Schade Twins

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cityinmonochrome:

He lets her kiss him deeply and he tastes like heaven, she wants more. She nips at his tongue when he licks her and  gives him a little grin in return. She’s content to have more of his weight on her. It makes it feel a little more forced than it was, it puts her on the defensive.She likes the way he looks at her. He may not have killed a man for her, but he pulled her away from it when she couldn’t move, and that was a gift in it’s own right.  

It’s her turn to laugh at his deadpan joke, and it’s light and airy. Their kissing again and she cant help her hands loosening around his shirt and slowly moving down to the perfectness that s his ass. She squeezes and hums a bit. She still humming as she pulls his hips closer to her’s she wants to feel him, she’s so wanting right now that she can feel her heat growing for him. 

“A little too much I think.” He’s still so close when his hand moves to her throat and she tips her head back as much as she can. Ismay whimpers, feeling completely lost in him and his control over the situation. She whimpers again at his words. “Shit, fuck me. Take me upstairs, and fuck me”

He lets her pull and tug and squeeze as much as she wants. It all gets him those magic little words that he was waiting for. Dexter grins wolfishly at the sound of her voice, at the look on her face. This was why she was the Rose - She was the most beautiful of them all. He could get lost in her voice, her skin, her lips.

“Your wish is my command.” Dexter replies easily, letting go of her neck. He sweeps her up into his arms, bridal-style, and heads for the nearest stairwell so they can have some privacy in the comfort of her room. Her body feels light to him so his arms are strong and steady as he holds her close. He hums merrily, a grin never leaving his lips as he carries her upstairs, down a hallway, and right into her room. He lets them in without putting her down and kicks the door shut behind them.

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cityinmonochrome:

“Just a little. I didn’t notice it at first.” It wasn’t like she could identify what they smelled like, or how exactly they smelled different, but there was something. Sure she said they smelled differently, but they both smell so nice. She could breath in their scents for hours, she’s pretty certain that Dexter would be okay with that. 

She loves the way he laughs. It just sounds so pure, like there was nothing hat could crush the joy in it. Ismay doesn’t want to cave to Dexter’s desires because she knows his kind, she knows what he wants and shes certain that her actions of she acted would hurt Dorian. Dexter is just so charming and his body is so magnetic. 

When he takes her chin she looks him dead in the eyes, her heart pounding in her chest.She doesn’t answer right away and she wouldn’t have been able to because he steals a little kiss. That breaks her down. She cant hear his little hum, she can only hear moan, trapped by their kiss. Dexter pulls away and she tries to get herself back in order, is doesn’t work. The next thing she knows is her fists are balled in his shirt around his middle and she’s kissing him this time but it’s not so chased, as her tongue works to meet his. “Shit, look what you made me do.” Her voice is airy, but she doesn’t sound mad just hot.

He goes with her pull easily, opening his mouth to accept her kiss. Dexter can’t stop smiling through it as he tastes her, taking his time to slide his tongue over hers. He’s content to kiss but she pulls out of it first, not letting him go anywhere. Not that he wants to. He reaches up to brace a hand against the wall so that he’s not putting his full weight on her, looking down at her and still smirking.

“Oh goodness me. I am so sorry.” He deadpans, dipping in for another round. He licks into her mouth, sucks on her lower lip. Dexter groans freely into her mouth and wants to buck against her like an animal but refrains. He can be a gentleman. He can wait until he’s invited upstairs. Maybe.

“Thorny little Rose, pretty little thing who likes trouble.” He murmurs against her mouth. His free hand cups her slender neck, thumb pressing against the corner of her jaw. “I want you. Will you let me have you?”

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cityinmonochrome:

It was so hard for Ismay to figure out an answer to that question. What did she see that was different between the two of them? She couldn’t think of anything other than just how they made her feel. She’s trying to keep her breathing even, which is hard because of how close Dexter is, and how he calls her beautiful.      “I - I don’t know what it is. You’re just different than each other. You have very different auras….and smells.” That last part surprises her, but it was oddly true. 

