#whitedecadence

[invarietas]

starter for-! // @whitedecadence | genesis

" 'the wandering soul knows no rest...' " how fascinatingly relatable!

" ' infinite in mystery ' it says? perhaps sadism is the driving force..."

[devilreno]

Remind me what I pay you for. The list seems to be getting shorter every day.

@whitedecadence

       For AT LEAST not dying during missions.

[rp-jenova]

RP - White New World

@whitedecadence 

“For months my head rested on your lap. Perhaps you hoped I wouldn’t remember you? Dear White President, tut tut. When Kadaj inserted me, my first thought went out to...

“... who~, you think?”

[devilreno]

"Look, I will PAY you to leave me alone for 72 hours. Deal?"

@whitedecadence

       HAH. It worked. An endless loop of bothering each other.

       “How much?”  the amount is IMPORTANT.

[devilreno]

@whitedecadence

       “Can ya at least throw me shade at Costa del Sol?”

[returningrodturk]

Crawling out from the Slums

It was never Rod's intention to return to this place but again and again he the man kept finding himself back here. It was as if Fate herself was testing his luck-. In the years of absence exiled Turk had managed to shed the name 'Rod' and return to the days of just 'Alvis' taking up work fixing up motorcycles or selling scrap parts. Keeping his head low was easier when he was far this place.

Expression turning grim as he felt 'ghost pains' of old wounds recalling hard battles where he and his old partners should have died had Lady Luck not been on their side. Lady Luck was always a bit of a flirt when it came to the auburn haired individual- Always abandoning him on the small little things but choosing to favor him when the Reaper turns the corner to him.

The ex Turk stepped out from the shadows of tall worn buildings around him and into dimmed light- the clouds causing wonder if it would rain later. Blue eyes lowered from the skies and soon fixated on a figure he recognized all too well. Gaia- he hoped Lady Luck was here on his side as he saw whom he could consider his personal Reaper- President Rufus Shinra. Alvis shifted uncomfortably. He was feeling extremely under-dressed not wearing his suit in the presence of Rufus, even as an 'Ex-Turk" of…how many years now? Either way- This meeting was entirely unexpected- or was it?

Alvis reluctantly accepted a job to pick up some run down motorcycle in the area- the location was Turks jurisdiction and one he avoided in most cases but the money for the job was good and Alvis was always eager on the prospect of possibly finding new parts to up his own projects. Granted none of his current builds would compare to what he would have been able to throw together if he still worked directly for the company and wasn't a ghost of a Turk whom both Veld and Director Tseng reached out to on rare occasions with orders. Although the Director had continuously told Rod that he would always be a Turk those same feelings were not shared amongst many of the others within ShinRa-

The President was the one he had the hardest time to read when it came to him. In past crossings the president would find more use to Rod being alive than dead; Or at least he didn't want to waste a bullet on ghosts of the pasts. What changes have occured for the president since. Rod's body straightened up but still had a sort of 'casual' sense to it as he took one step forward to the man adorned in white. There was no way his presence was not detected as he wasn't very discreet in his return.

"One look, one word, and suddenly I'm right back where I started, trapped in this never-ending cycle." Words finally slipped out from Rod's lips his eyes fixated of the man he would always consider his superior no matter how much time passed.

[invarietas]

004.   kiss hand - for Ardyn? (With eternal affection, from Gen. <33) @whitedecadence​

he is fractal- splintered in ways no cartographer could ever chart. long has he lost the thread of who he used to be; failing to match any ephemeral recollection with the image that greets him each time he passes a reflective surface. 

the face is not his, yet is. is familiar yet strange, and all too often does he find himself embroiled in his own head- separate as he is from his initial, astral given purpose.

this world was new, and saturated with magic far and beyond his own mana-less realm. his first scourged victim elderly, from a grunged metal city with a plate for a sky. he’d wandered, found various jobs with those who couldn’t care less whether he remembered the date or their faces from yesterday.

           ( he usually did. it was not always this bad. )

made a sort of life, blending with others wearing piecemeal garments. ambition did not touch him until he awoke to himself, as himself.

had met a soul of fire, with abilities that made his pulse quicken and his lips smile for the first time in what seemed an age. spoke eloquence as if he were royalty himself, tending within adagium a flame of fondness--

                           ( he is lost today )

pulls him back with a gentle grip upon their walk of streets less cluttered with filth, bewildered gold riveting upon that particular shade of emerald ice (too new, too new, where am i?), frantic thoughts slowing gradually - from jackrabbit to crawl, and his heart yet beats the former.

“genesis...” a breath, and perhaps a new beginning. the name a herald of change, as much as a plea to return to what is known.

                                           ( he is known. his poet. )

“i am sorry...” and truly, he is. tone mournful, for how could he have gotten so lost? 

                            “it’s alright now.                                             ...what were you saying~?”

[saengjonja]

" what do you make of this ? "

The dark-haired Turk approaches, picking up a decorative cardstock envelope.

"Oh- It's because of the New Year. See this symbol? That's supposed to be a rabbit, it's very auspicious. Rabbits are considered the luckiest animal sign out of the entire zodiac, it's symbolism that Wutai shares with my homeland. But these ones in particular... are usually used to hold offerings like money."

He lets that sink in for a moment, opening the parcel.

"This one's empty, not even a note. If it's from the current powers that be in Wutai at present, it's a message: Basically, spitting in Shinra's face. They probably got some crusty ol' shaman inhaling hallucinogenic smoke and speaking in tongues back there, telling them that the year of the rabbit is their time to strike back and end the cease fire."

It was a bold move, he had to admit. But superstitions and rattling animal bones wasn't going to save Wutai from being occupied by a foreign powerhouse. It'd be like Haneul all over again, just like all the other minor nations that stood up to Shinra's disgustingly impressive military might.

"So, the ball's in your old man's court now. But if you were running the show, I'd imagine this wouldn't be a slight you'd take lying down. Would it?"