HEY,Β i think i just sawΒ KAEL KANGΒ walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and youβll learn theΒ THIRTY-TWO YEAR OLDΒ is working as aΒ CASHIER AT SKRATCH RECORDS & TAIL GUNNER OF THE CACTUS CATS Β and lives inΒ CACTUS RIDGE TRAILER PARK. given they areΒ LOYALΒ butΒ STANDOFFISH,Β itβs unlikely that theyΒ ARE NOTΒ a vampire. on the flipside, rumor has it thatΒ HE MUTINIED ON HIS FORMER EMPLOYER TO PROTECT THE CACTUS CATS, WHICH PUT A TARGET ON HIS HEAD WITH THE VITELLI FAMILYΒ and it keeps them looking over their shoulder. i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor toΒ VAGABONDS by NEW MODEL ARMYΒ and youβll know why theyβre calledΒ THE HANGED MAN.Β (nonbinary + he/they. bisexual + aquarius.)
IMPORTANT LINKS: stats. pinterest.
NOTE: please do not refer to kael as a man! most other masculine terms are okay though. kael himself doesn't really care if he's referred to as a man but he isn't one so please keep this in mind! he's nonbinary with a sort of neutral/androgynous presentation that just happens to lean a little more masc
BASICS.
Although he doesn't go by it very often at all, Kael's Korean name is Kang Hyunjin. (btw any similarity to a certain kpop idol's name, even the fact the surname rhymes, is pure coincidence asdfgh I settled on this as Kael's name not long after I first made him in 2014)
Despite working as tail gunner for the Cactus Cats, Kael isn't actually that passionate about vehicles in general; he does the work because he's good at it and he likes taking shit apart to see how they work. He does like motorbikes specifically and knows quite a lot about them but he has no interest in cars.
Kael used to work for the Vitelli family, after moving from London to Las Vegas with a friend he'd met living on the streets as a teen runaway. Eventually, he grew to resent the dirty work he was doing and grew disobedient enough to attempt to mutiny against his employer. This, of course, put a target on his head which, at some point, resulted in his friend taking a bullet intended for Kael, leading to his violent and bloody death. This encouraged Kael to run away from this life altogether and has haunted him ever since.
Kael has ADHD. He also has pretty severe anxiety and PTSD as a result of his history. These are, again, undiagnosed. He suffers from regular nightmares and has experienced his fair share of panic attacks. He's also had his struggles with depression over the years and deals with a lot survivor's guilt after his best friend's sacrificial death.
In general, Kael's health probably leaves a lot to be desired. He smokes, he doesn't sleep properly, he doesn't eat right; overall he doesn't really do much to look out for himself. The only thing that's really improved since Hana came into his care is that he's less inclined to do things that might get him killed. Sort of. He is still a Cactus Cat.
On that note, Hana is his eight-year old daughter and p much the #1 thing getting him through the day at this point. He's only been raising her for about four years, the former half of her life having spent with her mother who left her in Kael's care for her own safety. He'd known Hana prior to this but it wasn't until she was left with him that he learned she was his biological child. Despite everything, he took to parenthood quite quickly and Hana remains the centre of his world.
He has a way of coming off very aloof and standoffish and is often written off a nastier person than he actually is. The truth is that he just has a lot of walls built up, as truth does NOT come easily to him, and he has a pretty sarcastic sense of humour. Also, he has kind of a short fuse but this is usually directed towards pretty trivial upsets and, honestly, it's hard to describe him as aggressive. He can be a little volatile but it's more of a quirk than an out-and-out problem. Once you get to know him better, you'll probably figure out that he just has a lot of trust issues AND more energy than he knows what to do with. It explains a lot.
Although his fashion sense is largely just punk-inspired without really fully committing (although he does absolutely dress like he should be in a band), his outlook on life is fairly punk in itself. He's extremely anti-establishment and is very open about his distaste of the rich and powerful; he has been known to use posh as an insult (please know he's not going to dislike someone on a personal level just for being rich, although if someone wealthy does befriend him then there is a good chance he'll make fun of them for it). Ultimately, Kael's politics are driven by empathy and a respect for other humans. Despite his cold and distant exterior, Kael does genuinely care about people.
Kael has a distinct London accent, leaning more towards the East End. It's not especially strong or thick but it's still very much a London accent. (And I mean that it's not especially strong by London standards; he still sounds extremely English.) He's fluent in English and Korean, and conversational in Japanese.
He loves spicy food. Like, really loves it. And he has a high tolerance for it. It's not a problem, even when it makes his eyes water and his nose run. He also has a high tolerance for alcohol. And he's really not afraid of heights. Or danger. It all makes for a pretty reckless person. He is scared of bugs though, ESPECIALLY spiders. And he has very mixed feelings about horses (he doesn't think they should be that big; don't ask).
Kael has a bunch of piercings, mostly ear piercings. He has several in each year and one navel piercing. He has no interest in getting any more. He also has some tattoos, five in total. He hasn't added any for a good few years but he's not against getting more. They're all black ink tattoos without colour and any further tattoos would be in the same vein. Specific locations are; right below his collarbone, his left wrist, above his right hipbone (but below his ribs), between his shoulder blades and down his spine.
Kael is NOT, nor will he ever be, available for romantic plotlines & shipping. This is because Kael is pretty much perma-shipped with my friend's oc, with whom he's been romantically involved in different settings for over a decade & is the mysterious disappeared mother of his child. I have no interest in shipping him with anybody else, even when said oc isn't present. (Instead, they're a pretty permanent fixture in Kael's backstories, wherever I write him.)