He presses close to her and Ismay takes a step back, until she’s pined between the door frame and Dexter’s strong body. He’s so warm that she just wants to melt into him. He doesn’t stop there though, he moves her hands and she can feel his muscled sides through his shirt. She remembers clearly what it was like to have his body on her’s. He wasn’t her favourite Shade brother but she had fest special, and safe, and so blindingly good. So good in fact that she’s almost considering taking this opportunity. But, he wasn’t Dorian. 

“You’re always up to no good.” Her vice is breathy. She wondering if she can go about convincing herself that he’s actually Dorian? But it would feel so wrong to be with Dexter, yet, who knows if she even stood a chance with is brother at this point. Ismay is desperately trying not to move her hands on his sides, to not give him encouragement. 

“Do we? Smell different, I mean. Interesting.” Dexter’s voice is amused. He never thought about the fact that they might smell different. Whenever he’s by his brother, all Dexter can smell is the tangy ozone of sharpening fluid and maybe soap. He doesn’t use anything special himself, maybe a cologne on a special occasion. Men like them don’t go looking for signature scents -- It doesn’t do well when you’re trying to blend in and be faceless.

He chuckles and lets his head fall back, taking a deep breath and letting it out into a sigh. She wasn’t taking his bait. He’d never had this much trouble getting a woman’s attention before. Whenever Dexter wanted someone, he got them. Whether it be their attention, their body, or their life, Dexter wanted for nothing. Maybe that’s why Ismay intrigued him so much. She put up such a good fight and all because she held a candle for dull old Dorian. Didn’t she know that he was so much more fun? What did Dorian have that he didn’t?

He lets go of one of her hands to take her chin between his fingers, looking into her eyes. “Of course. Where’s the fun in walking between the lines?” Dexter leans in a steal a chaste kiss, humming his approval. “Let’s go get into some trouble, huh?” His brown eyes twinkle with mischief, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

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cityinmonochrome:

He laughs and something immediately relaxes in her. Ismay shakes her head at him fluffing his hair to how it usually is. “Such dedication and you didn’t even fool me.What exactly were you trying to achieve?” 

Next thing she knows they are but inches apart and he’s gripping her hips. God how she wants Dorian to hold her like this. She closes her eyes when he leans in close to her neck and tries to keep her cool. “What makes you ask that? We’re - we’re not that close.” she tries to defend herself but her voice breaks a little, and yet it was true she and Dorian wern’t that close, not as close as she would have liked. Yet here she was in close quarters yet again with the one Schade brother she had slept with. She puts her hands on his arms, she’s not pushing him away, but she’s also not pulling him closer. “What are you doing?” Her voice is small and breathy, as she tries to stop herself from imagining that this really was Dorian in front of her. 

“See, that’s the thing...” Dexter murmurs into her ear, lips hovering just far away enough not to touch. He wants to kiss her and never stop. “...I can fool just about anyone. What do you know about my brother to where you can tell us apart? Nobody has ever been able to do that, beautiful.” Maybe their parents before they were killed but neither Dorian or Dexter can remember that far back. As far as they know, they were born into darkness from darkness itself.

He ignores her hands on his arms and rubs circles on her hips with his thumbs. Dexter bites on his lower lip and lets it slide through his teeth. He’s fuming on the inside that Dorian might have her affection but they aren’t an item so he’s still got a chance to win her. He’s tactile where his brother is not. She might prefer that. He presses his body close, warm and strong, and finally shifts his hands to guide hers to touch him. He directs them under his suit jacket to his sides, his back, willing her to remember what it was like to feel those muscles moving when he’d bought her time.

“Why bother asking when you know I’m up to no good.” He leans his forehead against hers and almost dips in close enough for a kiss, but not quite. 

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WOW ❤

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cityinmonochrome:

There is no way on earth that Dorian would have not said something. Sure he was all for work place professionalism and not letting personal feelings collide at work, but he would have at least had some remark. She watches him try and squeeze past her and she just sighs. 

“Dexter, what are you doing? Why are you carrying on like this?” She was talking to one half of the Crow, and honestly, she wasn’t upset anymore. She just misses Dorian. He’s just so constant and consistent. She has the perfect opportunity, but she’s afraid to ask how Dorian is doing.

Instead of being upset that the jig is up, Dexter just smiles wide and barks out a laugh. 

