#infernocte

[walkpathe-arch]

› i could keep you safe. they're all afraid of me.

'  talking about your pet ravens?  '   the edge of his razor sharp mouth softens an inch,  as neil swivels to look at @infernocte.  the icy glare was reserved for the row of disgruntled ravens some tables ahead,  looking featherless and lost without their king and in utter disbelief about their new captain's behavior.  bianca di angelo,  not just mingling with foxes at the fall banquet,  but with their soon to be captain,  sitting next to him,  angling her head to mutter something cospiratory for his ears alone. 

'  it's fine.  i trust you to keep them in line.  '   without breaking them is implied,  self evident.  bianca is not riko,  she won't be a monster and the erc seems to think so too.  the board had been adamant about things running smoothly from here on out,  though,  no repeat of the previous freak show,  no more pr fiascos.  it's clear bianca has her hands full without needing to worry about him.

'  your new backliner looks on the verge of a stroke already.  do you think he will drop dead if i walk you back to your table?  '

[violentlydone]

"miss di angelo", he greets, a file in his hands while he sits across from her. after a moment of silence (the tick tock of the clock their only company) he places the pile of paper down and presses his hands, flat, over the cold metal table. "do you know why we are keeping you here?" @infernocte

[neveraftersbye]

take anything you want and know you deserve to have it. / jean!

it wasn't that simple. bianca knew that better than anyone. jean, especially, was property. he didn't get what he wanted. he was lucky to get what he needed to survive. he didn't feel lucky. he wouldn't wish the life he lived on anyone, even his worst enemies. life at castle evermore was . . . complicated couldn't even begin to explain it. he didn't even know if he could put pen to paper to describe all the hell they were put through, not even sun up to sun down. they lived in a different time schedule down there, one he still hadn't gotten out of his system. his sleeping schedule would never be the same . . . not that he had ever gotten much sleep.

"i do not want for anything. and if i did, i would not deserve it." jean knew he was not innocent. he did a lot of things he wasn't proud of, and it didn't matter if someone else forced his hand. if he was only doing what he needed to do to survive. he hurt people, lied to them. made them feel safe when they weren't. he was part of the problem when he should have been a part of the solution. even if that would have gotten him killed. at least then, he could have died an honorable man instead of living with so much regret and self hatred. "you should take that advice for yourself. you deserve it."

[r0undtree]

there's   a   drink   in   his   hands,   the   words   just   give   me   something   thrown   at   the   bartender   while   his   eye   was   throbbing   in   pain.   it   occurs   to   him   that   maybe   he   should   apply   ice,   but   he   can't   be   bothered   to   ask.   there's   too   much   going   on   in   his   head   —   the   fact   that   billy   actually   punched   him,   said   all   of   those   things   when   eddie   has   done   nothing   but   sacrifice   himself   to   keep   the   band   alive.   fuck   him.   fuck   all   of   this.   

still,   he's   distinctly   aware   that   he   has   sound   check   at   four   o'clock.   there's   another   show   he   has   to   get   through.   and   another,   and   another,   until   the   tour   is   finished.   eddie   finally   lifts   his   eyes   from   the   half   empty   cup,   and   finds   himself   with   another   pair   of   eyes   staring   at   him.   “   what?   ”   he   says,   somewhat   defensive.   “   you   should   see   the   other   guy.   ”   not   really,   because   he   wasn't   enough   of   an   asshole   to   punch   billy   in   the   face   before   a   show.   “   do   you,   uh...   have   the   time?   ”   (   starter   call   ,   @infernocte   ) .

[phantasiia]

but you see.... it's like this...

hades @ zagreus: frankly, i'm surprised you're even here. i have no idea what to do with you. will fuck this up royally. thankfully, if you die you'll come back and i can get a re-do.

hades @ melinoe: persephone, are we positively sure this one is ours? *most closely resembles him. the normal kid who the narrative said would herald an army from hell to kill her father* ok this may have been a stupid question

hades @ makaria: this is baby !!!!! my sweet angel !!! has never done anything wrong ever !!!?!!?!

hades @ niko: hmmm..... maybe i won't fuck up with this son as bad, but i'm still *squints*

hades @ bianca: this is baby !!!!! my feral piccola !!! has never done anything wrong ever !!!?!!?!

