Of course it was nice to be able to provide for yourself, but did you really need three houses, six cars, and outfits that you wore once and then donated to charity? The “elite,” as they liked to be called, could really stand to learn a thing or two. “You fit in at these things, Nick. You know how to talk to people and pretend you like ridiculous little tart hors d’oeuvres.” She squeezed his arm lightly. “Promise you’ll take me to the Oscars one day, though, okay?” Wouldn’t that shock everyone, Poppy and Cypress on top of the world… “Honestly, I would like to avoid as many lengthy conversations as possible,” Cass admitted. “More food and alcohol, less intelligent conversation.”

"The key is to pretend like every single one of these lowlives is just as much of an imposter as you are,” Nick said cheerfully, plucking a flute of champagne off of the tray of a nearby waiter and passing it to Cass, “Here, just because I’ve sworn off the bubbly doesn’t mean you’re condemned to the same fate. I’m relying on you to have a good time too.” He flashed a twisted sort of smile at her at the mention of a future Oscars, swallowing back a sardonic comment in favor of appreciating the sentiment of the thing, even if he’d buried that dream deep in the damn earth years ago. Letting it go was infinitely less exhausting than hanging on. “Sure thing, Cass,” Nick said softly, not lingering on it and forcing the smile more genuinely pleasant as his eyes roamed over the crowd. “But before that, I’m also relying on you to introduce me to at least one rich and influential person to dazzle with our wit. I know you’re networking up in that big fancy hotel.” 

[rebelliumhq-blog]

who: @yourxvngel (and @ofxfrenchie eventually ;-) ) when: time is fake, well into the night where: main hall

The first mistake was getting separated from Cassidy. The second and third mistakes were chardonnay and a tequila sunrise respectively, but at least the latter two were doing something to dampen the annoyance of the trio of heavily made up woman-children descending on him with a look in their eyes like they were about to pinch his cheek at a Christmas party or maybe leeringly ask him poolside to rub sunscreen into their leathery, spray-tanned legs. The combination of images was not a winning one, and Nicky doubted heavily that even Cassidy’s presence could’ve saved him from the H currently cooing in his ear about favors. 

Favors. Please.Thinly veiled orders, more like it, there was no such thing as a genuine ‘request’ from a Pill who knew what Cypress was. Even off the job, the pretty little assumption was there that he would do any inane thing they asked of him. With the one in the pinkest possible dress pointing for him like a kindergarten teacher to a slim figure through the crowd while she slipped a little black pouch into his hand, Nicky was thankful for the blurry edges to his focus that meant just enough struck to grasp the basis of what they wanted from him without dwelling too long on the details that would only piss him off more on a night that was supposedly work-free. Whatever. The less of a fuss he made out of being package boy, the sooner it’d be over and he could find Cass again and commiserate on how fucking weird rich people were. 

Nick hefted the weight of the pouch in his palm as he angled through the  bodies towards the glimpse of blue and blonde across the room. Whatever it was, it was damn heavier than just a wad of bills. One of the H’s had chirped  about privacy but curiosity had killed several cats smarter than Cypress and he pried it open just enough to catch a glimpse of the contents: a folded sheet of paper and -- ooh, something very shiny. “Jesus Christ,” Nicky muttered with an incredulous little ha! of laughter. Whatever the fuck Angel was getting involved with, this was one hell of a payment. If dealing with the country club crew didn’t make him want to violently asphyxiate, it might be worth it to strike up purposeful business. 

“Fedex Delivery from the sketchiest threesome of trophy soccer moms in Dertosa,” Nicky declared by way of greeting as he pulled up alongside the drug, offering her the velvet pouch hanging by a ribbon loop from his pointer finger, “One of ‘em said you’d ‘just know’ what it was for, which was creepy as shit, but I kinda figured that was on purpose.” He jiggled the pouch at her encouragingly, “You dealin’ directly to high class suburbia now?”