"There's no victory in making someone kneel against their will." [ Cult Geto <3 ]
The leadership counsel keep their lips sewn shut. The tension lay thick in the air, and the deafening silence rang within its four walls. All eight members hold their breath-- doing their best to control any movement with their stiff, inflexible bodies.
The 9th member, the Publics Relations Manager Aoi Suzuki, grits her teeth. Suzuki is the only member standing, just as Master Geto asked, and she doesn't bear to look at him. Her eyes fixate on the wooden table in front of her. Beads of sweat gather on her patchy black hairline.
"Answer me, Suzuki." Geto's voice remains firm and composed. A sneer pulls taught at the corner of his lips, mocking any sense of safety and hope. His hand reaches into his yukata, seeking for something important.
"If these carefully, tactfully written letters aren't from you -" Suguru removes small stack of handwritten letters from his attire, then tosses them in front of him. Several pages slide across the conference table, some almost flitter in the wind. "Then who? Who else would tarnish the name of our tranquil abode. Why would anyone speak ill will of our liberated community? Isn't it our job to unshackle the masses, not push them away." Suguru's tone morph into a form of malignent playfullness. "Spoiling our heavenly mission -...hmm....I would say - fall under the guise of treason, would it not?"
Suguru's words sharply ring in Aoi's ears. They echoe in the corners of her mind like an ominous beating drum. She was - in fact - stealthily warning the public of Geto's cult. Suzuki has valuable connections to the media and other public outlets, an advantage Geto sought to exploit. As a result, Suzuki was personally hired by Geto to gather more lost souls to freedom. While her networking skills proved itself useful to him, but she couldn't stand by and watch people die any longer. Her guilty consciousness ate away at her psyche and health. Compliance was the flame swallowing her whole.
A devoted follower pretended to be Aoi's next business partner. A secret few that Geto has chosen to spy on other members. Suzuki told them to keep away from the group, occasionally sending a letter or two explaining why. Her aggregious mistake revealed her true intentions to Master Geto himself, and now her foolishness was coming at a price. Possibly her own life.
Suguru leans forward, resting his chin on his on his palm. Eyebrows crease harshly in a macabre display of intent, and a cold- unrelenting stare glues onto Aoi. This threatening ear to ear grin remains. "Well....?" He asks, his words icy enough to chill bones.
The 8 members glance at one another from across the table. Pupils shrink, but otherwise, eyes remain the same. All sit statuesque to avoid becoming involved in the scene. All but their visitor, a pink haired, gentle, sweet voiced woman who had the honor to sit beside Master Geto. Without her, Master Geto would sit alone at the end of the long rectangular conference table.
Suzuki's clammy skeletal palms held onto the seat, resting beside her. Shallow breath work against the pounding heart hitting her chest. Speak...speak.speak.speak idiot speak!! she thinks. Her anxiety held its grip on her stuttering voice and shaky emaciated lips. Tears well up by the mild crows feet wrinkling at the corner of her eyes. Aoi's knees grow weaker and weaker.
"I-I'm sorry!!" She cries. "Master Geto. I-I was lost!! Lost!! I didn't know wh-what I was thinking. I'm so stupid. I'm an idiot. My f-flame - Yeah!" Aoi's petite, delicate body drops to the ground. She gets on her knees and kneels low enough for her nose to press against the hardwood floor.
"M-My ailment. It's the fire. The fire w-was consuming me. M-My thoughts. Free me Master G-Geto. I promise, it won't b-be left unchecked again. I swear to you." Tears escape her nose, making her sniffle in between her words.
The cult leader's smile only pulled tighter at her display of remorse. His full menacing teeth reveal themselves for all to witness. A distorted sense of joy triggers his nerves as adrenaline pushes its way into his blood. Aoi's distress and her suffering were purely gratifying.
"Yes. Snuffing out those treasonous flames. I can do that for you, Aoi" Suguru mocks. "Any potential flame that threatens our community deserves to be smothered. For all of us."