[walkpathe-arch]

you're being secretive, even for you./ hello bestie! neilbianca as always!

''  stop sticking your nose in my business,  then.  ''   neil quips right back,  skates in hand as he sits outside the rink.  he doesn't even turn to look at @infernocte,  just keeps staring at the ice,  the shock of white familiar and welcoming under the lights   (   that should have long since been turned off,  but their insane coach said he could make use of the rink during the off hours too   ).  neil wants to press his hands to the hard,  gleaming surface,  keep them there until they go hypothermic and he doesn't feel a thing anymore.  he finds reason and a better use for his hands in the next breath:  putting his skates on.

''  i didn't break in,  if that's what you're thinking,  ''   he adds somewhat reluctantly,  like it's physically painful for him to not be on the ice already. like the simple act of talking with his new found partner is wasting precious time that could be spent trying to get the hang of the discipline.  which means forgetting most,  if not all,  of what playing hockey taught him.   ''  coach gave me the keys.  ''   of course there is only so much he could do alone,  but the thought of asking her to join him hadn't crossed his mind at all,  before now.

you made a fool of death

[walkpathe-arch]

› bianca wipes blood from neil's face with her thumb.

neil sways a little on his feet,   barely registering the hot trickle of blood pouring from his nose.  his legs tingle all over with exertion after being pushed nearly to their limits and for a moment neil isn't sure they will carry him to the plexiglass walls,  let alone out of the court and into the locker rooms.  the roar of the crowd drowns out his teammates' voices,  but neil is still staring at the scoreboard,  racquet held in a white knuckled grip.  this isn't disbelief,  a mad rush of dizzying adrenaline after an impossibile win,  this is neil josten committing the moment to memory,  pride pooling warm in his chest. 

when @infernocte finds him he is hooking his fingers through the straps of his helmet,  exposing his grin in full and entirely uncaring of his bloodied teeth bared to the world   (   she has seen him bleed much worse,  anyway   ).  the absence of violence in a touch doesn't startle him anymore,  so when bianca takes her hand to his face and uses her fingers to catch at the blood above the jut of his lips he not only allows for it,  but also reaches out,  fast and sure,  to draw her closer.   '  we're here.  we made it,  '   neil speaks with his cheek pressed to her own,  an arm around her shoulders and a smile that refuses to fade from his gun of a mouth.  winning his first olympic gold would do that to him,  he supposes.

[walkpathe-arch]

[GROUND]: during a moment of intense emotional stress, the sender gently takes the receiver's face in their hands to ground them until they're calmer again. /neilbianca but these are all for raven!neil bcs we gotta have variety and insanity

nathaniel's first instinct is to scramble away from the touch,   to shake so hard out of his skin nothing can reach him anymore,  but @infernocte is relentless,  she chases him as his back knocks against the bedpost.  night terrors and whatever riko forced down his throat last night   (   the edges of it hazy,  blurred by substances and the drum of heavy bass ringing through his skull   )   not mixing well for neil's already scarred psyche.  his mother's screams and riko's laughter.  his father's world shattering cruelty   (   fetch me my knives,  nathaniel.  i will show you what to do with traitors   ).  all so vivid,  real and distorted in his memories at the same time,  made worse by his disoriented state.

''  what has he done to me?  i don't—  ''   breath rattles in his throat as he tries to gather air into his lungs.  he chokes on a dry sob instead,  his breathing becoming more and more erratic by the second.   ''  i blacked out.  ''   he stops fighting,  grabs her wrists to tether him to reality instead,  fingers harsh and desperate.  a shut door,  the touch on his skin not unwelcome and unwanted,  riko and his minions nowhere in sight.  safe.  he's safe.  he just has to convince himself of it enough to draw a full breath.

reasons to cup a face