#new ork

[moodboardmix]

Gabriel Hendifar's Pad, New York, United States,

Interior design by John Pawson & Gabriel Hendifar,

Styling: Helle Walsted,

Photography: Wichmann + Bendstel.

[heavensdoorways]

"Winter Cathedral"

Brooklyn Botanic Garden’s annual Lightscape show 

[takunwilliams]

Jordan vs Ewing by technodrome1

[acocktailmoment]

Rebel Without a Claus !

1 oz. Four Pillars Bloody Shiraz Gin

1 oz. Laird’s Apple Brandy

2/3 oz. mulled wine syrup*

1 barspoon Granada Vallet Bitter Pomegranate Liqueur 

1 barspoon absinthe

3 dashes Mole Bitters

1 Angostura Bitters

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass and stir with ice. Strain into a rocks glass. Garnish with a lemon twist and star anise or cinnamon stick.

*Mulled Wine Syrup

1 bottle cheap dry red wine

4 pieces star anise

3-5 cinnamon sticks

4-5 cardamom pods

1 orange, juice and zest

1.5 c. (300 g) demerara sugar

Make a mulled wine by combining ingredients (with the exception of the demerara) in a saucepan. Heat until the wine reaches a boil on a medium-high heat; reduce the heat and let simmer for 15 minutes. Add demerara; mix until dissolved and continue to let the wine mixture simmer until it has reduced by three quarters. Strain mixture and allow to cool.

Recipes Courtesy Accomplice Bar, Los Angeles,

Photo: courtesy Courtney Northrop

This article was not sponsored or supported by a third-party. A Cocktail Moment is not affiliated with any individuals or companies depicted here.

[studentofmovement]

Gotham Vibes

[awakeningofthedeath]

Awakening of the Death-Chapter #5

The constellations are so different here. I never seen so many...but theres more starts here then in London. Too bad though that they will fade soon. I never realized that the city is really growing. Will my sanity be like these stars? How much longer can I hold on to my sanity until nothing but blackness clouded my mind.

Jack stared up into the constellations from the rooftops, his mind seemed to be still with only a single moral thought screaming in his mind. 

I could of killed Hellen. 

True, he killed before, but mostly templars and never seemed to of moved him. Yet when he is in his darkest thoughts and his memories come upon him like a tiger upon a deer.  He still had horrors of when he seriously injured Jacob five  years before in India. Yet this time, he had nothing to strike at to release his tension and strength. He just ran through the streets and all of central park and finally, to the place where he and Hellen stay. He couldn’t bear to bring himself inside. So he sat on the roof, watching the twilight fall and seeing the night in it’s radiance. He heard the sound of light footsteps, He turned on his knees, hidden blade out, heart pumping.

“Whoah! Easy there thunderhead!” Hellen raised her hans in surrender. Jack sighed in relief. He shelved back his blade and resumed sitting down without saying a word. Hellen walked towards the man. “I figured you’d be here. Assassin’s intuition, or just instinct to be up here. Seeing from on top of the world.” When Jack didn’t say, nor as given a tinker’s curse to even look at her; Hellen sat right next to him, looking up into the sky. “Beautiful night, eh Jack. Bet a nickel you don't see any in this mass in London.”

Again he never replied.

Hellen was beginning to lose patience. She took a breath. “We...well you won about a hundred and twenty dollars today. I’d never even knew you'd be worth as much as a racing horse in bets.” Jack’s eyes seemed to darken from what Hellen saw. “Okay...obviously you’d hate praises. Okay. But..we have enough to last us a long time if we get...”

“How could you be like this?” Jack snapped. The suddenness of the mood caught Hellen of guard.

“What the hell are you talking about Jack?”

“i could of snapped your neck right off your shoulders and you’d be jolly as if that fight was from a holiday. Damn it! I could of killed you Hellen!” Jack’s hands shook. “I’m not sure if I’m worthy of your...”

“Stop Jack!” Hellen placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. “Trying to prolong an apology will only make the wheel deeper in the mud. I’d forgiven you if I could see the purpose of that punch. But hell that was what I called a punch. Haven been hit that hard since Old man Bowmen’s mule kicked me square in the ribs. My point is. I have a thick skull, and it will take a man with the strength of a thousand Hercules’s to break this thick skull.” She tapped the top of her auburn head.