Suguru raises his free hand and extends his open palm to face her. The moment he was about to summon a curse spirit, he feels a warm firm weight on his shoulder. He looks at the corner of his eye and sees Maeve with her hand on him. Despite the conference's unsettling foreboding energy, Maeve demeanor remains calm and helpful. The light of his soul sat beside him. How could Geto forget about her presence? Did he completely neglect the possibility of his sunshine witnessing the worst of him? Still, Maeve's warmth reels him in, presence alone with power to ground him.
Suguru begrudgingly closes his palm to a fist. A low, grumpy growl hums at his throat.
"Aoi's treason isn't to be taken lightly, however, I feel merciful today. So I ask all of you to kneel. Kneel if you seek to prove your loyalty me. My mercy is limited, so I challenge you not to spoil this rare opportunity."
A chorus of abrupt, chaotic, shuffling changes the atmosphere. Power and control was still at the forefront, but the tension and weariness from the other members morph into panic. Each of them follow Aoi's example. They scramble to their knees, palms face down above their heads, noses press against the floor.
A memory plays in Suguru's mind. Earlier within the week, Maeve had entered his study. She approached him and said, "There's no victory in making someone kneel against their will." With her words playing in his mind, he whispers to Maeve,
"This here, observe. Would you not call this a victory?"
There was just.. so much blood. And so many dead cursed spirits (which she still denied being able to see). With only one person present, she can only assume he's hurt!
Without hesitation, she's moving towards him. A med pack slung over her shoulder looking a touch bewildered by the onslaught of sanguine splashed across the vicinity. "Are you hurt?" Came a soft voice from behind him. No fear present, but a healthy caution kept her somewhat distanced from him. Sunset eyes drinking in his unusual attire with brows lifted in concern.
narrowed eyes glance around at the aftermath of the "fight" that had only just transpired. if one could even call it that. it was an easy enough bunch to take care of. but the constant uprising of these cursed spirits everywhere he went, kept him occupied. one down, however many left to go.
but its the sound of a humans voice that makes him take pause. he turns to face the girl & eyes the equiment strapped to her person. a med. that should'nt be here. he ignores the question directed to him, & instead, takes steps away as he retracts his scattered blood. ( keeping sure to leave it out of her sight. )
❛ This is no place for you to hang around. Leave. ’
Maeve hesitantly reached out; timid, and uncertain of her own movements. Fingers inching towards the strange stitching along his visage. Her eyebrows gently lifted, firm under the tension of her form. A mixture of intrigue for this strange spirit, and concern for her own safety all mingled into one.
"D-do they hurt?" She questioned meekly. Sunset orbs dancing along their structures and how they accentuate his features. The dual colored orbs somehow feeling more threatening than the whole of his body, further amplifying the marks to her.
One small touch, if allowed. A slight recoil, and short gasp; flinched, like she expected him to retaliate. But if he didn't -- she may brave another breath of contact. A light, gentle trace to feel for the inconsistencies that are often associated with scars.
Eyes watch her. A hint of curiosity blossoming in them. Her soul was guarded, literally so. Making her intriguing in his eyes. Normally the soul was out and accessible. Yet, he thought, even if he touched her, he might not be able to fully grasp it. What a strange girl.
"Hmm?" He questioned, looking down to where she was attempting to touch his arm. "Oh. How unusual, no one's ever asked me that before." Instead of shying away he actually lifts it towards her touch. Chuckling at the first instance she pulls back from and allowing the second, more intrusive, trace to the stitching.
"No more than your eyes hurt in their sockets." He hummed. "It's just how humanity put me together. Piece by piece, bit by bit." Her light touch tickles a little, in fact. Causing little prickling in his skin akin to goosebumps. "Oh my, would you look at that..."
"Excuse me--" He wasn't like them. Didn't have the look of the monsters that lurked outside of humanity's view. He looked human. Stitched with what she thinks are heterochromatic eyes. But human, no less. Her heart felt heavy with a rise in tension. Like something deep down told her the choice to approach was a bad one. "Are you hurt?" Concern warmed her words like honey softened beneath sunlight. Eyes bright, reminiscent of a sunset equally beautiful and relaxing.
Nothing about her seemed off. Another human stumbled into the spiders web wholly unaware of the danger she had immediately placed herself in. Yet despite that, she seemed genuinely concerned for his well being.
