seen from India
seen from Spain
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Netherlands
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seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
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seen from United States
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starter for @chemiicalisms !
BI COLORED HUES STARE blankly down at the sleek table surface; the metal curled around his wrists feel heavy. Confining. Suffocating. He’s only somewhat conscious of the garbled voices surrounding him -- and after thirty long seconds, he finally lifts his gaze up to study the man sitting before him. He all but recoils. ❛ -- do not want -- to talk. ❜
ZACHARIE !
@chemiicalisms | in which zacharie’s been dead to zaiden for months.
MONSTERS DON’T HAVE A FAMILY. Beasts like him weren’t worthy of it; they don’t deserve the kindness or solace of a familiar touch. The unholy divinity coursing through his veins were a curse Zaiden was forced to bear unquestioningly, undoubtedly, and unabashedly -- and if that meant forsaking everything, then so be it. A king like him couldn’t be held back by anything -- NOT EVEN FAMILY -- and his own brother, his own flesh and blood, had reminded him of that very fact without shame. Zacharie Hendricks was born from the same mother, the same father as Zaiden had been -- and yet, were you to ask Zaiden about his twin, his only response was that HE HAD NO BROTHER. Not anymore. His mirror image, his other half, died months ago when he turned his back on the squadron and fled back into the fray of bullets and gunfire. His twin brother died when he gave up Zaiden in favor of a lover’s life. His twin brother was DEAD. The Zacharie that lived and breathed today was no brother of his. He was an embarrassment, and Zaiden refused to recognize the fallen Hendricks as anything but that -- A MISTAKE.
A BLEMISH.
UNWORTHY, UNWORTHY, UNWORTHY.
Months had passed since THAT night; the days had bled into weeks, and no matter how many times the moon shifted in and out of its phases, the damage remained. The explosive argument had given way to complete radio silence -- and before long, Zacharie’s belongings were quietly removed from their family home as Zaiden worked to organize an interim second-in-command to replace the former’s position until a more PERMANENT solution was reached. His twin’s once-familiar presence became a distant, fleeting memory and their once comfortable companionship morphed into something ugly, vile, and unrecognizable. Zaiden couldn’t stomach the sight of the other for longer than a handful of minutes, and as time wore on, it became common knowledge that the Syndicate’s prince had fallen out of the king’s favor. Zacharie was BENCHED for all Zaiden cared and would stay as such until further notice. As little contact as possible was preferred -- but not even Zaiden could get his way all the time.
The contract drawn up for his next mark was inconvenient at best; a heist designed for a full squadron rather than a singular killer meant that the blue-eyed king had no CHOICE but to make a selection that went against his preferences… ESPECIALLY since the key to success for this particular job relied heavily on a member with knowledge on chemical engineering -- leaving Zaiden with no alternative but to swallow his pride and request the services of the man he all but REFUSED to acknowledge for months. The message was delivered through a third party -- god forbid that Zaiden would actually grace his disavowed brother with a face to face warning -- and a meeting was organized to take place in a separate, secluded rendezvous location.
Zacharie had been banished from their family home & Zaiden had absolutely no intention of allowing that MISTAKE from ever stepping foot within the grounds ever again.
The night of the meeting rolled around faster than Zaiden would have liked, but the assassin held his head high. Shoulders squared, jaw set, blue eyes narrowed into piercing chips of ice. Everything about him -- from the stern, unreadable expression gracing his angular features down to the sleek black ensemble hugging his body tight -- seemed to scream CONTROL. Leather gloved hands gripped his favorite pistol in clear view -- A WARNING to watch your tongue in his presence -- and with each step he took, the heavy heel of his steel-toed boots echoed through the empty warehouse. He could make out the tall figure seated upright at the small table arranged in the center of the empty room, but Zaiden didn’t bother to ACKNOWLEDGE HIM. He wasn’t worth his time or extra breaths. Thumb clicked off the safety of the pistol in his grasp before setting it down against the smooth surface of the table, gaze sweeping over the other with thinly-veiled disgust.
❝ Don’t waste my time. Take out your papers and brief me on your plan. You have five minutes, and COUNTING. ❞
@chemiicalisms | ZACHARIE.