Location: Goob Lagoon
Date: October 31st
Status: Open ( @boneyardstarters )
"You want one?" The lighter flickers to life and the wobbling flame ignites the cigarette hanging from his lips. Aviel's already taken off his frog-faced beret, so at the moment he doesn't look like he's in costume. Just an older guy who really likes the color green. But the crime scene investigator doesn't much care. "Believe it or not, all I have in my pocket besides my keys are cigarettes, and a fun-sized bag of gummy worms. My granddaughter would flay me if I didn't bring her back her favorite." He holds the carton of cigs out and waggles eyebrows.
"You started drinking yet? I heard there were some good cocktails."
"Yeah, alright. Why not, right?" Kael had never been one to refuse what's being given for free, so long as it didn't come with the attached burden of pity or charity. He was never exactly rolling in it, after all, and didn't particularly consider himself in a position to go turning things down. Cigarette swiped from the carton, Kael fumbled in his own pocket for a moment until he was able to locate his own lighter and get to smoking. "What age? Your granddaughter, I mean?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. "Got a kid back home myself, she'll probably be expecting some kind of haul out of me." Or, maybe, this guy had just unintentionally gotten through the part of Kael that was worrying way to much about the fact he'd left Hana at home for the nightβ sure, she was in good hands but, if Kael wasn't worried about something, you'd better check his pulse just to be sure.
"Not quite yet. Was hoping there'd be something cheaper and more straightforward," said Kael, with a dry laugh. He'd never claimed to be a person of simple tastes but, when it came to alcohol, he really didn't care to think that hard. "Heard any reviews on the drinks from anyone else? 'Cause I'm passing on the whole lot if they're too heavy on the syrup. Not much of a sweet tooth, me."
When: Friday, September 6th, 1996
Where:The Mines
With: Dahlia (@takemyheart--pullitapart) and Kael (@rebelscaped)
They werenβt paying him enough for this.
Hell, they werenβt paying him at all, which begged the question: why had he been out looking for a human who really shouldnβt have been his problem? The whining, for starters. A few people went missing and suddenly there was nothing else to talk about at the bar. More importantly, though, was the nature of those disappearances, a distinct familiarity that had alarm bells blaring at the back of his mind after what had happened in his basement not nearly long enough ago. There was no such thing as a coincidence.
His leads had been solid, solid enough that heβd been ready to take what heβd learned back to the rest of the Catβs to let them deal with what would probably be a fruitless rescue mission but heβd taken a detour. Β One moment heβd been pushing a door open, the next heβd woken up hereβ¦Wherever the hell here was. This, admittedly, Β was Γlvaroβs second least favorite way to wake up, the feeling of dirt beneath him and the damp, earthen smell around him making his least favorite a distinct enough concern to force him to open his eyes despite how disoriented he felt. Heβd barely gotten a look at his surroundings, let alone his bearings when a familiar face- and an unfamiliar weapon- loomed.
Being right all the time wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Thereβs no time to dodge, his arm lifted more on instinct than intentional self defense. The fact that his nose wasnβt broken would probably be the only consolation he got for the dull ache now throbbing through his wrist, considering his current host. βLong time no see, Doll.β Β The nickname is drawn out, deliberate and annoying as he looked around them with all the airs of a critic and not someone desperately looking for an exit. βHope this isnβt the welcome party. Not your best work.β Β He clicked his tongue, shifting away from her and into a crouch, keeping a wary eye on the woman. βYou plan on telling me why youβre here?β If they were where he thought they were, escape was going to be easier said than done. He didnβt need her answer, he needed time and a plan. Keeping her talking could at least buy him a little of the former. βLot of effort just to watch me sleep. Most women at least try to buy me a drink first.β
One by one, Dahlia had been collecting her proverbial debts--of course, confronting who she'd assumed was Sibel hadn't exactly gone as she'd originally planned but really, that just left her with an even more insatiable taste for revenge. Perhaps she'd never really be content. That was certainly a possibility but it wasn't one that even felt worth weighing. She'd lived a long, lonely life and she'd probably continue to do so. Why fight it? It was better to give in to the rage and the seething hatred. And as it turns out, Alvaro was next on her list.
When he finally came to, a sickening grin crept across her face. She was intent on enjoying this. Approaching him, sheathed dagger in hand, she raised it above him but perhaps it was naΓ―ve to think that he'd be rendered totally helpless because just as she was bringing down the butt of the knife (she wasn't actually going to slice his face--not yet, at least), he raised his arm and dodged her attack. Long time, no see, Doll. She couldn't help but smile--though, it wasn't a friendly smile but more of a smile that said 'Oh, this is going to be fun.' He could try to dodge her all he wanted but she had him cornered and she was hellbent on keeping it that way. Make no mistake, Dahlia had not underestimated her adversary. She knew what Alvaro was capable of and he was very skilled in his craft. But she wasn't just some dumb human. She could take him.
Hope this isnβt the welcome party. Not your best work. Oh, he didn't realize what he was in for. "Oh, querido," she said with a shake of her head. "I'm just warming up." When he asked why he was there, she just laughed. As if she was going to give it up that easily. Besides, in reality, he should already know why he was here. He was a traitor and he knew it. Lot of effort just to watch me sleep. Most women at least try to buy me a drink first. Eyebrows raised, she said "Yeah, well, you're not really my type--but I suppose you're right, I guess I could be a bit more hospitable." Unsheathing her dagger, she began to pace, always keeping her eye on him. "Not that you'd give us the curtesy of hospitality, of course. You'd rather just run away, wouldn't you?" She sharpness in her voice was unmistakable. After all, she'd never really been one to hide the way she felt. There was no point. "How is it, working for the Cactus Cats? Tell me, do you like them simply because they feed your ego? I mean, you've made quite the name for yourself, Vulture."
