renegadepaladin's N7 paladin, Alexei!
RMH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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Xuebing Du
Misplaced Lens Cap
Today's Document
YOU ARE THE REASON

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@stormfrxnt
renegadepaladin's N7 paladin, Alexei!
Lost That Easy - Cold War Kids You study ancient intelligence It’s a lonely life by candlelight To make believe, you talk to the dead
&
Send me “&” for my muse’s reaction to yours tracing one of their scars
They are sitting at the beach again, warm sunlight bathing them both in a shine akin to holy as the sun sets, seemingly sinks into the ocean. The sight makes a shiver run up his spine, as do Brandt’s fingers grazing his skin. It’s been awhile since Alexej has allowed anyone to get close enough to do this, has been awhile since he felt comfortable letting anyone touch him this intimately. Not that he’s going to tell Brandt, that smug asshole.
The man’s hand wanders up his back to his throat and his heart starts pounding faster, anxiety settling into his chest like a cold stone, spreading into every limb and making his mouth grow dry. “Got lost?” He grunts out, trying to sound annoyed but ending up with a tone just short of pathetic."No, didn’t wanna look at y’ugly back anymore." Brandt’s gruff voice grumbles into his ear and Alexej grins shakily, a slight ease settling over him as he tries to fight the instinct to cover his throat with both hands, to shove the man away from him and flee as far as he can, flee as he did a year ago. It’s silent again, the waves crashing onto the shore, as Brandt speaks again. “How did y’get this?” He asks, tone just a hint softer, light enough to miss it if it weren’t for the deathful stillness surrounding them. Another shiver runs up Alexej’s spine as he tries to calm the erratic beat of his heart. It’s been years but he still can’t contain his horror at the memory. He doesn’t think he ever will."Slit throat." He chokes out between grit teeth. The hand stills. His blood is pounding in his ears."Thought so." Brandt murmurs, hand still on his friend’s throat, careful not to apply any pressure. "But how?" He doesn’t specify, but the question is obvious. How did you survive? It’s a good question. One he has asked himself many times.He plasters a somewhat humorless grin onto his face. “You take knife. Slit throat.” Alexej mimics the act with shaky fingers. “Done.” Swearing he can feel Brandt rolling his eyes he forces himself into a careless shrug. “Well…” He gestures to himself. “Or not.”
The man doesn’t reply, just leaves his fingers on the scarred tissue. It tingles beneath the touch. He swallows the bile rising up his throat."Pretty badass." He finally says, carefully tracing fingers over the scar again. "Don’t get too cocky about it though."Alexej’s lips twitch. He continues watching the waves.
Send me "&" for my muse's reaction to yours tracing one of their scars.
headcanons:
001. what they smell like: aftershave and spices
002. how they sleep: on his side, with both arms stretched out in front of him.
003. what music they enjoy: he listens to all kinds of pop music; anything easygoing and fun is sure to be put into his playlist.
004. how much time they spend getting ready every morning: getting ready takes him 15 minutes tops: he showers, dries his hair, slaps on some hair gel and is ready to go.
005. their favorite thing to collect: he likes to collect comic books.
006. left or right-handed: right.
007. favourite sport: american football.
008. favourite touristy thing to do when traveling: taking pictures. a lot of them.
009. favourite kind of weather: dry, lukewarm spring weather.
010. a weird/obscure fear they have: he fears chocking to death.
headcanons:
001. what they smell like: mostly undefinable shampoo and hints of perfume.
002. how they sleep: she sleeps on her back with both arms laying down to her sides.
003. what music they enjoy: she mostly listens to rap, especially clichéd gangster rap.
004. how much time they spend getting ready every morning: evgenia is very vain and takes an hour to get ready in the morning, though her somewhat plain style often does not reflect this. she just makes sure to leave no hair out of place and no bruise visible.
005. their favorite thing to collect: she doesn't really collect things but she does indulge herself with an expensive pair of shoes or a particularly fancy perfume every few months.
006. left or right-handed: Right.
007. favourite sport: she doesn't watch sports much but she occasionally joins alexej in watching ice hockey.
008. favourite touristy thing to do when traveling: she always likes to check out local markets.
009. favourite kind of weather: dry, sunny days.
010. a weird/obscure fear they have: it's not a fear per se, but watching people pick at their skin, especially on their fingers disgusts her as she can never stop herself from imagining them ripping out healthy skin too.
"Keep your hands where I can see them."
When you picked a career as a cop, it changed you. Altered you. If you let it, it would have you stop seeing people as people, but as prey and predators. Who to sniff out, and who to raise your hackles back at. Everyone was innocent until proven guilty, but if you looked hard enough, you could find the guilt in anyone and everyone.
