the blood king

@sanguisrex

he to whom power is supreme to whom kith and kin are nothing shall find one day he stands alone with hunger in his heart smoke in his nostrils and his own blood upon his fingertips. it is this day which he fears like no other it is this day which he desires most.

78 posts

Sweet Nothings [Giovanni & Sarah]

"I would suspect he wouldn’t notice, considering my past behavior has gone unnoticed…" she said, and that was even more pathetic, that he couldn’t even be bothered to notice that she was going against him if she wasn’t doing it loud enough. She was so unimportant that she was no longer even on his radar.

She set down her sandwich, swallowing a bite before folding her hands on the tabletop. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, Mr. Macini… but you need to understand… I love my husband. I do… I’ve made some errors… I have misbehaved… but I do love George.”

Even if he doesn’t love you anymore? An unpleasant voice in the back of her head whispered, weakening her resolve.

"What do you want from me, Mr. Macini?" she asked, voice soft, fragile. "To play? I can’t imagine I’m of any other use to you."

Giovanni was amused by Sarah's reaction. Did she think he wanted to split her up from her husband or something? No, that was far too much work and too involved to boot. He wasn't concerned with Sarah's marital life; he was interested only in Sarah herself. She was a toy, certainly, but she was a damn interesting one.

"I don't give a shit about your husband, Sarah," he said frankly, leaning in toward her. "Whether he loves you, whether you love him, I couldn't care less. I'm interested in you." He paused for a long moment, considering. "I want to find out what that spark is that you're hiding from everyone, from yourself. I can see it in there somewhere, and I know you know it's there."

He smirked. "Curiosity isn't a crime, is it?"

Not that he'd ever had a problem with committing them.

"Tell you what: I'm going to give you some homework," he continued, pulling out his wallet and laying a few bills on the table, enough to cover lunch. "Between now and the next time I see you, go out. Do something daring, something you've wanted to do for a while but didn't. Misbehave."

He stood up, downing the rest of his coffee. When he was done he put it back on the table and met her gaze, mischief dancing in his on.

"If you don't do it... trust me, I'll know. Let that be your motivation."

With that he was gone, heading for the car with a renewed spring in his step. So began the next step of their grand game, whatever it was they were playing. He was eager to see how she interpreted daring, what she came up with.

He hoped she would be creative.

#sweet nothings

You certainly wouldn’t be the first to tie me up, if that’s what you’re looking for.

Not the first and not the last, I suspect.

So. Pricing. Convince me.

Heaven and Earth [Giovanni & Eddie]

A series of sensations:

The warm afternoon breeze on his face as he left his home. The leather seat against his back. The cool glass of the door to the police department pressing up to his palm. The hand of a newbie pressing forcibly into his bicep as he made his way toward Eddie Lincoln's office.

"Someone get the newbie under control before I break him," Giovanni said coolly, staring the boy in the eyes and feeling satisfied by the fear he saw there. Quietly one of his buddies pulled him away and Giovanni continued forward, feeling the eyes bore into his back as he passed.

It had been a while since he'd visited the police station. The ties that bound the Macini and the police together were largely invisible, unseen by the general populace; on rare occasions did he actually need to make an appearance.

However, this time it seemed necessary. So it was that he had left his house for the great unknown that was whatever this meeting would be, whether Lincoln cooperated with him or not.

He supposed he would soon see.

Opening the door to Eddie's office, he closed it behind him and gave the police chief a long look.

"You probably have an inkling of why I'm here," he began, and as he spoke he felt a thrill of anticipation run through his stomach.

This was only the beginning.

#heaven and earth #i told myself i'd keep it super short #i didn't #but it could be longer!!!!!!!!!#so there's that

Retribution [Giovanni & Armand]

Giovanni wished he had summoned Armand to drink and discuss women, as he usually did, but today his business was far more grave.

He had been stewing. And as he stewed, he had grown angrier. Luckily, his anger was always constructive: through it he was able to plan, to come up with some new scheme for revenge or progress or moneymaking, and the Macini always came out better for it.

After this disaster was over, however, he wasn't so sure the Macini would emerge unscathed.

Still, he needed to be rational about this, and though Armand wasn't exactly the man you called when you needed to keep a level head, he could always handle Giovanni's ire, and he needed that right now. And if he got a game plan out of it, well, that was just a bonus.

"I need your help," he said when Armand entered, settling on one of the couches in the sitting area of his office. He removed the top from a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass, leaving it open in case Armand wanted some (which he usually did).

Well, you seem more like a giver than a receiver, but men have surprised me in the past.

Perhaps they have. This man, however, will not.

Sweet Nothings [Giovanni & Sarah]

Sarah’s lips thinned. He was certainly right about that. “Being dead is more useful, I would suspect. At least a corpse inspires a sort of fire in people, be it grief or an urge for revenge or guilt… I find I don’t inspire much in anyone. Perhaps I never did.”