She could've continued on all night--she had plenty to fucking say--but then, behind her, back in the darkness, the sound of something dragging across the floor made her take pause. Then came the sound of a low moan and the vampire looked at Alvaro, eyes full of excitement, her sharp teeth forming into a menacing grin. "I have a gift for you, Alvaro," she said, the thrill in her voice evident. "You wait right here."
It was not a wholly unfamiliar experience, this. The ebbing flow of consciousness, vision fading to and from total darkness, he'd been there before. More times than he could likely count. More times than any person with any good sense should have been. Not that Kael lacked sense, of course. But things like self-preservation had never come too easily to him and he'd thrown himself head first into any number of dirty messes in his thirty-odd years of life. Every time his vision did threaten to focus once more, however, it brought with it a sharp, searing pain. The source of it was hard to place. It seemed to come from many places at once. He was used to that feeling too. Bruised, beaten, bloody. Been there, done that. The burning in his neck was different though. That one felt new. Unpleasant. But he was struggling to give it too much thought. The hows and the whys were something of a blur.
He lifted a hand to his neck, as if to confirm, and his fingers met something hot. Damp. Viscous. Sticky. Blood. He knew it immediately. Had spent enough time clutching his own wounds and hissing through the pain to recognise it on contact. There was something of a sick, twisted irony in thatβ his old friend had died from a bullet wound to the throat, bled to death from a neck wound. A blow he'd taken in order to save Kael's life. If he died here, like this, would it have all been in vain? This wasn't a bullet wound, however, Kael could figure that much out. As he struggled to focus, Kael could begin to hear voices in the near-distance. In the very same room, perhaps. What they were saying, however, was much harder to make out and he could scarcely discern anything over the sound of his own ragged breath. Rough. Shallow. Breathing itself felt like a struggle.
Whatever happened next, it happened much too quickly for Kael's barely conscious mind to keep up. While his thoughts were still somewhere on the floor, feeling pathetic and pitiful, his body was yanked from the ground and thrown forward, like some unwanted ragdoll. An attempt was made to find his footing, to keep himself grounded, but, even if he'd had the strength to pull that off, Kael had already crashed into another body. Suddenly, the pain from those injuries, wherever else they were, was much harder to ignore. A loud grunt of pain escaped him as he fell against this other person. The ground rushed to meet them both and, for Kael, he would not be in rush to assume this was the first time this had happened tonight.
cactus ridge trailer park, 30th july / @boneyardstarters
"Great. Really fucking great. Brilliant. Fan-fucking-tastic, exactly what I needed!"
These words were, of course, hissed under his breath. His daughter, Hana, had of course been asked to stay inside the trailer already and, despite her impulsive streak, was generally well-behaved enough to do as she was told but he was still hesitant to go swearing up a storm at a volume loud enough for her to catch it. Kael was used to rain and wind. Of course he was, he was English. But his own experience wouldn't change that the trailer park was not built to resist this weather. However, dragging sandbags around was boring, tiring and annoying, as much as it was deeply necessary.
In a fit of (admittedly quite immature) impatience, Kael tossed one bag aside, as if he was sick of the sight of it. This was a laboured task itself, given the weight of the thing, but he hadn't exactly been looking about himself at the time. The awkward sound of a person tumbling over had him whipping around in an instant, a guilty sort of grimace plastered across his face. "Uh... ahh... are you, uh... good?" (Is that really the best he could offer??)
with his guitar hanging from his back, he makes his way down the streets of downtown vegas. he's just gotten off his shift at the club, and he's just not ready to return home, not yet at least. he lights up a cigarette as he continues to walk, admiring the various neon lights all over the place. it's one of those things that never gets old to him. definitely makes him look like a tourist, but he doesn't mind too much.
he makes his way into a nearby convenience store, in search of some snacks and maybe another carton of smokes. he is running low, after all. stepping backwards after grabbing a bag of twizzlers, he ends up bumping into someone by accident and nearly knocks them on their ass while he's at it. shit.
"fuck, my bad!" he exclaims as he goes to steady them. "i can be oblivious sometimes, sorry about that."
As much as being walked into had taken Kael by surprise, just for a moment, nothing showed on his face but a resigned frustration. It was the expression of a person who'd come to just expect this sort of thing to happen and had reached a point in his life where disappointment was his only natural reaction. Some might be tempted, after all, to describe Kael as chronically unfortunate. True enough, if it had been earlier in the day or he just happened to be in a slightly more energetic mood, he might have snapped out some needlessly blunt retort, some flavour of watch where the fuck you're going! (after which he would have only felt somewhat embarrassed because, like, what the fuck?), so perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that they'd all reached the end of a long day.
"It's fine, it happens," said Kael, words half-mumbled as he reached behind him, as if to confirm exactly what shelf had almost been knocked into disarray had this stranger not caught him at the last moment. Chips. Yeah, that could have been a mess. "If I've got to be perfectly fucking honest, I wasn't paying attention either," he added, with a wry laugh. "Guess it's bound to happen, eh? When two daft fucks who don't look where they're going cross paths?" He yanked one of the bag of chips off the shelf, just to make the reaching look a little more intentional and less frantic. "You weren't at risk of taking a tumble yourself, were you?"