[ For Mahito :D ]
Indeed, silver and deepest blue eyes follow her gaze. Looking beside himself before truly realizing that it's him she's speaking to. "You're able to see me?" He questioned with a gentle purr. "How lovely." Normally those that saw him were sorcerers. Was this one? He usually was attacked not concerned about when it came to them, so was this just an ordinary human?
Mahito stood up fully from his squatting position. Looking himself over and realizing there was a bit of blood on his hands and loose fitting shirt. "Oh, thank you for your concern, but it's not mine." Said with a smile sweet as saccharine. "You're very kind." But her soul shivered. "I'm Mahito, what's your name, my dear?"
A night on the town, and a few pranks gone sideways (in a good way) would eventually find them back at Loux' little abode. She had promised to be quick about getting cleaned up so they could go back out, but when she appears again -- she's not wearing her clothes anymore.
---She's wearing his.
His shirt was likely big enough that she could wear it like a short dress, but she's got his pants on as well with messy curls bundled up in a fussy bun against the back of her head. "Yeah so ~" Arms folded about her small frame with a sheepish look to the side. Her cheeks a gentle hue of pink against the light scattering of freckles, "I had to wash them a bit more and... now they need to dry. So.. I hope you don't mind."
"I can see tha'," he hummed playfully, lofting a brow and grinning like a fiend.
She'd gotten herself wrapped up in one of his more wizardy garments after a shower, swaths of gold-threaded crimson hanging off her in a wholly complimentary manner; It accentuated her hair, her eyes, contrasting with her skin tone, making her seem the setting sun personified, in soft human form - he'd say it looked far better on her than it ever did him, and that was with ignoring the rattier side of his brain.
"Didn' know ya knew where I kept all tha'. Look acha, gettin' 'round," he went on to tease, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "Why 'on'cha keep it, huh?" Oh, yes, he would tell her quite plainly. "Looks way better on you. Gives ya a lil glow, yanno? Like a whole different side t' th' sun."
Terrible with words. Oh well.
He'd been waiting on her for only a short while, and much as he'd like to swarm the girl, show her exactly what he thought, they still had places to go and things to see. Stormy gray lingered over her for a time, flitting about between those sunsetty eyes and the bun of her curls, freckles, how his clothes conformed to the shape of her body and added to existing beauty, how she blushed and crossed her arms and-- Had her clothes not been going through the wash process, he'd have thought she'd done this on purpose, but she wasn't exactly flirting with him, and her clothes were very much going through the laundry. Hmm. A few thoughts coming to him all at once, but he decided to shuffle them away for later and simply express his approval.
"Seriously, s'cool. Was cool before ya said anythin'. 'm not difficult 'bout things like tha'. 'Sides, now ya got clothes fer when yer 'ere, eh?"
"What truth exactly?" He responded dryly, not quite liking the demand and lack of decorum in her tone. It bordered insubordination, while she was new here, she should know by now how to correctly address people according to their rank. But apparently, she was a slow learner.
'We've provided you with a job, a home, community and safety. And your contribution in return is to call me a liar? Well...' He said very calmly, raising his eyebrow as a warning. "That's a rather unconventional approach to say the least."
lol loux. every other word out of his mouth is 'fuck' or shit'. he's got maeve beat on this one 100%, he's so vulgar. how she can deal with it is beyond me
who is more patient?
i'm going to say maeve. loux has a lot of patience, but she has even more if she can tolerate him. he's such an ass (who does horrible, horrible things), gets into trouble, mouths off and sounds like an idiot half the time- and yet. gotta be maeve.
who does the driving?
iirc maeve doesn't drive? it's all public transportation and walking, things like that, and loux is the exact same except he's also got his mirror. so between the two of them, no one's doing any driving, but how about maybe they take turns paying for public fair--
who is louder? who is quieter?
definitely loux, as the louder one. but i do imagine maeve getting giddy and excited about all the things and loux being on the quieter side on some occasions, since he sometimes plays an observer when on outings or dates just to get a feel for whether she's enjoying herself. hmmm. i'm gonna say 50/50 actually. all contextual.
who is more physically affectionate?