She picked up the sandwich, figuring she might as well eat it since he’d ordered it. She wasn’t hungry, but she hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and it wouldn’t do to go wasting away at this rate. George needed her to look pretty while he was running for office. Once that was done with, he probably wouldn’t care what she did with herself, but for now, image was everything.

"Still, I suppose we can’t all be as busy as you, Mr. Macini."

Giovanni felt satisfied that she began to eat what he had ordered for her. Whether it was out of fear or out of genuine hunger, he didn't know, but either way, he was pleased that she didn't at least refuse it on principle. He supposed this meant that, if he were decided to be an asshole (which he usually did), she now owed the mob a favor. He filed that bit of information away for later, knowing it would come in handy--at least as a persuasive tactic, if nothing else.

"You could," he said simply, taking another swig of the coffee. He sat back and regarded her coolly, putting his hands behind his head. He'd already finished his sandwich. "You said yourself that you've changed internally. What's stopping you from acting differently? I imagine your husband's hardly around these days, what with all the campaigning he's doing. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you were to misbehave."

#sweet nothings

Would you be giving or receiving this rough treatment?

What do you think?

#avec nat #ignore text heh

That depends on what you want.

Hmm, what do I want...

None of that fake romance bullshit. Discretion. Intelligent conversation when I want it and silence when I don't. A fondness for rough treatment.

Sweet Nothings [Giovanni & Sarah]

Sarah hadn’t come to eat— she’d only come for a cup of coffee and a chance to get away from the empty rooms of that godforsaken mansion she was always by herself in. She hadn’t come to have lunch with Giovanni Macini either, but, well, here he was, and she wasn’t brave enough to refuse him when she knew he could just as easily snap her neck if he wanted.

She didn’t look at him, still staring into her cup, thumb sliding up and down the porcelain of the mug, finding it easier to speak when she had something to focus on. “I haven’t done anything,” she said, and really wasn’t that statement so laughably pathetic? That was why she’d gotten into this mess in the first place. She never did anything, and when the opportunity presented itself, she couldn’t help but go along. She was so bored, so lonely. Perhaps it was a lack of control, but she felt like it was more complicated than that.

"The world has kept turning. Nothing’s really changed… I don’t feel the same, but I still act the same, so I suppose there’s no point in saying I’m different."

Giovanni listened to Sarah speak with a kind of veiled amusement, one eyebrow quirked. He wasn't surprised that she hadn't done much; she didn't seem like a woman of action, despite her position in the city. Hell, George had never been a man of action himself--he supposed uselessness bred uselessness.

"Nothing?" he echoed, trying his very hardest to sound shocked. "Nothing. What a concept. Here I am, running around like a madman and trying to keep this city from bursting open at the seams, and you're doing nothing."

The food arrived and he dug into his sandwich immediately. It was alright: generic, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the cook spit in his food (he had many enemies, that was certain), but good enough.

"It must be nice." His eyes narrowed as he studied her, a slow smile creeping up his lips. "But it isn't, is it? All that nothing. It's a little like being dead, 'cept you're still breathing."

#sweet nothings

Honey, I’ve been in this game longer than a lot of those other girls. They still get squeamish about certain things, think there are lines they don’t have to cross. Me? If you pay the right price, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll take care of you real good.

"Honey." It really is a fuckin' habit.

You pitch it like a born salesman. I can respect that. So you're offerin' me experience, desensitization, and a willingness to do the freaky stuff. Alright, you got me so far. Talk to me about pricing.

Sweet Nothings [Giovanni & Sarah]

Sarah felt like the ground dropped out from under her seat when Giovanni slipped into the seat across from her. It wasn’t like she’d thought him a figment of her lonely imagination, but she certainly hadn’t expected to see him again. Even the… encounter… they had had was pure chance, and since then she had felt it best to actively avoid him if need be from here on out.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t enjoyed it… That was part of the problem, really. She’d been too drunk to prevent it, really, and it had been fun. She hadn’t been touched in ages, and it had been nice to feel wanted, even if only for a moment. It was only in the sober light of day that she had felt the shame.

With him here, sitting across from the table, she could remember his hands on her thighs, and she didn’t know how she felt about it. Her stomach twisted into knots at his words, at his smirk, like he knew how it tore her up inside, like he enjoyed that.

Pressing her lips together, she stared down into her half-drunk coffee cup. “What do you want me to say? That I feel guilty? That I don’t?”

There was something about this damn woman.

His eyes searched her face hungrily, drinking it in, trying to reconcile the pervasive meekness as it mingled with the fire he had glimpsed in moments, choice moments; it was that fire which kept him coming back to her. He wondered if she knew that.

"Either is fine with me," he began, his eyes glinting with mischief, "as long as you admit that you lived."