where : the neon museum
when : june 10th, 1996
who : @boneyardstarters
"JOELLE, I KNOW THAT ISN'T YOUR THIRD COOKIE ALREADY," Stella's voice called over the music as lined eyes, curtesy of her friends who helped her get ready previous to the ceremony, zeroed in on the ten year old who was wearing a gleeful look with the cookie crumbles around her mouth. There was no true harshness of her tone, as not even dealing with three little girls on a sugar rush was able to drop the smile from her face, too overjoyed with the new ring on her finger to have a single negative feeling, which was a feat for the queenpin who had spent majority of her life feeling jaded and attacked by the universe. Fingers gripped onto the fabric of her dress, clutching a handful to keep herself from tripping over it as she turned around, unfamiliar not only with wearing such a formal dress but with any piece of clothing that was worth more than fifteen bucks at most. "Oh, shit, watch out," was her attempt to keep any accidental steps off the lacy train that she wasn't doing a very good job of keeping out of the way of foot traffic. "I'm not really great at this whole wedding dress thing. Good thing I only gotta do it once, right?" There was no lack of confidence that this would be her one and only wedding, a marriage that could only find an end in death (which would be their second). "I'd say thanks for coming, but I'm really not tryna play the bride good at hosting. Cy has the charm for that sorta thing over me."
The one to nearly tread all over Stella's train was not Kael but Hana who, in her eagerness to go dash over to that aforementioned trio of girls, was paying no attention to her surroundings whatsoever. It would take Kael holding her by the shoulders, turning her in the right direction and nudging her off for Hana to scurry off without causing any further problems... or so Kael had hoped. Instead, he was forced to watch, perplexed, as Hana immediately walked into another guest, offered her very politest apology and then tripped over right as she reached her target. A sigh. At least he'd tried. "No need to thank me," he said, with a laugh. "I'd be a pretty shitty best man if I decided to not bother showing at the last minute." And, honestly, the only reason he'd have for not showing would be death itself. He cared a lot about both of these people, even outside of the Cats, and Cyrek was his best friend. If anything could say about Kael, it was that, as much as he warmed to people slowly, he was terribly loyal to the ones about whom he did really care. "Doesn't seem like the dress shit's bothering you much either. But, anyway, congrats. Real happy for you both. Couldn't imagine a better pair of people coming together."
with: @boneyardstarters
when: may 20th, 1996
where: the riviera casino & hotel
heather stood stiffly in the corner, a pink dress that felt at once too short and too suffocating. she had no desire to try her hand at the cards, memories of late nights being taught how to play by her drunk father clouding any enjoyment she might get from it. in her hand, an empty glass with just the clues of what was a negroni. the bitter campari still coated her tongue, and she itched for another one. if she was going to play the role of sociable, nice and harmless little heather, she would need a few more. "lovely party." she said to the person resting next to her, a smile that almost didn't look sardonic. "still looking for the prawn cocktails, though."
"Oh, yeah, real lovely," said Kael, in a tone that could only be described as sardonic, perhaps needlessly slow, as he gestured about himself to the rest of the room. "And wasn't it terribly kind of them to invite every sorry bastard in town along, to gape in awe at all the money to have to throw at this fucking waste of time?" Indeed, his voice went from mock-dramatic praise so something a lot blunter. Harsher. This was Kael at his most typical; complaining about the rich. He'd be sorry that he wasn't being all too pleasant about it, if he weren't so certain he had a right to complain. But then, finally turning to face his company, he looked a little bewildered. Right, there was an actual conversation here. "Can't say I've seen 'em myself. Probably gotta have something around here, right? Seems like they've got just about everything else."
The house was quiet without the kids, or Stella, once he had managed to unglue himself from her long enough to push her out the door insistently, as she had tried multiple excuses to stay inside the trailer instead of going out for the bachelorette party, and he had vehemently reminded her it's the one and only that you'll ever get. Once he had gotten rid of her, which sounded as if he actually wanted her gone, as promised, the future best... person and groom were curled up on the couch, an open box of pizza on the coffee table and a couple of beverages from the gas station, and a big toe poking through a hole in one of the socks where his feet were tucked into the couch cushions wiggling about, vehement refusal to replace the well-worn pair of cheap clothing until Stella left a new pack of them on the bed loyally. His arms were crossed over his chest, sweater paws weeping over his hands and mismatched eyes staring with mild disinterest at the movie playing for the fortieth time on television. Had someone told him he'd be having a bachelor party, let alone getting married, in his lifetime, he would've laughed about ten years ago, and probably forgotten about it the following day. Slouched into the cushions and chewing away at his lower lip, a foot struck out and lazily kicked Kael right between the ribs, avoiding the cast his broken wrist had been stuffed into. "Oi. I've got games if you wanna drive ourselves mad with that instead. Cards or board? If I kick your arse at poker, you gotta buy me some ice cream from the drug store when we walk down later. Oh, and it's my bachelor party. So you should probably pay anyway. I think it'd make you a real shit best man if I had to spot the dessert."
As weird as it was to say so plainly, Kael was fairly used to pain. He was also used to getting into scrapes, even fights, and not always coming out the other side unscathed. Annoying as the incident that night was, it hadn't taken him all that long to shrug it off and get on with his life; although it was the sort of thing that might have shaken a different sort of person, this broken wrist was just another item on a stupidly long list of things that annoyed him.
Now, Kael had been somewhat lost in thought when he felt the impact of a foot jammed into his side and it was out of pure instinct that he spluttered out a loud 'OH, FUCK.' Another word would not leave his mouth until he'd given Cyrek a lengthy stare-down, eyes blinking in surprised and a bewildered look etched across his features. "Ow?" he said, defensively. It didn't even hurt that all much.
