#( x. thread )

[lost-and-hound]

@ascnsion​

Being a private investigator in the city of New York means Fiona sees her fair share of strange and bizarre. Especially with her abilities. And while she tries to steer clear of trouble -- not taking on clients that are obviously bad news, only sticking to what her job entails, not sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong -- sometimes trouble finds her anyway. Most of the time, that means not picking up her work phone when certain numbers call or keeping a baseball bat by the door. But this time... this time involves the FBI.

Her stomach is in knots the whole walk over to the Midtown police station, her lower lip nearly raw from her chewing at it ever since she’d gotten the call to come in to answer questions. Apparently one of her former clients was the most recent in a slew of abductions. She of course remembers the woman; not much younger than her, pretty and kind and completely broken up about her cheating boyfriend. It was never easy to show the photographs in those cases. Fiona had assured her she was better off on her own.

At first, she’s met by an officer. But then he leads her further into the precinct to a solitary room and she tries her best not to feel like a caged animal, even as her shoulders twitch when the door opens and a young man she assumes to be an agent steps in. 

[bengalisms]

— ❋ @nolaroots​ ;; cont.

The house is filled with warm, flickering lamplight, giving every room a dreamy effect. It’s something you see in a movie, but never experience in real life. Pasha deals with the strange and unusual everyday (hell, she is the strange and unusual), but this? This takes her breath away; this is a magic in its own right.

But she’s done her research; she knows what all this is about, but she’s never been one to intrude. For days, she has been a quiet observer, watching (and helping) Cas prepare the house, but, this part, she’d let him do on his own, not thinking it was her place to join in. Not wanting to insert herself where she didn’t belong. (She knows all too well what that feels like.)  

Shadows dance along the walls, stretching thin and morphing back again as Caspian moves closer. His is an infectious smile, rivaling the lamps strategically scattered around the room. When you see it, you can’t help but smile, too, even when you’re in a shitty mood. At least that’s how Pasha feels, a grin of her own forming, her heart leaping with anticipation as she reaches for the wick.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” she says, a happy blush overtaking her cheeks, darkening her skin. “I’ve been watchin’ you do it, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to join you or not.” Her tongue touches her lip as she looks around, curiosity sparking. “Is it necessary for you to light them one by one, or can you…you know—?” It’s still weird for her to openly talk about her magic. She wiggles her fingers around and hope he understands her meaning.

         She’s been a great help over the last few days. Lots to prepare this year and with his whole family soon to arrive, Caspian wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Tonight was his favourite of the whole year. The weight of past month falling away, replaced with hopefulness and delight. And to have Pasha here was something that filled his heart with so much light and joy already. He felt like he, himself was a burning wick set in a diyas full of melted ghee. Burning strongly, unrelenting and colourful against the cozy darkness that sits in his chest. 

          Caspian had always enjoyed this day for the two parts of what it was. The light was a warmth he was only recently getting used to. Darkness had been his comfort for a long while. Having the two come together makes his whole body sing with excitement. Two homes living perfectly in one. Diwali, about the triumph of good over evil, and yet he sees it more as a coming together. The world will never be perfect. He will always have something evil inside him. But that doesn't mean his gods ignore him, that doesn't mean he cannot be warmed by the bright orange glow of a candle. He deserves this. 

           ❝ I don’t mind. I kind of went overboard with the diyas this year. Could use the help. ❞ He chuckles, glancing about the room. Half of the house is lit to perfection, the other half still sits int he dark, anxious to be illuminated like the rest. 

            Her question poses an interesting dilemma. The diyas are always meant to be lit one by one. A silent prayer or mantra to be thought in one’s head. But above all else, lighting the Diyas was something that needed awareness. To be connected to your actions, to take them as they are and not for grated. Awakefullness, steady and slow actions to light the way. It’s why each wick is created in front of it’s prospective diyas. It’s the wick is dipped in the ghee with slow and meticulous actions. It’s why each one is lit individually. 

            But curiosity has always been his greatest source of playfulness. He glances to the wick, smiling as he speaks. ❝ Now that’s an idea. ❞ He grins, moving forward to kiss her forehead before he stands and walks to the kitchen. He takes the remaining ghee and the cotton sheets and rolls them. He dips them with impatient actions, making sure to soak the fabric throughoutly. With ghee covered fingers he takes the wick to the remaining diyas and sets them down in a perfect position. The occasional ❝ wait wait wait! ❞ is whispered in a rush as he passes by Pasha. He moves with an anxiousness of a child waiting to see a rabbit pulled from a hat at a magic show. 

            He’s always been a rule breaker, even if not many people see him that way. 

           At last he comes back to stand beside her, glancing at the unlit part of the house. His smile is unrelenting as he looks to her. ❝ Okay... Ready. ❞

[bengalisms]

— ❋ @nattjeger ;; cont.

“Oooh wow– Cas, I–” Eirik could barely finish their sentence, blushing darkly at the gift, not something they have been expecting at all.

They looked between the book and Caspian a couple of times before reaching their own hand to take it, their cold fingers accidentally brushing against Caspian’s that held the item.