loux 100%. i don't know that i need to elaborate on this point, cos you already know he's a bit of a menace. he loves to touch, feel, kiss, and...well, hold hands, grope, dance, etcetc so he's probably always going to be touching maeve in some way. very handsy, and not always in a horny way.
who is more likely to tease the other?
maeve pulls one over on him all the time, i bet you. she's got a playful, mischievous streak in her. not to the same degree as loux, but it's there. and she gets him back for all his tricks
who is better with time management?
i'm going to say loux but only because he got lucky and has magic at his disposal. his days are always packed with all the things he's gotta do for 'work' right, but he always always makes time, schedules properly, the whole nine, and can make it work because of his little mirror and magic.
who wins the arm wrestling matches?
i'm gonna say 50/50 here. he wins some, she wins some, they both lose sometimes. loux's not a strength-oriented guy, shines best when it comes to magic and sleight of hand. arcane trickster type.
who controls the music in the car ride?
they walk everywhere or take ye olde pocket mirror, and i imagine they talk basically the whole time. at home? different story. but there's no car to play music in.
who covers dinner when they order in?
loux and he'll hear nothing about it.
who is more outgoing? who is more shy?
i think they're both pretty outgoing? or at the very least, maybe not very outwardly shy. shy in ways, but that's only a little part of it. they're both friendly and talkitive? final answer: they're both outgoing, social. maybe bashful? at times. but not retreat into the safety of my hovel shy. having a hard time articulating what i mean sksksk
who has the more outlandish fashion sense?
loux, 10000%, and i've got his wardrobe right here--
who starts the tickle fights? who ends them?
i feel like both of them would start them, but maybe loux would end them. as he does. with sloppy gross kisses like a puppy, which he kind of his now that i think about it...
who has the darker/more "edgy" sense of humor?
loux by an entire 30 miles. he's a total edgelord 99% of the time, just thinking about it makes me want to throttle him. nuke him from orbit. he's gotta tone himself down a bit cos edgy humor is OUT--
who is more competitive when it comes to games?
they're both at least somewhat competitive, so i can totally see them going ham, no holds barred, in carnival games, interactive street...events in salem's crossing or belle's hollow, at least until one of them wins the whole thing. they get to take home double prizes sometimes, i bet. in terms of video games, loux will just end up breaking the controller, not out of frustration but like. because he's genuinely that bad with technology.
who has the bigger appetite? the bigger sweet tooth?
i have no doubts they can both put away a lot of food, but loux's gonna have to take the cake here i think. he's a walking garbage disposal and will put just about anything in his mouth. relatively low appetite, but when he eats, he eats. a lot. burns through a lot of calories existing, just sitting there. sweets? i thiiiink...loux, still. the guy can put away 60 cupcakes in one sitting and will.
who is more likely to get in a confrontation in public?
loux. oh loux 100000%. if it isn't sorciers, it's some asshat who disrespected him or maeve in some way, and he is not afraid to speak his mind in any way, shape, or form. he can talk the talk and walk the walk, and there may be an occasion or two in which he proves that. he won't apologize either, it's an honor/principle thing for him.
who hosts the parties/hangouts? who organizes them?
i think they take turns setting things up but in the beginning, it's definitely loux, trying like hell to spend as much time with her as he can, and they sort of bounce ideas off of each other. like when they went out for coffee and then their trip to salem's crossing after. mhmm. it's like a game of pong and the ball they bounce between each other is date ideas sjdfksd
who is better at cooking? do they ever cook for each other?
they can both cook, but i'm going to say loux because of how nuts he is about it. homie's like, gordon ramsey the second he sets foot in a kitchen. a complete perfectionist, maybe not about methodology but certainly about the final product, so i imagine him doing a lot of cooking. but also enjoying when maeve does the same for him. 50/50 on who cooks and when, but it's definitely a both situation.
who is more likely to engage in dangerous and/or illegal behavior?
:I LOL loux.
who is more likely to notice when something is wrong with the other?
it depends, but i think they'd both be able to spot something amiss with each other relatively quickly. loux isn't as quick to solve anything that isn't physical, but he does try. i maintain that maeve is probably better at dealing with it all than he is.
who does the talking in public settings (i.e. to the waiter at a restaurant)?