"So, that's a bet where I lose no matter what? Ain't exactly convincing me of much there, mate," said Kael, with a short laugh. "I'll buy you the fuckin' ice cream but you'd have been better off just asking." He slid off the couch and onto his knees on the floor, reaching over to take a slice of pizza from the box. As far as bachelor parties (or stag dos or whatever the fuck you wanted to call them) went, this likely wasn't all that exciting but maybe that wasn't the damn point. "What other games you got? Ain't saying no to the poker thing, to be clear, but you've gotta get better at making bets, else I'm finding some other shit to play."
weekend of horrors, drive-in, after 8pm / @boneyardstarters
There was a part of him that knew, realistically, he should be a little panicked by this. Stressed out, maybe. Perhaps even a little afraid. But, somehow, the most prominent emotions shooting through his mind were embarrassment and exasperation. A series of mishaps and poorly executed attempts to scramble to gain an upper hand had gotten him into this exact situation but, really, none of it would have happened if the Big Guy back there could have just minded his own fucking business. Perhaps, having only just returned to consciousness, he was too out of it to really accept the weight of the situation. That, and he was in too much pain to think straight. There was little doubt his wrist was broken and it only took the briefest running of his tongue over his teeth to confirm that, no, he hadn't dreamt up that he'd lost one in that fight. (Calling it a fight might have been something of a stretch, given how poorly it had gone.) His mouth still tasted distinctly of iron.
Where did that leave him now? Sat at the drive-in theatre, between two of these big bodyguard-looking guys with no obvious means of escape. To put it simply, he was fucked. Perhaps he might have tried to make a break for it himself but there was little chance of him not getting caught in the best circumstances, never mind right now. It's clumsy, maybe even hopeless, but his only bet now was to try and catch the eye of a passer-by. There were enough people around, after all.
Oi. Look over here, he mouthed, trying to keep his posture stiff enough that the two people he was sat between did not catch on. Now, knowing his luck, the chances of him catching the eye of someone could lipread were fairly low but perhaps the desperate look on his face would speak for itself. You wanna help a guy out? I'm a little stuck.
where : a couple streets off the strip
when : april 5th, afternoon
who : @boneyardstarters
"YOU GONNA JUST STAND THERE AND WATCH ME TRYNA move this thing?" A huff of a breath left her, aggressively swiping a framing lock of bleached hair out of her face, already cursing the desert sun that would continue to become to a worse enemy the closer summer grew. Spring may have only just begun but the rays already bearing down were already an annoyance, despite the darkened aviators covering her eyes. Normally, Stella would've preferred against leaving the trailer so early in the day, but using the free afternoon to get some extra work done on the newly rented property was too enticing. The shelving unit she was much too impatient to wait for her better half to get off of work and aid her in moving into the record store, that barely appeared as much more than simply an empty storefront considering the ongoing renovations, that she had been scraping up the sidewalk was finally decently close to the doorway, which she motioned towards. "You wanna make yourself useful by holding that door open? Just don't go expecting a discount in a few months for the favor."
With a scowl, Kael yanked his hood down off his head, almost as if intending to reveal himself. (Nobody had ever accused him of putting self above acts of unnecessary drama, if the situation called for it.) There was a quirk of an eyebrow, as if to suggest she really should have known it was him; of course, given that he'd been a little covered up and she'd been pretty distracted, this was not the case and he knew it. Still wasn't enough to stop him acting smug about it. "Aw, and here I thought you might've liked me just enough to offer me a sweet little employee discount," he said, hovering a little too deliberately by the store's doorway. It went without saying that, with the business not even being open just yet, he hadn't exactly earned the damn discount but agreeing to help Stella and Cryek out as the cashier had been something of a no-brainer. Not like he had better shit to be doing. He pursed his lips, cocked his head this way and that; a stupid little performance of indecisiveness, designed purely to be annoying. Still, the door was opened, just as she'd asked of him. He leant back against it with a sigh, using his own wiry frame as a make shift doorstop as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and got to work on lighting one. "Hurry it up though, will you?" he said, with a smug little smirk that immediately betrayed the affected tone of impatience. "Don't exactly feel like being stuck here all fuckin' day~"
Looking over toward the other, he felt a sudden annoyance at what the other was saying. His eyes narrowed a bit as he observed this person more closely. Before he looked away, half rolling his eyes as he wasn't sure what he had just heard. Then Bryn offered a grin, βYou don't? Hm. That is interesting. You know. You're really smart.β He complimented, though he guessed the other probably didn't equate that either, as anything significant, anyway, βNot that you might care about something like that.β Bryn then suddenly added, the grin falling off as he brought his attention back to his journal and continued, βIt might be a wasteful thought, to think of yourself too highly, I suppose.β Nodding along with this innocent-sounding comment. Bryn shrugged, βBut thank you for your comment. It gives me something to think about today.β
He then looked away, βThough it would be weirder to say people do deserve to die. Absolutely.β Noting the other cutting himself off, he grinned, eyes scanning over the them, taking in their body language. Bryn turned slightly toward Kael, βIt's a kindness to offer such niceties toward and for others, even strangers. For those still living, that did love them. Tragedy is for everyone. This is a tragedy and a waste.β But he supposed, less decent people would be able to understand that thought process. Bryn watched Kael closely. However, as the other dismissed his theory, he laughed a little bit. Then offered another shrug, βYou got an answer. Even if it's not one you like. It is an answer, is it not?β
Bryn paused a moment, assessing what was said, before continuing, βJust because human beings are monstrous, doesn't mean there are still not other monsters.β Even if he mostly agreed, a human was very likely behind these happenings. But something struck him as odd with Kael's actions, besides the words, βHm. But the question is, what human, among us, is the one doing it?β
"That's not what I meant," said Kael, shoulders slumping as he sighed. This wasn't a new experience for him. In fact, this was basically a routine at this point; say some unhelpful cryptic shit, interrupt yourself out of a belated awareness you're getting caught up in your own thoughts and wait as everyone gets pissed off. Been there, done that. If he cared more about what people thought of him, he might have even made an effort to work on the problem. "What I meant was that there's no point in applying value to human life like that, because it suggests that some lives have more value than others," he went on. "I don't like calling stuff a waste of life because I don't like the idea that there's such thing as a life well-used. I think people's lives matter regardless. It's not about being smart or not." And then, if irked by how serious he was starting to sound, he shrugged. Kael knows how opinionated he can get when pushed into a heavy topic and, believe it or not, he's not in the mood to debate ethics this early in the morning. "I hate that you made me explain that. Sounds like a lot of sanctimonious, self-righteous bullshit when I say it out loud."
