#ofvolatile

[repentulant]

🔒 closed starter for taylan // @ofvolatile 📍 back at redstone bar, 1:31 a.m.

⁑ as a part of his newfound path to 'goodness', santi has been avoiding taylan– which isn't easy to do to someone you've known most of your life. but tonight is full of exceptions & he's just found out about the body from someone outside of the bar. he hopes, prays, that it isn't someone he knows— but the odds of that in red creek are slim - to - none. he has to at least eliminate the yalçınkaya twins from the list of possibilities.

through all of his panic, he's a little breathless when he finally spots taylan. he reaches out for his shoulder, ❝ tay— ❞ he pants, taking a moment to thank whoever upstairs when he sees taylan is still at the bar, ❝ have you heard ? someone just told me they found a body on norwood street— and with daniela's thing . . . ah, we gotta find sel. ❞

[horrorphase]

…                      he already knew the answer, already knew that taylan might be capable of terrible violence, but he wasn't a killer. or at least that was the wish of someone who yearned to clear the dust off old photographs, nostalgic for a time when they were still young together, never quite innocent but still boyishly unaware of the slow decay of their flesh and bones. but a lot could have changed with taylan in the last seven years, couldn't ignore that the slaughter had only now began with his return, couldn't ignore that he was wearing the mask donned by who he believed to be the killer ⸻ and there was no room for the ache of childhood memories when blood had been spilled, only objectivity. he needed to know. he needed to know. he needed to know. but kieran still cared for taylan enough to go straight to the source of his worries. the desire for truth led him to worse places and worse choice before, but someone was dead and it was already well past curfew by the time he was hoisting himself up over the window sill, the edge biting into the curve of his palms, leaving shallow dents that should fade by sunrise. kieran moved with urgency, before some cop on patrol could notice him, wedging him in : uncomfortably contorting his long and wiry body, one leg first, then the rest, until his grip faltered and gravity took its chance. the room's darkness and the streetlight outside blurred as he tumbled forward, landing in a graceless heap on the hardwood floor, the thud echoing sharply. and for a split second, kieran just laid there, dazed and breathless, staring at the ceiling as if it had wronged him. but he was already pushing himself up on one elbow, muttering a string of curses ( and a prayer that the noise wouldn't wake selin ) under his breath, when his vision finally adjusted and caught sight of taylan, a smile tugging on his lips ⸻ sweet and verging on a laugh because, of course, taylan would still be awake. kieran could barely remember a time when he had fallen asleep before midnight. but this wasn't a time for reminiscing, quickly reminded by why he was here in the first place. and kieran was nothing if not honest. “ i saw the boogeyman tonight. wearing the same mask as you. chased after him for blocks and blocks. and he wouldn't have done that if he was just some guy wearing a costume .... ” said as he pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the dust from his jeans with a feigned casualness that felt hollow. he shifted his weight and leaned back against the wall, the cool plaster biting through his thin shirt, grounding him in this surreal moment. “ was it you ? ” gaze cast on taylan, it'snothimit'snothimit'snothim, but kieran just needed to hear it from him for his own peace of mind. “ i don't think you're a killer. so, tell me you're not. ” @ofvolatile

[repentulant]

✦       ⌢      dedicated   to   @ofvolatile's   taylan    𓂂 ✦       ⌢      ＠   town   hall,    just   after   the   reveal    𓂂

                      who   would   do   this   ?   the   question   hangs   heavily   above   the   heads   of   everyone   in   attendance.   as   he   watches   confusion   morph   to   fear,   then   progress   onto   something   angrier,   he   knows   one   thing:   they're   going   to   get   it   wrong.   with   a   move   that   is   textbook   juvenile,   red   creek   pd   will   try   to   place   blame   on   one   of   the   infamous   insurgents   in   the   town.   but   santi   knows   those   people,   knows   them   because   he   used   to   be   them—   &   most   of   all,   knows   that   they   wouldn't   do   that.   ❝   they're   about   to   start   a   fuckin'   manhunt,   aren't   they   ?   ❞

[horrorphase]

ꜜ ﹙ 💳  ﹚ ﹕ from the very first time he tasted it, francis had always sought out trouble⸻ a way to catch the attention of those supposed to look after him at first, until it became much more primal than that. he didn't want it for the chaos itself, but for the way it made him feel alive ﹕ heart hammering in the kind of rhythm that reminded him there was blood in his veins, something sharp and hot and real. there was truth to friction, a clarity to standing too close to a breaking edge, and francis had spent half of his life testing the boundaries of that feeling. wondering how far he could lean into the heat before it burned him whole. and places like this were always ripe of the possibilities, the dancefloor a breeding ground of vices and mistakes, a pulsing thing of sweat, sound, and shadow. and yet, francis' attention was only locked— hooked, really— on someone that looked like trouble personified⸻ a scowl carved deep into a face that begged to be either shattered or worshipped under these seizure-bright strobing lights. “ that's one hell of a scar you've got there. ” francis said as he approached, raising his voice just enough to slip through the wall of sound, words came like they'd been dipped in something slow and sticky, deliberate. his lips curved into a smirk, the kind that asked for trouble because trouble was all he'd come here to find ﹕ but not exactly opposed to whatever else he might discover, especially now with a closer look. “ looks like it hurt like hell. it's kinda hot, though. y'know people love broken things. ” takes one to know one. gaze traced the jagged line along taylan's throat, lingering a little too long, mesmerized by how it almost glimmered faintly in the light, pale and uneven, standing out stark against his skin. then, his gaze dragged back up, searching for taylan's eyes, a thinly-veiled challenge in his expression. “ mind if i touch it ? ” the question slipped out like it was his right to ask, like he was already halfway there in his head, imagining his fingers trailing over the line of it. “ heard the dead girl also got her throat slit, but hers didn't get to heal like yours. ” @ofvolatile

[ichorstained]

with : taylan @ofvolatile where : idk somewhere when : after questioning

"listen ... i heard someone told the police you started the bar fight ... that may or may not have been me. just to be clear -- do you? y'know, start it? "

[lunarficial]

🔒 closed starter for taylan / / @ofvolatile 📍 outside of dolly's diner.

☾ target. located. at least, that's what her brain supplies when she spots taylan walking ahead of her. she'd love to say she's very calm, cool, and collected about seeing him– but there's a little uptick in her heart rate as she approaches. ( to her, this is a fun game of cat & mouse. to him, this very well may be the worst part of his day. ) ❝ taylan ! ❞ she cheers when she catches up, friendly smile on her lips. ❝ i thought that was you. ❞ hana glances over her shoulder, looking for a way to reel him in for a moment; checks an internal box when she realizes how close they are to dolly's. ❝ can i buy you a coffee ? ❞