“Aw, how did you know it was me?” He questions, taking off Dorian’s glasses and tucking them into his inner jacket pocket. He reaches up and ruffles his own hair into a style that more suits him. “I even got my hair cut and everything. Did I not have enough of a stick up my butt, or what?”

There’s no use trying to lie to her any more. She obviously knows how to tell them apart, probably the only person alive besides themselves. It makes Dexter curious. Instead of trying to avoid touching her, he sidles up really close and presses his hands to her hips, gripping firmly. He ducks his head down to smell just behind her ear where he knows her perfume will be the strongest.

“Or are you and Dorian closer than just work place associates, Thorny Rose?”

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cityinmonochrome:

Of course it hadn’t taken long for the news to get to Ismay that Dorian was back at work. It hadn’t taken long for her to find out that a patron had his wrist broken. At first she assumed that It really was Dorian and that the broken wrist was just a product of him being upset about their fight. 

She gets the normal smile, none of the coldness she would have assumed, and none of the bitterness, and yet his mannerisms are correct. “That’s decent of you, especially since it’s not like I fired you.” It’s her turn to tilt her head a little. With the corners of her lips curled up a little she says. “I suppose you could call them differences, even creative differences.” 

This is where Dexter couldn’t fill in the details. He knew that Dexter and Ismay were having a tiff. He didn’t know exactly why. Not wanting to try and complicate the issue, he just flashes one of those Dorian-style polite grins and tries to step past Ismay to get back into the Garden a little more fully.

“Yes. I’m very fortunate to still have my employment here despite our creative differences. If you’ll excuse me, I need to do my rounds.” Dexter would normally have touched Ismay on the arm and slid past her but he knows Dorian is not so tactile. He presses up against the wall and tries to edge around her, cane tap dragging softly on the ground.

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cityinmonochrome:

Ismay felt terrible about how things were left between her and Dorian. She hadn’t meant to push him away, she had only needed time to work it out in her head. She needed time to come to terms with the fact that she has feelings for the man who was the Crow. It had been days since she’d seen Dorian and he hadn’t been showing up at work, which was upsetting to Ismay. 

The Flowers were all in a strange state of fearful happiness. They couldn’t be too happy for fear of looking like they were happy the Gardener bled to death, yet their wages were better and the rules about how they could be treated were being revised to their favour. Ismay was helping them more that the Gardener ever had, and they were all still worried that their new boss might be the next target. Ismay has been trying to calm them and reassure them that she wasn’t next on the list, but it was hard. It was also hard because they had no one to escort them home after their shift. 

Then, just like that Ismay starts to hear buzzings that Dorian was back at work. She had better things to do but she waits at the back door where Dorian came in after taking someone home. She sits and waits listening for the cane tapping, looking for a long shaddow to appear on the brick sides of her building. eventually they come and it’s not right. maybe she was just seeing things. Maybe it’s just the shaddow that’s making his strides have more spring. That must be it.Doran moves closer and Ismay scrutinises him. 

“Evening. I haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?” She’d see if Dexter would out himself or not. 

Dorian was in a sad state since his little tiff with Ismay. Dexter didn’t know too many of the details but he could infer that something more had been happening between his twin and his crush than what Dorian had ever let on. Sneaky, sneaky. While Dorian moped around at home, eating practically everything in reach and listening to sad radio plays, Dexter was restless. He wanted something fun to do, so what better than stretching out muscles he hadn’t used in awhile and pretending to be his sad sack of crap brother?

He’d already escorted a couple Flowers home and so far, so good. He’s also broken up a bar fight and perhaps given a broken limb when it wasn’t really needed but hey, he wasn’t trying to channel Dorian and his strange sense of justice. Just impersonate the man.

Unaware that he’d have somebody waiting for him back at the Garden, Dexter hasn’t been the most vigilant in mimicking Dorian’s strides. When she speaks, he merely quirks the corners of his mouth in a small, polite smile.

“As well as can be expected.” Dexter copies his brother’s usual tone, his way of holding himself so unnaturally still. He tilts his head ever so slightly. “I figured I’d try coming back to work. The Flowers shouldn’t suffer just because you and I are having.... Differences.”