But maybe this guy had a point; maybe it's just a nice thing to say to the grieiving. Not that it would have comforted him in his hours of grief, if only because he'd so strongly believed that the real waste had come in the form of Kael's own survival. He could accept, at the very least, he had a skewed view on this sort of thing.
"The issue isn't that humans are monstrous. The issue is that they're human," Kael aid, with a short, bitter laugh. "It's not like I think humans are inhernetly problematic, I think most people are honestly good deep down. But since we're also more capable of feelings like hatred and jealousy and bitterness and contempt, we're also capable of killing for reasons besides natural instinct." Humans were capable of bringing a child into the world simply so they can kill; in that one respect, Kael wonders if he' had more in common with a fighting dog than any human child. Maybe the very topic of personhood was a tricky one for him, all becaused he'd been denied such a simple right until he'd been old enough to take his fate into his own hands. "Beats me, I'm not a cop," he said, shrugging once again. "There's no way they're just releasing all the details out into the world so some citizen detective can come solve their case for them. They'd rather keep that shit to themselves and then kick it under the rug, just like always." Only now did he smile, but it was a sardonic sort of grin, perfectly worn to match the sarcasm that dripped from every word.
Picking up the newspaper, he glanced it over before glancing at a few other people who were coming around to buy the latest issue. He looked at his own and sighed, before opening the piece he wanted, loudly ripping it out as he heard the other talking about whatever seemed to be on their mind at that moment. Slowing down his ripping till he pauses, Bryn raised his eyebrows. Then looked away, recalling the other known incidents that had happened in the last year, βIt's a terrible waste of life.β He mumbled before flicking out the article he had torn from his own newspaper, eying it then moving to put the rest of the newspaper in a nearby trashcan. The other went on during that time, and he couldn't help but listen. Pulling his journal out, which had been tucked under his left arm, he opened it up to a scribbled-on page, placing the article onto the page neatly he closed it once again. Bryn offered a grin then as he had heard the question, βMe? Oh. I think it was the Shadow People.β Nodding his head at this, βWhat else could explain the mystery of this exactly. Hat Man. Horrifying cryptids of the night.β
Kael made no comment on what his company was doing. He didn't even cast a glance towards the torn-up paper or the journal. That was someone else's business and Kael cared little for it. He could be nosy when he wanted. In fact, his curiosity had caued him trouble several times in the distant past. But, at least for now, he had enough shit on his plate without having to worry about the seemingly inoccuous actions of a stranger. "Eh, I prefer not to measure life by things like wastefulness, usefulness, whatever else," he sighed. "Same thing when people say someone didn't deserve to die. I mean, who the fuck are we to decide who does and doesn't deservβ" He cut himself off here. That was a personal grievance, not something he felt like getting into with a stranger. As for this guy's answer, Kael could not help but click his tongue in irritation. It was not that Kael had a foul temper or even that he had a particular short fuse, but he had always lacked patience. "Shadow people? Seriously?" he said, incredulous. Still, if he had to have this conversation, he'd at least play along. "Never heard of them posing a physical threat. No need to go ascribing shit like this to mysterious entities when human beings are bad enough on their own." (There was blood on his own hands after all. So much of it. He hadn't know anything, he'd only done what he was told, but he'd never wash that off.)
unspecified newsstand on a main street, 22nd january / @anchoragestarters
Anchorage was a remarkable town, in that nothing was ever the same, some new bullshit occuring on a regular basis, and yet nothing ever fucking changed either. The news of murder should have likely shaken Kael more than it did but being raised in that particular way, of having been designed and shaped to be as ruthless as any human could, had a way of numbing one's senses; true, he found needless death abhorrent and the role he'd played in the deaths of others haunted him, hanging forever over his head like a great dark cloud, but it had also instilled in him a certain understand that sometimes people die and sometimes, although less often, people are killed.
The papers had already announced it. The televised news had already made a show of it. It was funny how quickly everything became a phenomenon. But Anchorage had a limited attention span; as Kael's eyes scanned the shelves of the newsstand, he couldn't help but think that it wasn't just Anchorage, though. It was humanity as a whole. The world didn't stop or slow down for death. Just as his old friend had died without fanfare, so too would the victims of this town.
"So, how many's that now?" he asked, casually thumbing through the newspaper he'd slipped from the stand. "Headlines about some mysterious death, I mean. In the last year or so." Of course, he wasn't asking about the numbers of deaths total, unreported incidents included, because he knew fine well that was a number beyond counting. "Kinda pisses me off, actually. Makes you wonder, too, why anyone doesn't just skip town. Least, out of the people who can afford it anyway." He cocked his head back, expression softening, gaze inscrutable. "So, what do you think happened here?"
