Hesitating before gaining courage, Yuzhen asked, determined, âWhatâs your name? I can see from your suit weâre from the same organization. Thank you. You saved me. I owe you one now.â
Nice voice too.
Yelian gave the guy an onceover - now that heâd decided to stop denying himself, he might as well get an actual good look.
Normally, he would have scoffed at the whole thank you for saving me and I owe you one conversation. Why? Because first of all, it wouldnât be true. Yelian was raised and trained to kill, not to assist. He never intentionally rescued anybody, especially strangers who should mean nothing to him. Secondly, debts implied association, no matter if he was collecting or owing. Yelian couldnât allow that - connections. Even distant ones.
Today, however, he was inclined to behave differently.
âA life is a heavy debt,â Yelian said, closing the gap between them in two long strides. Reaching out and boldly grabbing Yuzhenâs wrist, he squeezed his fingers around the otherâs skin until it was likely just beginning to feel uncomfortable. âPay me back, with your body.â It was a straight forward proposition. âI collect considerable interest too, so if you intend to avoid additional charges, pay me as soon as possible.â Yelian leaned closer, his voice cold even though his body was warm. And in fact, should be more so than usual.
âAnd itâs Nightingale.â A name in exchange for a code name. Friendliness versus distance. What an interesting start to a seriously fucked up love story.
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Lifeâs been weird lately. It started with Yelian randomly passing out one day and waking up with some strange chest pain. No, calling it that would be inaccurate because he wasnât exactly hurting. His chest just felt warm, as if he was having heartburn except more...pleasant. It was difficult to describe.
He wasnât the type to see a doctor, so he carried on with his duties as normal. Other symptoms began, involving him dry gagging sometimes, after a kill. The scent of blood which typically gave him a rush now made him feel occasionally sick.
Was karma catching up to him? Maybe.
And perhaps that was why he decided to spare the prostitute.
Listen, the request demanded for a dead guy only and said nothing about the woman who was unfortunately caught underneath him. Yelian was covered from head to toe, and these days he didnât give as much of a fuck about leaving witnesses, so miss whore was destined for a lucky break.
Except she wasnât reacting as he thought she would.
âThis is where you scream and run out of the door,â he said, giving her the cue. Yelian figured maybe she was too scared to move and needed the extra prompt. Every once in a while he ran into one of those silly people. âAre you waiting for something?â She still wasnât taking off after 20 whole seconds, and he was beginning to question the existence of her survival instincts. âAre you wanting to...get paid?â He fished out the dead guyâs wallet and threw it to her. âKnock yourself out. Might be some loose change in there.â (@crivory)
âChange of plans,â he said, flashing his phone screen at the partner in crime. âApparently the client no longer want the bride dead - she wants us to mark her face with a knife instead.â
Yelian was beyond agitated. He got fucking dressed up for this mission - a whole tailored suit plus an uncomfortably tight tie. One whole hour of suffering later, he was being informed that there was a change to the plan that theyâd meticulously thought out?
âThis isnât like, ordering McDonald's. When people say they want someone dead and hire professionals, I expect them to be ready for the corpse.â At this point, he sincerely wished to turn this whole thing on the dumbass bitch whoâd made the request in the first place. Except that wouldnât really work out since though stupid, that one had wealth and influence, which apparently made up for her obvious lack of brain cells.
The cater walked by with a tray of hors dâoeuvre and Yelian waved him off before he could speak. He wasnât in the mood to smile and pretend to be a happy party guest anymore.
âAnyway, you take care of this one then. I am not drawing my knife just to cut up some chickâs face, no matter how much I am being paid.â He folded his arms. âNext thing you know, clients would be wanting us to rescue cats from trees or go to prom with their 16-years-old daughter.â ( @cr-emerald )
That was a compliment, and though not verbalized, must still be recognized for its rare nature. Yelian didnât find many people attractive to this degree and in fact, could count them all on one hand. First there was his mother, and yes, he could still vaguely recall her face despite their early separation. Second, his brother. The third brother, to be exact - the only one that he managed to feel somewhat close to. If his first pick was a biased one due maternal bond, then the second one at least would be accepted by all. His brother kept himself beautiful purposefully - a poisonous flower that has now withered because Yelian killed him four months ago.
He met his third pick as a teenager and that poor guy was bleeding out on a table, being used for a very important lesson on where best to cut to hurt somebody. They exchanged all but three sentences, and none of them were particularly pleasant.
Death was the common point between these three individuals, which did say something about Yelianâs taste. This fourth person, however, was very much alive.