The point was, of course, was that over time the job had a way of making even the most level headed a little paranoid. But that often times paid off; it saved her own neck plenty enough times, after all.
"Alexej, right?" Her eyes leveled on the man. There wasn’t fear or disdain or cruelty in her eyes, only a guarded blankness. Calmness seemed to settle on her shoulders like the ice her name bore, but she offered a warm smile all the same to put the man at ease. "I was told to come to you if I’m looking for information. Do I keep walking?"
Alexej narrowed his eyes. He didn't fear random thugs knocking at his door; only selected, more powerful people than the low-life goons prowling the streets knew of his existence, let alone his location. Not that the woman looked like a goon. She was too proper, had a calm, more controlled aura to her than the people he was used to socialize with. It put him even more on edge. Nevertheless, if she had wanted to shoot him she would have started doing so by now, not given him the time to stare her down and calculate just what kind of risk she presented. He withdrew his hand from his drawer. "Who?" He almost barked, not exactly sure how to react. Her tone seemed warm, almost calming and he refused to let it cloud his judgement. The charming smile she threw him, the flash of white teeth and the job proposition might have worked on him any other time but she had startled him, ripped the calm ease that had settled onto him ever since his arrival in the US a few months ago right away from him. "Who are you?" He leaned forward onto his desk, propping his hands onto it's edge. "Who told you?"
For a second there, Brandt really was going to explain just what a sandcastle is to Alexej, but quickly decides against it. Russian bastard.
Now, Brandt would like to say he’s indifferent as the other takes off his shirt, but, well, you could say Al’s wardrobe choices don’t really reflect what’s underneath. He has to appreciate that Alexej’s eyes wander, lest he catch Brandt looking. Which reminds him: sunglasses. All the hot bodies, none of the awkward confrontations. Truly, they are the pinnacle of human technology.
”Y’fuckin’ sleaze. Ain’t like she’d be interested in you anyhow; not when this," he says, shamelessly gesturing toward himself, "is standin’ right next to you."
He rolls his eyes, almost theatrically, only to remember that Brandt can't see him doing so. Damn, he enjoys letting his exasperation show on his face. And showing his friend that he is not the least intimidated by his physical prowess, no matter how 'smashing' his 'bod' is, as Jin would say. Turning away from the woman he carefully positions his towel before sitting down, looking up at the still standing Brandt. He opens his mouth reply, an what he is sure incredibly witty retort in mind-
When Brandt shifts, his muscles shifting beneath his smooth skin. He swallows, taking off his sunglasses. "Blyat, man, you been workin' out?"
How long has it been since Brandt’s had an honest-to-God, fun, free (basically: one that’s not filled with tireless drills and freezing waters) day at the beach? Sure, he spent plenty of time around the ocean during his time with the Navy, but those trips were only ever filled with breathing drills in freezing water or missions with bullets falling from the sky harder than rain.
But that’s just a mood-killer. Brandt’s here now and he’s ready to make the most of it. At his good old pal’s expense, no doubt.
”Just don’t ask me to help you build a sandcastle, alright?”
"Sandcastle?" Alexej frowns, not sure what his friend is talking about. Half of the time misunderstandings between Brandt and him are caused by their language barrier and the other half of the time it's their inability to stop making sarcastic remarks at each other. Judging from Brandt's tone this time his confusion is caused by both of those things.
Taking in Brandt's outfit, or lack thereof, he shrugs off his shirt too, letting his gaze wander to the other people occupying the beach. It settles on what appears to be a young woman sunbathing, a hat loosely draped over her head and her...backside facing him. He grins.
"Really good day for this, bratan."
He looks up, squinting despite his sunglasses. The air feels warm, almost humid against his skin and he can already smell the ocean, it's salty essence having a relaxing effect on him despite his initial reluctance. It's been years since he has been at a beach but he remembers it fondly. having enjoyed spending time at Baku's beaches as a small child. And if he has to wait around in the States while the situation at home calms down he's going to enjoy it, dammit! "Good day for this." He turns to Brandt.
"Don’t listen to what anybody says except the people who encourage you. If it’s what you want to do and it’s within yourself, then keep going and try to do it for the rest of your life."
winteredcommander started following you
Alexej looks up sharply, narrowing his eyes at the person entering his make-shift office. He doesn't recognize her, can't find any sign of affiliation on her and it puts him on edge. Barely anyone knows who or where he is. He has learned from past mistakes. "Who are you?" He snaps, already reaching for the gun inside the drawer of his desk but not grabbing it. Waiting for her to answer.
i wanna take you for all that you got.