"That makes two of us," Cyrek's lopsided grin made an appearance, though he'd taken up enough time in Alaska that he was more customary to the differences, "Not that into chocolates. Stell will probably inhale this shite and call it the parent tax, though." Considering the haul was fortuitously overflowing past the halfway mark of all their buckets, his three older girls would have an excess of it to go around and enough for a stomach ache by the end of the evening. He and Kael seemed to gravitate to being on the same wavelength, even if he arguably met the former mercenary through his ex-partner; their largest disparity was that the frontperson was practically incapable of obfuscating his big emotions. In a punk band, Kael's aplomb ( even if he was not so inwardly ) balanced out any probable strife. ( They were, perhaps, less of a good influence on one another outside said setting, if the incorrigible partner-in-crime duo their kids had espoused was any indication. )
Speaking of kids, no surprises that theirs were lacking self-awareness. Raising an eyebrow at his best friend when they turned back to one another's company, mismatched eyes keeping tabs on the girls out of his peripheral, he shook his head and remarked, "Girls. Still think it'd be worse if I had boys." And he hoped to fucking God that any he produced with Stella weren't sons, still. Call him a bit of a sap for his bias, as each of the four had him wrapped around their little fingers, but he wasn't sure he could adapt after only raising one of them β and at childhood, Astarion was as malleable as his siblings, no streaks of incalcitrant nature or an abyssal well of energy that he'd never see the bottom of. He'd probably watched their lead guitarist's son run circles on his little legs around the stage making airplane noises about a dozen or more times before he told Crash to give it a rest. Soomi's only problem at two years old was eating everything around her, including inedible displays ( which did persist through year four, and earned him a couple awkward emergency room visits with Stella. )
"Hey, Mojo Jojo seems dead pleased with her costume, at least. Worth it in the end, innit?" Cyrek's ribbing was harmless, evidenced by the smile sloping to a knowing smirk. In their financial position, quibbles were a greyed-out option; the vicious cycle he'd been penned into his entire life earned him the skills of mending clothes and attentively following his avo's instruction to fashion his own. "I think you could've pulled somethin' out of the closet and spun the wheel on any weepy goth character and said that's you. Kids believe anythin'. Eric Draven? She probably don't know what The Crow is yet." A hand flicked out, creating a vague gesticulation over Kael's current attire, once he had the pink cat in his arms. The pull of his mouth to one side as he scrutinized his bassist holding onto it was evanescent. "Good enough. Hey, what are you lookin' at? Is there someone hot over there?"
The punk's head turned, his right side facing the crowded photobooth now as his eyes scanned the patrons in line. It was a fruitless endeavor. Sure, he could objectively descry attractive people out of a crowd, but he'd found he had no interest of any kind once he'd started kissing Stella in a way that was less than platonic and brimming with covert affections. Plenty of relationships kept their wandering eyes, and once he'd had her, he couldn't understand the point. Inevitably, his eyes plucked her out among her friends, and he swayed to one side, trying to capture the attention of her eyes long enough to wink at her β there was frustration etched into her expression and disappointingly, she didn't notice him. He could've waved an arm to expend extra effort to flag her down, but in the nick of time, Kael's voice oozed into his reverie and he looked back, blinking innocuously.
"Right," he agreed coolly, the tone of voice carrying no shame even though it would have gotten him in a lick of trouble on several occasions for being a stricken fool, and he groaned at the thought of wrangling four already hyperactive girls into sitting still for a confection that was chocolate-on-chocolate, "S'probably gonna be a while yet, you think?" There was still a beastly crowd surrounding the poor attendant when he glanced to the Witch's Brew, sniffling and wrinkling his nose then. "Hay? I don't smell anythin'." Okay, the point could be made that he rarely smelled anything, as it were. If the scent were overpowering, it wasn't cutting through the layers of dead nerves in his brain to process it. The punk vocalist's posture deflated mildly, before brightening seconds later with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Okay, but last one to say trick-or-treat's gotta drive our equipment up t' the gig in Fairbanks next week." An outstretched hand smacked against the bassist's shoulder, falling into step with him and trailing toward the bonfire. "I think I'm gonna angle for a couple gigs in Canada next year. You good with it? The album's on the cuttin' floor, it'll be done soon. Think we can go a couple tours now that the Bastards aren't about to burn all our money."
"In that case, I'll dump all my excess on you and Stella can deal with it," said Kael, with a catlike grin. "Sure as fuck ain't letting Hana keep it all, 'cause one, she doesn't need all that sugar and two, she's just gonna forget about it and, five months now, I'll be the one raking old sweets out from under her bed." As much as he liked to complain, Kael was often grateful for the extra work afforded to him by parenthood. He'd never been able to sit still doing nothing for very long and, although he'd been accused of biting off more than he could chew and running himself ragged, he'd rather work himself to death than be left to his own devices. As a youth, he'd had a strict sense of schedule effectively beaten into him, to the extent that he'd never once considered himself someone who might struggle with the concept of time, but as soon as he secured a life of freedom for himself, the train careened right off the rails, crashing and burning in the coarsing waves of the river below.
"Girls or boys, makes no difference to me, I'm pretty convinced Hana would be the same either way," Kael sighed. Maybe that was just because she reminded him of himself at that age...or, maybe, she reminded him of the version of himself he'd only seen through stolen memories; he wasn't sure if it provided much comfort that even a version of him raised outside of the cruel facilities of the Scarlet Nightmare struggled to understand his place in everything. Kael had heard stories of miroirs who resembled their originals in looks alone, their personalities worlds apart from anything recognisable, but he'd gotten the impression he had an awful lot in common with poor old Hyunjin Kang. "Actually, maybe you've got a point. I don't think I was ever, like, a standard boy growing up so that's way out of my realm of expertise.