His concentration on her face was broken by the arrival of a waitress, a prim-looking thing who took one look at his face and promptly looked like she would very, very much like to be elsewhere. Unfazed, he ordered himself a coffee (black as night and no doubt unsavory as only coffee at places like these could be) and sandwiches for both himself and Sarah, deciding on the spot that they were going to have lunch together. Sarah could cut him off short and end their date now, sure, but she wouldn't. He knew she wouldn't.

"So tell me, what has everyone's favorite mayor's wife been doing these days?" His coffee arrived and he didn't bother to thank the waitress as he took the mug, sipping with disinterest. "Not getting into trouble with anyone else, I hope."

#sweet nothings

Sweet Nothings [Giovanni & Sarah]

Giovanni was finding that, as of late, life had been full of surprises.

Today's surprise came in the form of a familiar head of brown hair, perfectly coiffed around a pretty face he knew all too well. It had been a few months since he had seen her last, but his memories of her had not dulled any: her porcelain skin beneath his fingers, her dark eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks, the short gasps issued from her lips.

Oh, he certainly remembered.

It was with these thoughts in mind that he approached her that day, having intended to eat a sandwich at the cafe alone but unable to resist the temptation of her as-of-now rigid form. Even if there was little else in their future physically, she still entertained him, and that was enough to keep him coming back.

"How does it feel," he murmured as he slid into the seat across from her, "to be an adulteress?" The smile that graced his lips then could only be described as a smirk. "Does the air around you feel different? Do respectable young women swerve out of your path as you pass? Do tell; I want to know. I'm starving for details."

#sweet nothings #heh

I would, but I suspect a man such as yourself can’t be persuaded to do anything if he doesn’t want to.

You're a wise woman.

But now you've got me curious. Hypothetically speaking, say I were--marginally interested. How would you convince me to pay you for your time when I could fuck another woman and pay her in the supposed status it brings?

Sorry, the pet names sort of have become a habit, I guess.

As for heads, in my line of work it’s usually not my head things are going to.

Fuckin' apparently. That usually work in your favor?

A whore. Should've known as much. I suppose now that you've got your foot in the door you're going to persuade me to take you to bed?

Thanks, sunshine.

You really know how to treat a girl.

Sunshine. Of all the fuckin' nicknames you could pull out of that brain of yours, you pick sunshine.

Points for relevance, I guess.

Yeah, yeah, get a girl wet and she'll say anything. Don't let it go to your head.

doctorgraceyoung-blog1-blog

Routine Check-Up || Grace & Giovanni

The heat was oppressive and it was only June. That had to be the worst part of it all. Humidity was perfectly fine when it was July or August, but in June, knowing that the summer would only get hotter and wetter, was unbearable. Any other year, Grace could have taken some time off, a week or so, to go to Michigan and to the lake, where at least it was less awful, but just given how things were this year, she guessed it would not be an option. The heat only seemed to make Chicago crazier, more prone to explode.

Grace rolled her sleeves up and unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse. Even that was not enough to cool her. Nothing, save for a swim or a shocking summer blizzard, would be enough to cool anyone. at least some people, she thought as she got to scrubbing her hands in hot water, could work in places that didn’t require constant cleaning and boiling, places that didn’t stink ever so slightly of death, not that she was complaining per say. Just… for one day, what she wouldn’t give to be someone else, a child eating an ice cream or a man not wearing a shirt.

She untucked her blouse, used it to wipe her face, just as the door opened.

Giovanni was having to explore his options and he didn't like it.

That was what brought him to the doorstep of one Dr. Young that day, studying the sign above her practice as he considered the situation. He had heard good things about her from those within his ranks, mainly, and now here he was, standing atop the recommendations of others to seek out her service.

It wasn't like he needed anything. Not yet. But his breathlessness had been getting worse lately and now he was forty, and he knew that sooner or later he was going to have trouble. Which would be all fine and dandy, except for the fact that he didn't trust his doctor anymore.

He didn't trust anyone anymore.

Not since what had happened concerning his sister in the last few weeks, anyway. He had always been fully aware that there were dissenters who might wish to do himself and his allies harm, but actual action against him beyond some poorly-planned assassination attempt was rare and typically unsuccessful. The success of Felicity's plan had left him concerned, to say the least, and now here he was, exploring... his... options.

That was the thought in his mind as he entered Dr. Young's office that day, leaning against the doorframe as she finished wiping her face.

"Would you consider yourself a discreet person, Dr. Young?" he said at length, studying her carefully.

#routine checkup

Ugh… It’s too hot.

You could fry an egg on the sidewalk.

Thought I'd take a walk and here I am, soaked through. Got a cup of ice from the diner--not like they'd fuckin' refuse. He offers her the cup, which is still half full of ice cubes. With his free hand he rubs one along his neck, eyeing her. Go ahead, it ain't gonna be cool much longer.

#avec nat #he's feelin generous today #heh

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