They met once before on a job. While scanning their surroundings, Yelianâs eyes brushed past the manâs features. Unintentional...but then he did a double take. It was a mistake, but not one he necessarily needed to apologize for. Yelian simply said nothing and did not allow himself to look again. Desires were meant to be buried, especially his, and he was becoming better at it every day.
So why did they have to meet again? Coincidence? He believed in no such thing.
The target of the day was scrambling back, his not-so-pretty eyes focused solely on the gun in Yelianâs hand. He made ugly noises, words slurring together in a last desperate attempt. Unfortunately, his efforts only brought forth a greater wave of irritation for Yelian. Tucking the gun away, Yelian drew a long knife and ran the sharp tip straight into the eye that didnât meet his standard of beauty. Blood spilled and screams bounced off the walls. All so very typical.
A second stab was initiated, to the right side this time. No point in leaving the other eye - certain things were meant to go as a pair.
âYou,â he called out after dropping the dying man to the ground. One business taken care of, now onto the other. âGot a name?â He asked, shaking blood from his hand. ( @cr-scarlet )
Someone with longer legs was behind him, footsteps rapidly closing in and in four - no, three steps he would be caught. Adrenaline was pumping, blood was rushing through his veins, but he couldnât push himself to go any faster.
There should be panic in his heart, along with a healthy dose of fear. Yet instead he felt only excitement. As he was lifted into the air, he laughed...And it was a happy sound.Â
Not me, Yelian finally realized. This is not me.
Now it makes sense.
He wasnât the type to run from a battle and if he did, that must mean there was no other option. If he was ever caught while making a flee attempt, then the only sound of laughter he would make be the kind associated with madness.
This one, whoever he was, tucked himself securely against the chest of his captor. It was a game, and he was happy to be caught. The only regret he felt was not getting to play longer.
Yelian did not feel any connection to this content, playful child that was being carried off. This clear dissociation actually helped him in this case, because he did not have to be cautious. Did not have to feel wariness and distrust towards the warmth and comforting nature of these arms.
It took a while, but in the end he opted to relax, allowing himself to actually enjoy experience the dream.
But at the same time he must wonder - why would he have such a dream? This peaceful feeling environment and sense of safety had no place in his mind.
It is a sign of your weakness, a voice whispered. Slipping through in the cracks that death put there.
A lullaby was being hummed against his ears. The childâs ears. Pleasantly distracting.
You are going to die soon, Yelian.
His eyelids drooped as the sweet melody continued.
âGood night,â Yelian heard a voice, accompanied by gentle fingers running through his hair. âMy little-â
Deep breath. In and out. A hint of pain in his abdomen, but that was to be expected considering all the shit he had to deal with last night.
âWhat time is it?â But of course there was no one to answer. Yelian lived in this apartment alone, always.
Rolling onto his back, Yelian peered towards the place where the hello kitty clock should be. Its clear plastic surface was cracked and one of the wands was bent. No longer could it tell time, and served only as an object that made irritating background noises. Yelian felt the desire to smash it into the wall again, but managed to hold himself back. Anger, as they were all told, can be a dangerous beast. His especially.
He swept back his bangs, feeling the dried blood on his fingers crust off into tiny flakes of crimson, mixing with his sweat to form streaks on his skin.
What a mess. He peeled his clothes off with difficulty and tossed them into the washer along with the bed sheets, the pillow cases and every thing else his body touched that needed to be washed. The shoes on his feet went straight into the overflowing trash can because after having stomped on the innards of a now dead creature of filth, he no longer wanted them.
Once upon a time this place was neat and the fridge wasnât empty.
What changed? Yelian asked himself, splashing cold water onto his face. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He had not taken a single step out of his routine. Trained, planned, listened, killed. If nothing changed, why did it feel like something was off?
Tick tick. The clock was still there. Background noise. Ever persistent. It no longer worked, but it still ticked.
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Morning friends, I wanted to provide a little bit of background information on Galeâs host body and share a few plot ideas I have. Please like this post if you are interested in threading with him and Iâll come to you.
His name is Ye Lian (ĺśćś), raised by assassin dad along with three older brothers. All of the brothers have different mothers and they are not particularly close due to their harsh upbringing. The only one my character was emotionally invested in, the third brother, was the one he killed. Most skilled of the bunch is likely the eldest brother with the code name of Hawk. Second eldest brother Sparrow is married and completely obsessed with his wife. Heâs mostly quit the gang life in favour of full time protecting his in-laws and the family he married into is just rich enough to allow him to do that.
When I am writing, I will likely use Yelian instead of Ye Lian because I think it looks better.