Jack resumed looking outward, eyes distant, as if in another moment, another place. One which Hellen was determined to understand for Jack’s sake.

“Hhmmm... I can tell by your expression that you are missing someone. Perhaps your parents? Your sibling? Friends... Or... Um...a girlfriend?" The last question sounds more little bit down tone. Hellen then realized that he already expressed that he didn’t have a girlfriend. But each question that she asked, Jack never responded.

Jack still staring and not moving a mussel, looking into the city that never sleeps and into the night sky. Hellen exhaled she scotched closer to him. "I m sorry, I didn't ask about yourself, Jack... Did you... Had a family?"

Jack turn his face a little bit. "I only had my mother... When I was six years old... she was murdered by my own mentor..." 

Hellen gave a small gasp. Sir Jacob Frye? " How that happen...?" Hellen try to make herself as comfortable as she can, preparing for listen Jack’s story. Time for a come to Jesus moment pa. I hope he’s really as open as I hope. 

"It's all because of that day. The day when I was a young boy, useless, I did nothing! But only witnesses for my mother's death." Hellen touch her mouth with her tips of her fingers. "But when that happen, there was only one man, who could of prevented it from happening. But he didn't do it! He choose to runaway! And let my mom's die, dying on the street! She stared at me, ordered me to run. I can still see her eyes, her blue eyes looking at me. Terrifying, holding her pain from death, her pale face... looking at me... begged me to run..." Jack voice started to tremble, Hellen could see in the waters of Jack’s eyes shimmering in the blue orals.  

He closed them, placed his head on his knees, and exhaled a shaky breath. He was exposing his vonerabilaty to this stranger.

Not a stranger!

Ally!

Jack inhale then exhale. He lifted his head and continued "And that man who's running from my mother was my mentor... Jacob Frye..." His eyes turn to darken, very evil looking, like there's a demon hiding there and prepare to awaken. 

Hellen saw this Jack turned to be someone else. Something dark. But she keep steady and trying to relax. 

“A injured maverick (wild horse) only needs trust and a soft hand before the healing begins”

The quote from Hellen’s father danced through her mind. Hope your right pa. Hellen thought.

"So... What happen to you then... And Jacob Frye?"She asked calmly

Jack clenched his fist. Trembling. "The Templars arrest me and throw me at the madhouse, Lambeth Asylum." 

Her eyes widened. She heard stories of neglect and experiments through those hospitals "Oh my God..."

"I spent more about ten years inside there. I have some... torturing, injection, overdose..." Jack stop talking. He gulped, braced himself from the anger. "Every minutes, every second I prayed to God that I will get revenged for all of this to Jacob Frye."Jack shut his mouth and back to stare at night sky. His face was little bit more reddish. He just realize it was the first time he told everything about his hellish childhood to someone he barely knows. But hell, the words all out now.

Hellen stared at him, she felt pity and sadness for this man. I'd she can do anything to makes him happy right this. Right now, she knew she’d had to do it. "That was incredibly sad, Jack. I wish, I can do more for you to be happy..." She look at Jack’s face and placed her bruised hand upon his own bloody hand. Jack stared at her too. They're​ faces blushed and they realized in the privacy of their own individual thoughts that some stupid things are developing inside their hearts.

Hellen quickly withdrew her hand, rubbing it as if to check on the injury that was never really present."Uh oh... Sorry... I mean... I had a rough past too. Jack.” 

Jack scoffed. That made Hellen’s brow wrinkle, but she kept going. “Your not My pa was killed by a pack of Templars. I was fifteen years old. Ten years ago to be exact. Or was it eleven? Hell what does it matter...”

“IT DOES MATTER!” Jack cried out. “To lose a parent, is a great loss. I watched my mother die!”

“I had to listen! Jack! He told me to hide, and I obeyed...I had to listen to him die! That is worse then watching!” Hot tears threatened to escape, yet she pinched a nerve in her hand to get her mind off the tears.

Jack took a breath. “Please. Tell me. Tell me about...that day.” He turned and devoted attention to Hellen. Jack positioned himself in order to be more relaxed, and he started to listen. She rubbed her eyes and took a breath.

