ache

i was raised feral and i mostly stayed that way

[solah9]

sophosed​:

 “hey,” he hums when sol is close enough to him from across the counter. “i’d want my wallet back, but you seem like you might need it more than me, albeit empty.” his words are lined with mirth. “let’s say, i commanded the man commissioning you. do you know where this is going, ahn yisol?” his eyes flicker to the man, then his own shot. empty. he tilts his head sideways, gaze a burning question despite the overall apathy.

By the time he spots him, there’s condensation dripping down his glass. Sol’s managed to pace himself, only half gone. There’s a neat little pile next to him, a skinny wallet and then a watch stacked on top. Neither are his. If this were a real mark, or a real job, then he’d have been either in a pawn shop or back at the doorstep of whoever wanted another man’s watch in the first place. But it’s not a real job. So fake that Sol had decided to have a little fun with it. It’s not like Sophos was a name hidden and out of sight, a faceless mystery wandering around the dark. Not for Sol, anyway. It wasn’t too bad of a job either, but that could come down to Sol being able to pickpocket in his sleep by now, for as long as he’s been doing it.

Eventually though, Sophos sees him, and then Sol sees him right back. Presses the flat of his palm over his spoils and pulls them along for the journey halfway down the bar. “I don’t need much of anything, but if you’re willing to let your money walk free then who am I to turn it away?” it’s real leather as far as he can figure, he bets he can get a good resale price on it. The watch, too. Instead of nudging them back to their owner he folds them into a pocket of his jacket.

“Let’s say?” the idea that it had been anything but that is a little funny in the moment, Sol even lets a laugh slip out. It’s mostly sarcastic, but that’s all the noise has room for.

“Where its going? I don’t know. I don’t drive your mind around.” He hooks a nearby stool with an ankle, gives himself enough room to slide onto. “I guess work.” that’s what Sol’s been hoping after, work. Sophos seems to have connections to the kind of big name jobs Sol’s after. The kind that pay a little more. Sol’s not so sophisticated, but he has drummed up a reputation for himself. Even if it is garish, lacking subtlety. Not everything needs to be subtle, though.

“Or an excuse for murder, but that seems a little short-sighted to even me.” he lifts a finger toward the bartender, looking for another drink to occupy himself with. Business talk is as boring as near anything, Sol’s always preferred the actual work of it.

[solah9]

—RED RUNNING.

Down a skinny alley and hunched over a body, ft. Bai ( @invrse​ ) TW: blood, death.

As far as Sol can figure, when escaping a body, a soul leaves the lungs last. Their eyes go flat, the mouth trembles, and then it sighs its way right out. A person doesn’t get used to that sound, but a whole of them pretend to. Just like Sol now, busy pretending it’s all fine because on the other end of this body there’s a paycheck waiting for him. That and another story to spread, to drape across his shoulders and wear in a banner of fear. Something vicious, well, he looks the part now.

He wasn’t careful about it, this job. He didn’t see the reason. A man who talked too much but mattered too little. Nobody came running when Sol led him away from the flash of city lights, those people clustered up loud and lively. Nobody probably cared what he sounded like either, in those last moments. What he said, or the noises he made. That strange and guttural gargle that the mouth spits out on the way; Sol takes it as goodbye. 

He could’ve died just like it once, and that’s the whole reason he’s here now. He wonders, though it darts through his mind quick as a minnow, if he should feel sorry about it. If he should see himself in this empty body of the nobody in front of him. 

The noise distracts him out of his own head first, feet scuffing down stone, but all Sol does is drag his eyes sideways. To see it all spread out, a man and a knife and too much blood, well not too many stick themselves down in place to watch it like a show. He’s not nervous, there’s no point in it. He gets found out, and then what? So far and all that’s come of it are the kinds of stories that make him sound bigger than he is, or half-human.

It’s the name attached to those feet that distracts him second. It’d be hard to tell it based off Sol’s disposition though, just takes his time trying to wipe off his knife with the fabric of his shirt wadded up near his elbow. “Didn’t take you for a vulture.” Sol knows well as anyone else that Bai’s not the type to come and try and steal a kill, claim it as their own. What he also knows is that the man’s got an ego so wide that assuming he might is equal enough to telling him to fuck off.

[quotemadness]

I demolish my bridges behind me- then there is no choice but to move forward.

Fridtjof Nansen (via quotemadness)