Worth it in the end, innit? Kael's only response was to lift his right hand, left hand gripping his wrist, and flex it a few times, as though working out a crack in his joints. A silent way of saying, 'that shit just about gave me carpal tunnel syndrome'. This was, of course, an exaggeration and, besides, if he was going to get wrist issues from anything, it was from playing the fucking bass. "Eric Draven? Well, the theme's cartoons and I've never read the comic. Wouldn't want to be a poser." What comics did he read? He'd been working through a shit ton of Junji Ito lately. He could probably pull off a pretty decent Intersection Bishounen without trying too hard, even if willingly choosing a costume with 'pretty boy' in the name felt like too bold a choice.
Cyrek's question went unanswered, tossed aside by Kael's desperate attempts to change the subject and get him out of here. Sure, it was Kael's sincere hope that, if Cyrek found anyone hot, it was the exact person Kael had been looking at BUT there was no fucking time for that. "Quit it with the googoo eyes, loverboy," said Kael, impatiently, as he tugged Cyrek away from Stella's line of sight. This may have seemed like something of a rash move but, as a matter of fact, the fact Kael hadn't just yanked Cyrek away was a sign of great self-restraint, thank you very much. "And it smells of hay. Not my fault if your nose is fucked up," he added, having now clearly used up the last of that same self-restraint and having jump straight from making vague excuses to lying outright. Although he didn't make a great habit of it, Kael was a good liar and often convincing enough that even his stupidest, weakest lies had helped him to wriggle out of trouble.
As they passed the bonfire, his eyes washed over the group of kids for a moment, just long enough to make sure they weren't doing anything stupid in the face of open flames. (Somehow, the weight of this responsibility was the one thing snubbing out his own urge to whip out a cigarette and see if he could light it off the bonfire without burning his own fingers.) "I ain't saying trick-or-treat first or last," said Kael, narrowly avoiding having tripped over his own feet from the surprise of Cyrek clapping his shoulder, "Because I ain't saying it." And then, he raised his hands up as if in defeat. "I'll take the equipment but you better provide the vehicle. All I've got is the bike."
He made no effort to mask the grimace sparked by the mention of the Bastards burning money. Kael often thought that he must have joined the gang at the worst possible time and that, maybe, he'd been afflicted with some sort of strange curse where nothing was ever meant to go easily for him, possibly as a trade-off for the fact he hadn't been taken out by some Shadow. Maybe it was the punishment he got for surviving the hit that killed his old friend, for allowing him to take a bullet to the throat that was supposed to have blown Kael's brains out. He'd been pulled in by Cyrek right as the gang had fallen victim to their own ranks funneling money (something about which he was still pretty furious and ultimately the thing that pushed him to get another job, just in case) and getting implicated in crimes they didn't commit. A total fucking mess, by any measurements. At least now, it seemed as though things had calmed down somewhat.
"Works for me," he said, with a shrug. "Gotta check with work first but it's Dabin so all I've really got to do is tell him I'll leave his sorry arse behind next time he fucks up on a ride. Fair deal, innit?" He paused for a moment, letting out a shallow sigh. The kids were still bounding on ahead and Kael was grateful for that. Kept him looking back over his shoulder all the time. And he hated doing that, made him feel like he was being pursued. Fuck knew he'd had enough of that for one lifetime. "Y'know, I've never been to Canada," he said, wistfully. "Least I don't think I have. Not just as a regular person before, anyway." Cyrek knew what that meant, it didn't need elaborated upon out loud. "I think I need a break from this plac...but, still, make sure you book us enough dates. Me and free time don't mesh all that well." Another pause, he fought the urge to start fidgeting with...his hair, his earrings, anything. "Think we're gonna have to find a new place to practice? The mansion feels a little unappealing after...y'know."
Of course, Saylor was made aware of the fact that those existed whom spited her for something that she couldn't preventβher abundant wealth. She knew she was in the minority, the 'one percent,' as most deemed it, however, she couldn't intervene in her parents' finances in her previous life, nor could she simply deny the privileges bestowed upon her by her current employers that kept her adequately fed and housed. One could argue that it was her unpleasant disposition that set others off, but could she be blamed? She had endured a full work day, only complaining in between rushes of customers, likely the same as the stranger whose papers sullied her hard-earned meal. Still, she acknowledged the fact that he likely would not afford her the grace most people would give to those with whom they shared a cramped social class.
"You made it your problem when you did a piss poor job at keeping your shit together," the red head was quick at a rebuttal, her words dripping in thick strings of venom. Besides, it only landed on one of 'em. Oh, her blood was lit aflame, and she could feel each individual vein sear underneath her normally thick-grown skin. In lieu of such a exhausting day, though? She was more unpredictable than normal. "Won't kill you either to shill out a couple bucks to compensate me. 'A few sheets of paper ain't gonna kill you.'" she echoed his earlier statement, mimicking the smile he wore with the same expression that offered no warmth.
"Yeah, alright, whatever," said Kael, running his fingers through his hair, nails scratching at the back of his head. This seemed to be his body's natural response to frustration most of the time, even in spite of the fact he was usually quite meticulous about how he kept his hair. The reply itself was as dismissive as intended. A piss poor job at keeping his shit together wasn't exactly the kind of accusation with which he could argue with but, because there was little use in fighting simple reality, the words bounced right off his shoulders as he shrugged them. Having an argument about tacos was not on the list of shit he had time for today.
Kael frowned down at the tacos once more, eyes narrowing. If this had been a more amicable encounter, he might have even find the humour in her parroting his own words back at him but, for now, he was mostly just focused on figuring out to wriggle his way out of paying for anything. "Look, I'd love to chip in but I don't actually have any money on me," Kael said, lying. "Lost my wallet. Lost all my papers. Having a horrible day all around so cut me some slack." Something about telling outright lies felt a little low, even for Kael, but sometimes the cheapest tricks were the ones that worked. (Whether or not that'd be true today was a different question.)