“It was like any other day. Though days prior, my pa and my godfather, Collin Anderson, we’re in a serious discussion in regards of a man who came and asked my pa questions about his bloodline. And by bloodline, I’m not talking about racehorse type you know.” Hellen chuckled at the observant of the joke. “Right. A day before, my pa gave me...an object to keep in my pocket. He told me to never leave it out of my trousers nor out of my sight. The next day...”

Hellen looked down to blink the tears away. Jack couldn’t say anything at that point. Not when this girl is prepared to unearthed her soul to him.

“He hid me under the hollow floor boards of the homestead, back home in Missouri. We always had a hidden area for leftover tobacco bushels. We were tobacco farmers and well as horse brokers.”

“Horse brokers?” Jack asked.

“We trained horses. That was what my pa did best. And a headshot with on top of one, even before the war.”

“He served?” Jack asked yet another simple question.

Hellen nodded. “Commander of the Union Calvery region. Veteran of both the border and the civil part of the forsaken war. Yet, he was an assassin before, during, and after the war. He’d never told me he was one, nor of a war still going on to this day. I found out after he died. I wished he'd told me sooner, then I could of...” Hellen took a shaky breath that transfigured into a chuckle. “Sorry...I get side tracked when I...”

“Please continue Hellen.” Jack insisted.

Hellen turned to look at the horizons of New York. “Before I hid underneath, he’d told me to keep silent and wait to the outcome of whats to come. He told me if things went south. That means wrong to you Brits. I would wait for the clearance and run for the town of Liberty, where Collin Anderson lived. He was the Omega of the Kansas/Missouri border.”

“Omega?”

“It’s complicated, I’ll explain later. ”  She waved a hand in the air. “He kissed my cheek, embraced me, and said “I love you Hellen. You’ll always be my honeysuckle. Be strong and be tough as a maverick.” I told him I loved him as he closed the trap door that was under the table in the parlor room. It was quiet for a few minutes, then the hard pounding of the door came. There was a crash. There seemed to be a fight going on. I remember hearing the crash of the table above me, so I crawled forward silently. A large thud sound came above me, and as I looked up...with my gift. A gift I thought only I had and never told a soul...I think my pa knew all along about it...for I believed he had it too. As I stared through. I noticed two men holding my pa, each one by the arm. About four or five more stood around. And at that moment, they’d began beating on him. I wanted to do something! But I couldn’t. Then there was the sound of footsteps coming towards him.”

Hellen paused, her fingers tightening on her knee. “A man with a scottish accent began talking to him. He’d explained about how he’d knew all about my pa. Of him being an assassin, the one who was “the Cormac bane of the templar rite”. I discovered later that my pa was a key figure in the fall of the American Rite after Grand Master Tweed’s arrest back in’63 and before and beyond that. The man also taunted my pa, saying that...he knew of my pa’s  family legacy. How he knew that my pa was the last known guardian of the relic ring that belonged to Captain Kidd. He also knew of me. He mocked saying “Typical of the assassins to now place the burden of your creed upon children. What a damn shame.” My father then made the boldest statement I’ve ever heard, “You’ll never grab her will, nor of the people McGriffon. The people of this nation, including my daughter are mavericks*...” 

*Authors Note*

Maverick is a term, usually referring to cattle, for an animal that does not carry a brand. In the period of the United States open range, such animals were relatively common.  

“... they are meant to be unbranded, free from the enslavement of any false ideals that aren't associated with the Lord Almighty. Take your father of understanding and rot in hell.” My father was then beaten up pretty badly for that. I was stunned eve, hearing my father making bold remarks like that. Then the man, McGriffon, he took the revolver to my father’s temple and asked again where the piece of Eden was. When pa didn’t answer, McGriffon was stroll around and said, “It be a damn shame is something happens to that “maverick” daughter of yours. She would of made a suitable wife to someone of grand statures...” My father then uttered, “No one touches my daughter!” From what Collin examined later when he...”

Hellen found a stray tear sliding down, yet she’d dared not to cry in front of this man she only knew for a couple of weeks. “McGriffon placed the colt in the back of my father’s left shoulder and recited “riposare in pace” there was a loud bang...” He hands began to shake. Jack took Hellen’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Jack had a sense of rage towards this McGriffon. He mocked the creed before killing Jeremiah. This man is almost to Starrick’s rank of cruelty. Jack thought.

