#thesw0rd

[flytrcps]

with: @thesw0rd where: the solstice apartments when: march 19th, 1997

"Can you come fix this pipe rattling around in my apartment? It's almost louder than my television and it's getting really fucking annoying." The little basement apartment was up to its eyes in Willa's decorum without the cling-clanging of the quivering pipe that was holding up their showerhead in the bathroom. Ivy marched into Dominic's apartment without further question, comment, and without an ask to come in — perhaps, the singular person on the planet doomed to their presence like he had adopted a stray cat into his home. Plopping herself down on the couch, she unhooked a safety pin from the hole in her tights, fidgeting with it to try to wedge the gap to a hairline fracture with the security of the pin alone. "What are you watching? It looks boring." ( Mind that they hadn't been in the apartment for more than five minutes, up to this point. ) Sinking back into the cushions, they added, "My telly is stuck on the fucking news channel, talking up that wedding that's happening tomorrow. I think the remote might be broken, actually." Ivy generously omitted that the damage was likely their own from whacking it against the bedside table in an effort to make the flimsy, battery-powered thing work consistently. "Are you going to that? The wedding."

[devilsons]

new years day, the vitelli estate, post onslaught with @thesw0rd

He waited until most of the others had filtered out, sunken into the couch in the living room, elbow on the armrest, staring blankly into the unlit fireplace. Thinking, he was thinking, trying to find a way out of the mess, to figure out what the next steps could possibly be, how to get his family to come around, to make them understand the stakes. With that there were frustratingly too many questions to which he has yet to find the answers; primarily the big two, who and why? What caused the people that tore their way into the estate to do what they did, and more aptly why decapitate their soldiers? Who killed Augustu, what sort of foul play was at hand and for what end?

These things would take time, perhaps that was the most irritating of all. He couldn't work off of no information, couldn't justify certain things. There were obvious motives for of all this but he couldn't assume it was any one of them. Money, power, pride, vengeance, fuck, even just for fun he would take at this point. Endless, low whispers and cries having surrounded him all day, violence and chaos and pain. It was suffocating.

Then, like a light, a brief reprieve; the face of someone he knows isn't going to cry, isn't going to plead with him. Around the corner comes Dominic Reid, a soldier to his battalion, built like a shit brick house with the fighting skills to match. He'd been filled in a bit about the other things that happened in the house while he was trapped in the hellscape of the Don's bedroom, when he heard whispers of what Dom had been up to he actually found the corners of his lips curling towards a smile.

Francisco wasn't a man known for giving praise, but no good deed should go unnoticed, especially if it was the only good fucking news of the day. He turns towards him, a dark glint in brown eyes when he says, "Well, if it isn't the man of the hour. I heard you smeared some kid across the floor, Reid. It's good that someone did something productive today."