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Corvus

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cityinmonochrome:

He lectures her on the ways of the Crow and how he did business. Ismay want’s to call the whole thing to a halt, but she stands there angry with him. Her jaw is clenched and her breathing a little heavy. It’s a shame he can’ see her expression because it might have caused him to second guess whether or not he should have said what he had. How could she have known that every person the Crow had ever assassinated was terrible? The news paper only provided so much information. To tell her that no one in this world is pure though? How could he? He knew what she did for a living. It wasn’t the most savoury of occupations according to some. 

It’s his last words that really set off her anger. It’s her quiet dangerous anger that Dorian might not have experienced yet. Her voice is steady as she speaks. “No. No, you do not get to do that to me. You do not get to tell me I’m not ready, to know.” She strides up to his shoulder feeling bold. “What reaction were you expecting? I could have screamed, called you a monster and told you I never want to see you again. I could have, but it would’t be true. I just found out that the person behind the mask I’ve been fearing is a man that I know, and trust. I’m grateful for what you did for me, I am, truly. But don’t get angry with me when I don’t react the way you’d thought.”

He slides away from her like water when she tries to get close. He can hear her footsteps, her breath. Dorian closes his eyes and when he concentrates past her words, he can hear how quickly her heart is beating. He doesn’t want her to try and touch him.

“Maybe you should have. It might have been easier.” He’s upset, she’s upset. Dorian’s never dealt with this type of thing before. He’s never felt this way about a person save for once and that ended very, very badly. The choice he’s made to tell Ismay about the Crow might have been the wrong move. He should have scoped her out first, should have eased the blow. 

Moving surely and swiftly, Dorian slips out the window and onto the ledge of the building. With quiet feet, he shuffles to the right, then jumps. He lands on the roof of the building next door and doesn’t look back as he leaves the Garden behind, no cane to aid him.

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Corvus

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cityinmonochrome:

Ismay doesn’t like the metallic sound the mask gives his voice. It doesn’t sound like him. she doesn’t acknowledge his proffered excuses. She’s slightly horrified at how much his sureness in the Crow costume makes her feel better. He has no cane and he’s perfectly still like he had been on the couch the first time they’d met. 

His question has her cough on her tears and nearly immediately she’s fuming. “Had I done it my way I would know exactly what the intentions were. I wouldn’t have thought I was the next target.” She covers her face with her hands and breaths into them for a moment, trying not to shout at him. Her voice is hard when she speaks again. “Sure, I wanted this to happen, but what about all the other things the Crow has done? Everyone has got to make their living somehow, but,” she shakes her head in disbelief, “but some of them were just people.”

What she says last makes him turn and take a step towards her. His milked-over eyes reflect the light in the room, making them stand out behind the mask. 

“None of them were just ‘people.’” He hisses at her. “The Crow has always stayed clear of politics so none of the marks were as innocent as the papers may have made them seem. Nobody in this world in pure. Everyone has skeletons and sometimes those skeletons are horrible enough to make victims want retribution. Don’t pretend to sit on your high horse when you contemplated murder, yourself, May Day.”

“You think you know me, but you don’t.” He grinds out. “I was willing to share my truths with you, but you aren’t ready.” Dorian turns to the window again, shoulders stiff with tension.

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Corvus

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cityinmonochrome:

She hasn’t moved since she backed herself against the door. She remains motionless as he lets her go and starts to pick up all the knives he’s dropped. She would never have guessed that he was blind from watching him. Ismay had watched him run his hands through his hair, hair she wants to run her own fingers through. She watches him move towards the open window and she finally moves. 

Taking one step forward, then another, and another until she’s standing in the middle of the room. “Wait. I can’t leave the flowers without their escort. I can’t do that to them. They don’t know they’re safe from the Crow, I can’t push them all back into fear.” She knew what that felt like. “Forget what I said, please. People will wonder why you’re not at work and I don’t want to have to come up with an excuse.” She takes a few deep breaths, while her heart pounds in her chest. “I’m scared without you, and I’m scared of how much I still want you. I was getting very near the end of my rope, I - I was going to do it myself that night.” She doesn’t want to cry like this in front of Drain but her tears come anyway. This had been a highly emotional few weeks and this was the first time shed cried through that entire time. 

From her reaction to his reveal, he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to believe that she still wanted him. Fear won out in most people and he knew how much fear she had in her heart. Dorian stops when she speaks and turns his head to show that he’s listening to her. 