“I’m always interested in demon and ghost lores around the world, and I wouldn’t have something Hindu from anyone but you, the source, Cas… I appreciate this a lot… thank you, watch me dissapear as I get lost in this book…” They bowed their head a bit and brought the book up and gave it a sniff, their eyes rolling at the sweet, old, musky scent of the book, and lovin’ it.

They panickly stopped doing that, assuming how weird it must’ve looked like to Caspian.

“Shit, I’m being weird again.”

       There’s a softness here that Caspian has yet to see. Eirik, so hardened most days, it was hard to imagine them as anything less than a dark, thin line on a crisp white page. They seemed to hold so much in them that there was no room for softness. And yet, with the simple act of giving a gift, Eirik transforms before Caspian in a way he never expected. 

       Smiling, Caspian nods as Eirik speaks of their love of ghost stories. But as they go on, twisting words into something almost affectionate, Caspian cheeks heat and his eyes focus on Eirik’s dark ones. He blinks, smile faltering simply because he’s surprised by such kind words. His tongue cannot be spurred into action –– not until Eirik draws the book to his nose and sniffs. His smile stretches out, a small chuckle being contained in his chest. 

       ❝ It’s not weird. I do it too. ❞ Mostly with the books that remind him of the good times. The books that he’s taken everywhere smell differently than a new book. This one is old, the paper ripped in some parts, the ink bleeding in others. It’s no doubt it’s a very rare find. Caspian had smelt it too, and the overwhelming smell of incense and smoke clung to its pages. After all, it had no doubt belonged to a guru or Pandit at one point. 

       Though Eirik’s former words about accepting a Hindu text from no one but him made Caspian blush again. ❝ And I’m no expert or anything but... Being seen as a Rakshasa myself makes me interested in their stories. ❞ A darker side to Caspian’s faith that not even his own Father knows. He smiles, a little sheepish over the fact. ❝ When I was a kid, a guru once told me my story would end up in one of these books. He told me they weren’t many left so... Call it curiosity. If anyone’s going to help keep stories like this safe... It would be you. ❞ Many people wouldn’t, especially Guru’s and Pandits. But Eirik would do well too. His own Pandit was very welcoming of the lesser known parts of the Hindu faith. In fact, it was his Pandit who helped him find said book, even matching Caspian’s excitement.

[bengalisms]

— ❋ @qdir ;; cont.

eyes closed , she holds the steaming cup of chai close , savouring how the warmth from the cup radiates through her body.   tilts , slightly , resting her head on Caspian’s shoulder.        what was the phrase her mother used to say   ?   her Pashto still rings strong in Sooraya’s mind ,  i’m just resting my eyes ,  she would say , and it elicits a smile.       ❛    mhm.  had so much work today   …   two exams soon   …    ❜    

        Head canted to look at her, Caspian’s own smile begins to pinch the corner of his cheeks. His concern lingers, but it’s soft and non-urgent. She’s resting. Long days have likely turned into long nights. He forgets about her exams, nodding slightly before leaning his head down to rest cheek to the crown of her head. ❝ Any more after those two are done? ❞ He hopes not. The book he’s been reading staring at for the last 30 minutes slowly lowers into his lap, thumb the only thing keeping track of his place in the book.

[bengalisms]

— ❋ @thesundowncrew ;; cont.

“Oh,” Natalie quipped, more thoughtfully than disappointed. Her class had been tasked with creating panoramas of scary scenes or locations, like graveyards or haunted houses which naturally got her thinking. “A lot of people believe in ghosts though. An’ monsters an’ demons,” she mused out loud. It would be her first time celebrating Halloween with her big brother and dads.

“I don’t know if I believe in them or if it’s just all play-pretend like in the movies,” she said as she painted another cardboard bed grey while the others were laid aside to dry. Her haunted scene looked like a large room that were shades of grey from top to bottom. There were windows cut out on one side of the room, with torn tissue paper for curtains. There were many small beds neatly arranged in rows, all grey with white cotton balls for pillows.

She picked up the paper doll she drew earlier and showed it to Caspian, grinning widely. The paper doll looked suspiciously like her, with her two pigtails and usual pink-purple wardrobe. Except instead of a grin, the paper doll looked sad. “Can you guess what I made yet??”

        Their first halloween together. Their first October, too. He wonders and has wondered, if Natalie has noticed his change in behaviour. She must have. He’s more isolated, spends more time sulking, not as talkative. He’s had more night terrors this week than normal. Things have changed. And with his birthday fast approaching (a small detail he’s tried to avoid telling his sister) he knows this year will be a hard one. 

        She loves halloween. She’s said so often enough that Caspian’s heart is torn between upset and excitement for her. Today it’s chosen to be somewhere in the middle. 

