#syn closed

[seamus-tiernan]

restless » gwen & seamus

It used to be Bruno’s office. It still feels like his and that has less to do with the respect he has for Gwen and more to do with years spent inside there four walls watching a man protect his own. The raid on Left Blank is nothing that could be saddled on her shoulders with blame. They all knew retaliation would be a missile heading straight for them. And now they knew their strengths, their numbers, their Corinthian. Now they could be better prepared and Seamus feels the weight of the handgun strapped to his side as a reminder of that.

He sits in a small chair across from hers at the desk where she’s set herself like some graceful jungle cat - beautiful of course but there’s no mistaking the strength in her arms, the danger flickering to life in her eyes. She isn’t a woman to be crossed. “What’s our next step?” he asks, taping the rubber end of his cane lightly upon the carpet with a dull thud.

[devouringbeast-blog]

It’s the night of Cal’s death all over again. Only this time the pressure on his chest making it hard to breathe is less from guilt and likely from collapsing lungs. He can’t say with any certainty, only that there’s blood in his mouth, blood on his hands, and he can barely work the phone when there’s blackness crowding in the edge of his vision. Lia’s lying close by, and maybe the only comfort he has is that she’s still breathing, even if her eyes are closed. He can’t say the rest of his family is still alive or safe, or if there are more bodies somewhere he can’t see and can’t save. He can’t even save himself, and if that means he should be calling for help it’s not the name he presses his thumb down on, quiet pleas in his head to just pick up. “Charlie?”

[runaway-hall]

Warmer Climate || Eli & Charlie

It’s been a quiet birthday, but Charlie has no complaints. She had considered calling up a few friends, her family in the Syndicate and going out for dinner, or even drinks. But Bruno still looms over them like a shadow, his corpse cooling in the earth but there isn’t rest of his children. They’re all still searching for who put that bullet in the back of his head and none of them would move on until they dealt justice, revenge. It seemed inappropriate to her to create some sort of festivity when people are still in mourning. When she is.

But she still received phone calls and visits. A few friends sent well wishes and Seamus stopped by for breakfast after the Mass he tried to convince her to attend with him. It’s the one thing she doesn’t miss about her mother, the hounding for Sunday Catholic Mass.

The rest of her birthday had been spent the way she desired, quiet and relaxing. The only moment she left the house had been to walk to the closest small bakery to buy herself a few cupcakes. And whether she ends up eating them all, she wouldn’t complain tonight about the stomach ache. Bare feet pad along the wooden floor quietly as she takes a large bite of the funfetti cupcake with bright blue icing, fitting for the occasion. Her living room has a collection of movies that are calling her name, the perfect end to her birthday.

[seamus-tiernan]

Seamus is a patient man. But now now. Wednesday would mark the one week anniversary of Bruno’s burial, but burying the body hadn’t provided any closure. Not for the deceased’s long-time friend. He wants revenge. He wants blood on his hands as whoever did this screams, cries, and begs for mercy. He wants death as retribution, wants to carve penance from someone’s flesh. But all he has is a cigarette between his fingers as he watches tourists pass by, taking in the odd sights Venice has to offer. It’s too chilly for the beach, but it never deters the colder climate tourists from trying. But the figure he approaches him isn’t a gaggle of giggly blondes or a steroid-pumped musclehead looking for the dumbbell playground. It’s someone he knows. “You better have good news.”