“You could tell them I’m on vacation or sabbatical.” His voice is different from behind the mask, a lot more muted and quiet. It resonates in a strange way. If anyone were to ever hear it and live, it could be the stuff of nightmares.

The Crow costume is a second skin to Dorian and it feels good to let himself be unnaturally still. He doesn’t feel the need to put on twitches or ticks, doesn’t feel like he has to pretend to be ‘normal.’ He feels more at home in the mask and cloak than in a suit but he’d never admit that to anyone, not even Dexter.

Dorian can hear her voice get watery and the impulse strikes to turn around and embrace her. He stays still. “How very fortunate that you didn’t need to get your own hands dirty. Would you have been able to look at yourself in the mirror?” He’s a little bitter. She doesn’t want to see him because of what he’s done but she has been plotting murder herself? 

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Corvus

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cityinmonochrome:

She doesn’t want an apology, not really. She wants him and she wants to feel safe again. That’s what he was offering her, she would never have to fear an individual ever again. It’s such a tempting offer. Yet she can’t refuse. It was such a Gardener thing to do, take out anyone and everyone who opposed you. He takes up her shaking hands in his strong steady ones. 

Ismay dosen’t really like that he’s touching her with his gloves on. They had the Gardener’s blood on them. “No. I won’t ask you to kill. I…I can’t. I never want to see you-” her voice cracks and she clears her throat before continuing. “I never want to see you dressed like this again. And next time you touch me you won’t be hearing gloves that touched blood, the Gardener’s blood. He’s gone I want no piece of him left in my life.”

“I can’t sent you away, but I can’t look at you now and only see the man I trusted. Everytime I close my eyes I can see him hanging and hear him - dripping.” Just saying it makes her feel a little sick, and now she knows who did it. “I can’t see you for a while, I can’t. I need more time, I need separation.”

“Right. Okay.” Dorian lets go of her and takes a step back. He reaches up to smooth his messy hair back. Even though he can’t see, he knows exactly how many knives he’s taken off and exactly where they are. It’s quick work picking them up and strapping them back on. He’s done it too many times to count. He he slips on his bracers, his jaw clenches. He faces away from Ismay, face focused down even though his eyes aren’t looking at anything in particular as he tightens the straps and buckles.

Out of all the reactions he’s been preparing himself for, this is not one that he had expected. He supposed he shouldn’t have thought in extremes. This was a very strange grey area. Was he supposed to come to work? No, if she didn’t want to see him, he definitely shouldn’t come to work. He didn’t know how long he was supposed to stay away from her, either. Would she contact him? He feared that distance would make her hate him more.

Maybe he could take the Queen up on her offer of a job if it still stood.

He slipped the metal mask back onto his face and flipped up the hood. Without a word, he turns to go. The window is still open and he intends to leave that way.

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Corvus

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cityinmonochrome:

His cheek is real, so the rest of him must be. This wasn’t a sick nightmare, this wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. Dorian’s stubble scratches on her smooth fingertips.This was real and she can’t believe it. 

“Oh.” She doesn’t know what to feel at the moment. She’s still scared, but she’s also so happy to know that she’s not next on the hit list. Though now Dorian’ story is also making her heart hurt for him and his brother, how terrible it must have been to have grown up with an assassin as a guardian. Ismay shakes her head and looks at the man in front of her who she’d grown so attached to, was he a different person now that she knew the truth? Could she still want him now that she knows that his hands are covered in blood? Her face is a mixture of sadness and hurt. 

“You wanted to help? I did see, I saw everything. It’s doesn’t matter how I felt about the man, you don’t forget seeing a thing like that. And you don’t get over all the sleepless nights it caused you when Jokers carefully tell you to keep an eye out because you might be next. You don’t get over something like this.I can’t help it, I’m still scared.” Her last few words are soft, scared that anything she said might be heard by someone other than Dorian.

“I won’t apologize for killing him, but I do apologize that you had to see it.” He doesn’t regret snuffing out the miserable life of the Gardener. The man had done reprehensible things to his own staff, to Ismay. He had been a dictator. He had skimmed off the wages of the Flowers so much that they barely had a living outside these walls. 