        ❝ Yeah... Lots of people do. ❞ It was hard the way his mind twisted. He’d been called a monster. People believed in him in the most devastating of ways. He hadn’t told Natalie. How could he? To learn your big brother is a monster was not something she needed. ❝ I think demons are real... ❞ I am one, technically. ❝ Like the rakshasa Aapa talks about sometimes. ❞

        Monsters made of adharma, sent to harm. He believes in them, but perhaps not in the literal sense. ❝ I don’t think they’re all scary though. ❞

        His thoughts drag away from his own past and focus on the one unfolding on the paper below. He knew the moment she began to line the walls with beds what she was making. His heart tugged and he squeezes her a little tighter. He lowers his chin to rest on her shoulder, head pressing against hers. ❝ Yeah, that’s the orphanage right? ❞ He asks, only because it seems more right for her to confirm it. He gives her another tight squeeze. 

[bengalisms]

— ❋ @waywardsignns ;; cont.

“No no, Rahul, we have some here, remember?” she urged, gently tugging the boy’s hand back from where he was reaching to try to grab for a few sweets, her purse hanging from her elbow where it fell from her shoulder with the small bag of candy stuffed within. Though naturally Rahul didn’t exactly like her suggestion, though she still had the time to look at the man behind the counter, smile and thank him for his help before turning to head back onto the street. “When we get home you can have your candy, that was the deal,” Emma continued on, turning so that she could open the door with her back as she held onto Rahul with both hands.

Though the moment she got onto the sidewalk, she nearly collided into another, causing her to stumble a bit before catching her balance. “Oh! Oh I’m so-” stopping immediately the moment she caught notice of who it was that was there, her heart sank clear to her toes as she looked to the man that she had loved all those years ago. He had shorter hair then … and he had really grown into himself … quite frankly he was far more handsome than she remembered.

Though feeling Rahul squirming in her hold certainly was a reminder why this would not be a good thing. “I ah… Caspian… hey…” she greeted, glancing down … and again found herself shell shocked. A child? He … he had never been the type to have wanted a kid…

        Caspian’s life had been flipped upside down. Learning Makena’s story 4 months ago was a catalyst he never expected to throw him into the life he was in now. He’d taken her in, his heart far too large for his own good and now he was basically a father. He resisted using that word –– trying to get Makena into foster care didn’t make him a dad it just... Made him someone who really wanted to help someone. That didn’t stop people from defining them as father and daughter. And lately he... Hadn’t been correcting them. He told himself it was for simplicity sake. 

        But right about now, with Makena in the mood to play in the middle of a busy side walk, all Caspian could think was: ‘I’m definitely not a dad.’ 

        ❝ Makena! ❞ He says it with a tone of annoyance, but the girl seems far more interested and wrapping Caspian’s scarf around her face and running away with it. Giggles ensue as Caspian winds through the crowd, and it isn’t until Makena turns around, walking backwards, that she bumps into the knees of a young, blonde woman with a child in her arms. 

        Makena, shocked slightly, gasps and turns around quickly. Wide eyes look up at the woman as she starts to apologize, but Caspian is soon to swoop in and pick her up. She gasps again, but this time it’s just due to surprise before relaxation settles into the child’s bones. Her arms loop immediately around Caspian’s neck, burying herself close to him as he sighs and looks to apologize to the woman. 

        ❝ No no, it’s okay she–– ❞ He stops, looking at the woman who’d he’d not only dated, but fell madly in and out of love with. Though the out was debatable, based on the dumbfounded look he was giving her right now. ❝ Emma? ❞ He blinks, staring at her without realizing it. Seconds pass before his gaze drifts to the child on her hip. Big eyes, sweet face, playful smile. Cute kid. Wait... HER kid?

[bengalisms]

— ❋ @asortofsensation ;; um...

          ❝ Um, I’m sorry, how did you come to think this was a good idea? ❞ When staying at a hotel for a conference, Caspian was always a little on edge. As the youngest philanthropist to have the award he had and to continue to make waves in the philanthropy world 2 years later, he was certainly someone everyone had their eyes on. He kept his private life quiet, no one should know that Caspian Bengal was staying here. 

          And yet there was a woman, in his robe, sitting amongst his things as if she owned the place. His mind had been reeling, threatening to call down to the front desk. But he was a kind man and let her explain herself. 

           ❝ You didn’t think that maybe I’d come back? This is–– ❞ Hand cards through long locks before he draws his other hand down his face. Groaning into the palm of his hand for a long moment, he peers over his fingers to see her in front of him still. He’s exhausted, he’s stressed. He just wants this to go smoothly. This is not smooth. 

            ❝ Look, just–– ❞ He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. ❝ Just explain it to me... Again? I just need a minute to catch up here. ❞

[bengalisms]

— ❋ @royalchemy ;; trespassing. 

          ❝ What are you doing here? ❞ They question comes to his lips before he can stop himself from asking. He had spent a few moments roaming the area around the back temple. A good distance away from the main city, it’s huge walls made of golden stone stretched high behind him, still able to be seen even at this distance. They hid well in the tall jungle foliage, but once you got close, you would have to be blind not to see the glittering city. 

          ❝ You’re not supposed to be here. ❞ Eyes scan her form before glancing to the jungle. Normally the watch Baaghir would spot a trespasser. Their large tiger forms –– bigger than a normal tiger –– would frighten anyone away. And even if they didn’t, Baaghir would attack and kill to protect their people. And yet there were none following this woman. Caspian himself, dumbfounded at her presence, cannot help his skeptical gaze.