50/50 on this one. i think it depends on the context. if they're in salem's crossing, or any of the nightfolk locations, then until she's sort of used to them, loux'll probably do most of the talking, for a few reasons. not to limit her or anything, but as a precautionary measure. everywhere else? i don't think it matters. they both talk and for themselves when ordering food, checking out, whatever.
who is more likely to extend a helping hand & provide emotional support?
gonna say maeve on this one. loux has his ways and yes, sometimes he does help other people with emotional things, but he's no good with his words, so it's much easier for him to physically fix a problem. maeve, on the other hand, is more sensitive to the emotional needs of others, more attuned to that in general. i think loux would be there for her 100%, but i think maeve would know best how to identify and navigate it. and be better at it.
who is the bigger prankster? do they get the last laugh or do they suffer for it?
maeve pulls one over on him all the time, i bet you. she's got a playful, mischievous streak in her. not to the same degree as loux, but it's there. and she gets him back for all his tricks. it's gotta be something of a vicious cycle between the two of them, but lots of good fun too. they get some laughs out of it, no suffering omg. unless suffering can be taken to mean something else, in which case yes maybe lots of that to everyone's chagrin--
How many times can a heart be shattered and still be pieced back together? [ Loux <3 ]
medieval warfare, lovefare, peace, and more
For once, the fox didn't have much to say on that point - thrown for a loop, hands slowing in their ardent crushing of flesh-turned-volcanic-rock, black granules coating his fingers. He couldn't afford to lose focus in the moment, lest his next batch of tungskin go awry, explode, and burn his spacial home-within-a-pocket-of-existence to nothing more than a pile of ash - and it would. Leave it to him to come up with the most volatile mixture known to nightfolk, known to every rendition of mageskin on the books, but that's what made it so good, so valuable. It took time, effort, and pain to make it, on top of the blood, sweat, and tears. Worth a few grand at least since he was the sole inventor, owned the patent and everything, but it didn't matter how much it was worth if he got distracted and fucked it up.
He continued to grind away, pestle to mortar, ignoring the fresh rawness of his right arm, each layer of his skin exposed and aching in warm air. What came to mind, however, was every instance he'd failed the people in his life, from his own parents to the Devilliers, who took him in without a second thought no matter how bad he was in the end. Grinding his own flesh into paste, thinking of the only people he knew who gave a damn about him, every time he let them down, his failure to protect them, always and ever so focused on his own life, his own choices, he couldn't stand to spare a few thinking about them and theirs. Not at the time anyway. And he was torn between feeling sorry for himself and believing he didn't deserve to - and which one was true? Which one was okay?
Which one absolved him of enough guilt to grieve?
He thought about Beau and Jackie, Silvere and Letha, Antonetta and the other guy, mom, dad, Leonie and Lucienne, adding just enough water into the dusty mix of powdered skin to turn it into a paste - pestle to mortar all over again. Yeah, how many times could a heart shatter before there weren't enough pieces to glue together? How many people could one person lose before it became too much? And maybe he took it too seriously, cut it a little too close to home - there was plenty more he'd been responsible for between the deaths of innocents caught in the middle and all the other bad shit he'd gotten up to over the course of his life.
It was just a question, right? Asked innocently in the din, before sleep could take her well and good enough into some dreamland more pleasant than his hidden hovel. Where all the bad shit she'd experienced with him couldn't beat on the drum of her waking mind; No Deadeye, no magic, no nothing. Nothing that could hurt her or give her cause for worry.
When did he become soft?
"Dunno," he said plainly, softly, swirling the pestle into the mortar in his hands until the base of his tungskin potion was a loose enough paste. "Heart's're funny tha' way. Can withstand a lotta bull, buh can shatter t' pieces at th' slightest. Wit or wit'ou'cha permission, an' def when ya don' expect it. Tha's jus 'ow tis. Best not t' think too 'ard 'bout it - runnin' yerself 'round in circles t' make sense o' somethin' tha' don' make sense'll jus make ya go nuts."
He took a deep breath, snapping his fingers to summon the flame to burn under his alembic, acids and solutions already taken care of long before it came time to harvest and prepare scorched volcanic flesh.
"Jus get some rest while ya can. Put all tha' shit outta ya mind an' sleep."