“This is an opportunity.” Dorian says, daring to reach down and delicately take Ismay’s wrists in his gloved hands. “I would never hurt you and I would never let anybody hurt you. I can’t take away the gruesome memory but I can pave a path to a safer future if you’ll let me. Any enemies you have? I’ll do away with them. Anybody raises a hand against you, I’ll get rid of them. I can be yours to command and I will more than happily take any order given.” His lower lip gets caught between his teeth and he worries at it for a moment.

“Just tell me.” He pleads softly. “I can even go away, far away. You’ll never see me again if that’s what you really want from me.”

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Corvus

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cityinmonochrome:

Her eyes dart around the room trying to come up with some way out, or some way to protect herself. He stands and touches his belt of knives and her heart starts thumping so loud it seems to echo in her ears. He’s getting closer and closer to her. This was all some part of his sick show where he taunted her and showed her all the things he could use to kill her, to slit her throat. 

She’s backed herself against the door, which she’d forgotten was behind her. She wants to scream, maybe Dorian would still be in the building, she’s not sure what he’d do against the Crow, but then she wouldn’t have to be alone. She wants to scream, but something makes her unable to. He’s closer now, and the sound of his blade makes her jump, but that gets discarded to the floor too. Then his hood comes down and Ismay is terrified and confused. The last piece of armour to come off is the mask. 

The sight of his bare face makes Ismay let out a strangled whimper. How could this be. She doesn’t know if she should feel horrified or relieved. She wants to collapse against him, but she’s still frozen in shock. “How? Why?” Is all she can manage to force out of her lips for a moment, then she reaches up to touch his cheek, to see if he was real. This could very well be a nightmare.

He leans into her touch just slightly, eyes fluttering. At least she isn’t screaming for security. He knows the other guys on the team wouldn’t have a chance in hell against him but it’s not nice to beat up your friends. Dorian takes a small breath and lets it out.

“Dexter and I were adopted by the man who was the original Crow. He trained us. When he died, we took up the name.” He answers, voice low. He swallows hard and wishes he could just see the expression on her face, just to know whether she’s looking at him in disgust or fear or.... anything. He wants to know. Facial expressions can say a lot and he doesn’t get those cues. All he can go on is her heartbeat and her voice.

“I killed the Gardener for you. I knew he... I wanted to help. I didn’t mean for you to see any of that. You weren’t supposed to and then you got scared for your life. You need to know that I’m not after it. I swear, Ismay, I was only trying to help.”

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Corvus

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cityinmonochrome:

It was all a blur. She remembers the sound, and the smell in the room when she had found the Gardener, hanging…dying. She remembers the sound of her scream and the silent flash of a person fleeing through a window. Though that last part could have been her imagination filling in the blanks with information from the Jokers. They were sure it was the Crow. 

She hadn’t ever felt so comforted to see Dexter as she had been when he pulled her out of the Gardener’s room and slammed the door. She was wracked with too many emotions at the same time for her to function. For a solid two weeks she got very little sleep, and she walked around in a bit of a daze. Eventually she realised that with the Garden in her hands, under her management it was up to her to do something about how the place was run. She worked her way out of her fear that the Crow would come for her and started to slowly make changes for the Flowers. 

She was feeling surprisingly good tonight as she headed to her office to lock up before going home. Stretching her shoulders a little she opens her office door and takes two steps in without really looking around. It was her space, why would there be any danger. Then her eyes notice there is something not quite right about the room. Turning slowly she sees him, sat there plain as day. She hadn’t imagined him. Ismay freezes. 

“Have you come to kill me then? Like the Jokers said could happen.” She sounds almost too calm in her own ears and it makes her upset. She had things to deal with and change for the better, but really, what was the point? She’d already lost Dorian. He had been nothing but professional since their diner. 

He says nothing as he stands, motion fluid and smooth. He reaches down to his belt and his gloved hands trail over his knives. He starts to approach Ismay and very carefully and deliberately unclips each sheath and lifts it to show her before he drops it to the floor. He stands before her as he triggers the mechanism in his right bracer and unleashes the deadly blade inside to show her, then he tucks it back into place carefully and pulls the piece of equipment off. It too gets dropped to the floor.