THERE IS A SKETCHBOOK in his hands, and while his fingers twitch on occasion the man is FOCUSED on the lines he creates. A smudge of charcoal here, and a thick line of DEFINITION somewhere else. He is calmest when creating, a swarm of PEACE settling in his chest and allowing him to FORGET, even if momentarily.
For a brief moment he doesn’t realize he isn’t ALONE, and then piercing baby blues shift upwards and meet with ones that were far more icy. Tone is so gentle he WONDERS if the other will even hear him. “... I won’t be long.”
She’s naturally drawn to violent people, those with war in their bones. They use to worship her and her brother. But they have long since been forgotten. Now she wonders through the streets, waiting for someone to say something stupid or make a wrong move so she can relieve the tension in her muscles, pent up from years without razing a town or something of the like. Today is one of her calmer days, having recently beaten the living daylights out of someone who thought it was a good idea to make a vulgar comment at her. She’s sitting at a bar, her tank top revealing just a hint of the sprawling tattoo on her back, glass of whiskey in front of her. That’s when he takes a seat beside her, and her crimson eyes flick towards him, a small smile curling on her lips. “Plenty of other empty seats in the bar, unless you wanted to sit next to little ol’ me?”
@chemiicalisms
@chemiicalisms // ZACHARIE.
“I HAVE A FAVOR to ask of you.” Zahirith got straight to the point, determined expression etched on her face as she took a few more steps into the room. He was almost as ODD as her. There’s just the hint of a dark smile playing at the corner of her lips, trailing down her thin form. “I need a poison.” Hand holds out a dagger about nine inches long, jagged along the edges with just the hint of a compartment at the hilt - pooling through the rest of the silver with small vents and HOLES.
“I need something that will ROT A PERSON from the INSIDE OUT as SLOW and as PAINFUL as humanly possible. It’s for someone S P E C I A L.”
@chemiicalisms // ZACHARIE.
“Do you always treat Zaiden’s partners like this or is it just because I’m a MAN ?” He’d been wondering it for a while now, and since they had a bit of time together, the reject figured it was the BEST TIME to ask.
SURE, he was the brunt of most people’s problems when it came to his social status within the college, but this was different. It felt like a PERSONAL ATTACK. “Because if that’s the case you’re a fucking asshole, and I hope you know I’m not letting go of your brother ANY TIME SOON.”
she gets desperate sometimes. an itch, spread out through her bones, her muscles, her nerves - sometimes she just needs something to put her body at ease, to calm her nerves. it’s quite pathetic, actually, if she wasn’t so terribly good at making herself nice & pretty for anyone who might help her out - just a bat of her lashes, a honeyed smile and a tilt of her head: “ hey — you got something for me ? ”
@chemiicalisms / STARTER CALL.
@chemiicalisms // ZACHARIE.
He’s just out of the shower, hair still wet and a towel wrapped carelessly around his waist. The hunter’s clothes are still tossed haphazardly on Zaiden’s bed, forgotten in their entirety. Xander had been in there for ages, using up the hot water that steamed across the colder room, and STAINED his back a rosy pink as he let his brain fall to mush. It was only circumstance that he didn’t hear anyone come in, though he was sure Zaiden would be back eventually even though a time had not been set. He’d gotten used to not KNOWING. At this time of the day - or night, he hadn’t checked - the place was usually empty anyways. He had it completely to himself, which was as lonely as it was comforting. Here his mind didn’t go to the worst, at his brownstone - there were too many things to remind him of what he LOST.
Stomach growling, the hunter heads out of the room - towards the kitchen - only to come face to face with someone else. It was eerie, and for a split second he feels weightless, heart jumping into his throat. The man was slightly turned from him but the resemblance to Zaiden was UNCANNY. It was only a moment, but he thought perhaps it WAS him before he realized who it actually happened to be. The brother... and this is how they would meet. The color drains from his skin, and a noise of surprise leaves his lips as he immediately checks to make sure he’s still RELATIVELY COVERED. He wonders how many other people Zacharie had seen nearly naked coming out from his brother’s room - when his brother wasn’t even home.
“Fuck! Shit - I - fuck.” His back hits the wall behind him before he bounces off. He clears his throat and tries again, his tone calmer than he actually FELT. “Y-you must be Zacharie. It’s... nice to meet you.”
