#varyation

[ingolds-archived]

@varyation. — “ you almost had me for a moment. ”

“ ah, did i? ” theo replies, as if it wasn't his intention to mislead the man. the mischievous crook to their mouth certainly gives them away, but they can't resist the urge to gloat - just a smidge. they've become rather skilled at only loosing half-truths and keeping people mostly in the dark; doing so had kept them distant and safe from the too-curious observation of humans. they were frightfully easy to convince. to pull the wool over the eyes of someone so aware and intelligent, though?

they count it as a victory. a well-earned one, even if it's rude to celebrate it.

“ my apologies, then. is it too late for you to believe anything i say? ”

bury me whole / accepting

[prvtocol]

@varyation : "maybe it’s time to take a leap of faith ." // mobius | ᵗʰᵉ 𝑫𝑼𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑻𝑶𝒀𝑩𝑶𝑿 . ( accepting!! )

“I’m quite comfortable here on the edge, thank you.” Nose is scrunched as if air fragrant with the pink blooms on the surrounding terraces suddenly gained a foul stench with the agent’s unexpected presence. Despite her habitually welcoming demeanor, Brianne is unabashed to give him a sweeping inspection, overtly questioning how he could be here of all places — a table on the terrasse of a small Parisian cafe, claiming the empty seat opposite her as his own. 

“How did you? Ah, never mind.” Hand shoos the air, killing her query with it. Of course, the CIA is keeping tabs on one deemed a weak link and ripe for folding to the whims of their case. But whatever they make of her, intent is to give him nothing but a cold shoulder. 

On the table sits her beige Hermes bag, a half-empty cup of tea, and a white porcelain plate upon which is a perfectly shaped and untouched croissant freshly baked that morning. As if a parting gift (and since her time to enjoy the ambiance has come to a certain end), she pushes the plate to his side of the table. The same hand then grabs her bag as she stands to make her departure. “Bon appétit, Agent Mobius. Enjoy Pa-ree.”

[vindicain]

“ maybe i'd like to see you. the real you. ” ✖ horror themed starters

“ that's a nice idea, ” cain drawls, peering at him from beneath drooping eyelids. everything is a performance for him - an actor striding across the stage, hand over his heart, lines recited loud and bold for the audience to gasp aloud at. becoming someone new had been a matter of survival for him. without living as a chameleon, they surely would not have made it as far as they had.

either he would be dead, or he would be locked away in the bowels of a prison, never to see the sun or the sky with his own eyes. the idea still shivers down his spine, rattles deep and quaking in his bones.

“ there is no real me. he isn't around anymore. ” they flash white teeth in an assured grin. the admittance is an easy one. “ what you see now is all you're going to get. ”

@varyation