Dorian has never shared this secret with anyone before. The only other person who knew that Dexter, because he was trained in the same exact way Dorian had. They were two halves to a whole, two parts to an illusion. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he flipped the hood of his cloak down. He was mere inches away from Ismay as he reached up to undo the thin strap that kept the metal mask in place. He paused for a moment to take a quiet breath, then slid the mask back and dropped that to the floor as well.

He stood before her with his biggest secret, praying to any god that would listen that she wouldn’t scream at the sight of his face.

“I would never kill you.” He says hoarsely, useless eyes turned down to the ground. His hair is mussed and his stubble particularly unkempt. He has been dreading this moment.

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Corvus

Dorian hadn’t meant for her to see. He thought he had planned everything so immaculately, so perfectly. The Gardener was meant to be found hours later, hanging upside down from the rafters with his neck slit, his last Will and Testament positioned very clearly on his desk and not in the secret safe behind the portrait of a buxom lady that hung over his bed. That night, there had been a cancellation. That cancellation, which Dorian had not foreseen happening, had caused Ismay to open the door on a gurgling man hanging over a bucket of his own blood and the Crow himself leaning against a far wall and waiting for him to die.

Her screams had driven Dorian out the open window and into the darkness, his heart pumping in his throat. As he listened from the rooftop of a nearby building, Dexter had been the first one on the scene to pull Ismay out of the room. Fuck. He’d just given his brother an alibi. Fantastic. Growling to himself about being rusty, Dorian fled back home.

He waited through the wake, the Flowers and patrons of the Garden marching past a closed casket to a room of refreshment and somber music. He waited through the funeral; a rainy and dismal day. Dorian had stood by Ismay, holding an umbrella for her while his suit soaked through to his bones. He waited through the legal period wherein Ismay was appointed proprietor of the club and everything that came with it. He waited a week more, because he’d been scared and nervous on the inside.

After that, Dorian had decided that he couldn’t keep the secret. He needed to apologize. He needed to tell her because he knew that she feared for her life. Jokers had very wrongly speculated that the Crow might target her next and Dorian couldn’t watch her think that she would be the next victim of a murder that wouldn’t happen. He’d done it for her.

Wearing his full Crow regalia, Dorian sat in a chair in the middle of Ismay’s new office. His hood was up and his head was bowed as he held out his glove-covered palms to show that he had no weapons at the ready. The Crow’s outfit was meant to be darkness woven into fabric and leather, sturdy yet silent. Black metal bracers were strapped to his arms and black leather wrapped in layers around his waist, knife sheathes hooked securely to it. The matte black feathers of his shoulder epaulette even seemed to absorb any light around them. The only thing that gleamed was the smooth metal mask he wore over his face.

He waited patiently but not without a little anxiety. She needed to see him like this.

[cityinmonochrome-blog]

Dinner...date?

[schade-x2-blog]

cityinmonochrome:

She hates what he’s saying. His words make her heart break a little. No one had ever said no to her before, not like this. Ismay wants him so badly and he clearly wants her and yet he has the gall to stand before her and say it can’t happen.

“But? But what does Dexter have to do with this? I want you.” His hands drop away from her and she misses them immediately. “I’d rather live happily knowing I could die, than know I’m safe and be miserable.” She hadn’t let her arms down from where they are wrapped behind his head. “I haven’t wanted something this much in a very long time.”

She would have said more but she can hear their waiter calling for her in the street. In her rush to stop Dorian from leaving she’d forgotten her purse and her coat.

When he hears the waiter, it finally makes Dorian pull away completely. He wipes over his mouth with his hand and pulls her back onto the sidewalk. He nudges Ismay towards the direction of the restaurant. 

“People who die don’t have to see the consequence of leaving.” Dorian says softly to her. She might be happy to have her cake and eat it too, but Dorian isn’t ready for that. It’s not fair. He unfolds his cane and taps almost impatiently at the ground, a nerve in his jaw twitching as he clenches and unclenches it.

“Good-night, Ismay.” He says, finality in his tone. He’s not going to argue with her about this. “Thank you again for introducing me to this restaurant.” Polite, as ever, but he doesn’t think he’ll come here again any time soon. Not alone, at least. Not without her. He has to figure out what to do with his wants and emotions, first, among other things that need to be sorted.