Hellen continued. “I was underneath where my father was placed. And as I waited until the sound of the footsteps of the men left, I remember, feeling a stream of hot blood spilling through the cracks of the wood floor. I knew then, that it was my pa’s. So I crawled back and up into the parlor, and there I found him. My father. The commander and veteran of the cruel civil war, murdered...shot in the back of...”

“We can stop there if you need to.” Jack’s interruption caught Hellen off guard. She looked to see her hand gripping his so tight that it caused Hellen’s bandages to come undone. Hellen let his hand go and traced her left ear. 

“Sorry...it’s just...I never really...only Collin heard this story...”

“Seems like this Collin means so much to you.” Jack asked in an analyzed look upon his face.

Hellen wasn’t sure what he’d meant at first, until she’d understood a second later. “Oh God No! Collin Anderson and my father served together in the war. He’s my godfather. Why?” Hellen raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “You suddenly...”

“No.” Jack turned again to the city, staring coldly. “No...I...I now have a better understanding that...you...we...had been though the same horrors of hell.”

As Hellen was about to continue, when Jack placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t, have to finish the story tonight.”

Hellen didn’t say another word. She only looked out of the horizon, scotching herself closer to Jack. “The city...it has a beauty to it. But I’m sure it’s nothing like London to you.”

“I never notice the city at night.” Jack said coldly.

Hellen looked up into the sky. “Obviously you’ve never known the constellations at night time. It’s funny really. My pa and I used to have there “Confessions on the roof. My pa always said, “When theres not a church near by, the stars in the blanket of night are the original Sistine Chapel.” to which I agreed. There so many countless stars that you swear that some adramida or constellation has it’s own story.”

 Both assassins sat upon the rood for what seemed like hours. Hellen’s eyes began to take weight from exhaustion from the days events. Her tired head was placed upon Jack’s shoulder. He gasped silently feeling the weight; but he didn’t brush her off, only watched her for a bit. When she’d began to shift in her sleep, Jack carefully placed one hand on her shoulder and the other to support her head. He lowered the sleeping woman upon his lap, even if he was uncertain on why he did it. But seeing Hellen sleeping in such a peaceful matter gave him a curiosity about her. For she looked of that of Sleeping Beauty or Snow White stories from the Grimm Brothers volumes of stories. 

Jack touched a stray curl from Hellen’s head. He could tell how silky it must of felt. Yet he’d never fully touched a woman’s hair without force for killing or any rational reason. Taking off his leather gloves, Jack traced his callused and bruised fingers through Hellen’s auburn hair. He never realized how lovely it looked in the moonlight, like that of dark blood with magic light glowing. Her skin glowed with old sweat and youthfulness for a quarter of a century year old woman. He’d traced a stray curl onto his large index finger, and yucked it into Hellen’s torn right ear. The ear Jack noticed that Hellen always seemed to hide or touch when the subject of her father came up. 

What Happened to you Hellen? He’d asked in his thoughts, tracing along the torn edges, making Hellen shutter in his lap. When he’s withdrawn, Hellen relaxed again in his lap. Jack lightly stroke her head, looking down. “I think...I think I’m falling for you.” Jack whispered, yet his tone was a hybrid of doubts and certainty.

Jack and hellen sat for another few hours. Jack thought again about his past and of his goal back in London, yet something is pinning him down. When his eyes too began to become heavy, Jack took Hellen into his arms and he gently climbed through the opened window into the living room, went into Hellen’s bedroom and placed her upon the bed and covered her with a blanket. As he’d took himself to leave, he saw upon the dresser window an old photograph of a photograph of a Union soldier in uniform. He was wearing a Army Calvary Commander’s uniform with a brace that seemed too familiar to any assassin. His face looked strong and determined. He had a bit of a five o’clock shadow going on his face at the time, yet never diminished his handsome face. Jack could only guess that this man was Hellen’s father. He was drawn to learn more about him; for some reason in his mind, the name put together, Jeremiah Patterson, seemed very familiar somehow.

Jack quietly shut the door behind, removed his shirt and collapsed onto the couch where he’d fallen asleep. Somehow, the space felt incomplete without the head weight upon his body.

[louvurs]

GET HER OUTFIT HERE: grey waffle knit sweater + black skinny jeans

[bigleaguestew]

#WhatDiMaggioDidToday