Personality wise, my character is a very difficult person. He doesnât trust anyone and is more likely to assume the worst of everyone he meet. A bit prickly, unlikely to make conversations, heâs the type thatâll get a job done and go right back home so he could be alone. Doesnât drink, doesnât use any illicit substances and doesnât smoke. Yelian doesnât want anything to cloud his judgment even for a second.
Career wise, I think he is probably generally respected in his organization because while heâs a prick, he does get the job done. This respect may be slipping these days because ever since he killed his own brother six months ago, Yelianâs been acting a bit off. Not as organized, showing a more reckless streak...he doesnât acknowledge it, but the death of his brother did do a number on him.
Plot ideas! I would like to have lots of enemies, please. Did he kill your family? Your friend? Do you work for the other gang and heâs on your murder list? Maybe he didnât actually kill your family but you are pinning it on him via some sort of association? Are you in love with his brother whom he killed because that man was a real looker?
Gale will be laying dormant for a portion of this universe. Heâll be having some affects on his host body in that the host body will occasionally feel sickened by what he is doing/feel extra empathy towards certain people/creatures. The host body may also feel drawn to Chromians.
The sky was blue, the flowers were blooming. His husky ran cheerfully along his side, begging for a treat even though they were still far from their destination. Gale smiled. He reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the piece of jerky heâd prepared. Only one small piece, he thought, weâll rip off a teeny tiny portion so to not spoil Junior too much.
With the jerky revealed, the dogâs tail only wagged harder. He planted his front paws onto Galeâs knees, eagerness positively radiating.
âJust a moment,â Gale chided. âPatience is a virtue.â He applied pressure, feeling the jerky bend underneath his grip but not come apart as desired. Gale lowered his head to check on his progress, only to realize he could barely see.
Somehow, the sky had gone dark.
His smile faded, replaced by puzzlement. Cold bit at his exposed legs and arms in a way that didnât make sense. The weather was always nice in Chromos. Even when it rained, the droplets tasted sweet and snow was only an excuse for children to play outside. This...it was something different.
Darkness was chased away by a light, but it was not a warm, pleasant brightness. Blinding, intense, it came with a powerful force that pushed Gale back. He flew, shoulders colliding painfully against hard concrete over and over again as he rolled. In the end, a tree caught him with its sturdy trunk and sent him into a long, uncomfortable slumber.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was different.
He blinked, as if that would make it go away.
The sky was not engulfed in darkness, yet it was not the beautiful azure blue he was accustomed to either. It felt dimmer. Sadder.
Logic was failing, so Gale opted to focus on sensations. The throbbing pain all over his body, the debris digging into his flesh. The scent of blood in the air and the warmth of it dripping onto his palm. Junior whimpered, begging for his attention. Gale raised his eyes to see his sweet dog hobbling unsteadily towards him, a river of red accompanying him on his journey. He wanted to crawl over and meet the baby half way, but Gale could barely breathe, let alone move.
Junior, truly the stronger member of this duo, only allowed himself to collapse onto Galeâs chest after walking his last step. He made a little noise of contentment in his throat when Gale put a shaky hand over his head - the kind he used to make as a puppy whenever Gale allowed him to sleep at the foot of the bed and provided belly rubs with both hands.
âCome here, Junior.â Gale found his voice. Reality was crashing down and his heart felt like it was being weighed down by dozens of rocks. âLetâs take a nap, yeah?â He said to his doggo as he wrapped his arms around his best buddy of fifteen years. âYou are a good boy, you know that? The best boy.â Tears were flowing by the time he buried his face against Juniorâs fur. âEverything will be alright.â
She smiled at the other boy brightly, before checking the time, âIâm off in an hour so give meâŚ.two hours?âÂ
Oh sweet, she said sheâd love to.
Love to!
âOkay, see you in two hours then.â Except he wasnât really going to leave and instead, would spend his waiting time chatting with the old man who owned the repair shop.
Uncle approved of the date, and only warned him to return Basil home at an appropriate time, to which Gale agreed to.
âDo you think she knows it is a date?â Now that the excitement of having gotten the yes was beginning to fade, Gale thought of a point of concern. Basil had answered too quickly...too easily...did she even know he was asking her out instead of this being one of their usual hang outs? âIs Basil usually sharp about this type of thing?â The old man shook his head in response to Galeâs question. It made sense, because for as long as they knew each other, Gale wasnât sure if Basil actually properly dated.
Oh boy, maybe heâd need to hammer in his message, but that can wait until later.
Two hours passed and Basil was really to go. Gale stepped up to greet her and presented a gift - a bracelet made out of grass and flowers. He got bored near the end of the two hour wait and started making something. Like all of his other DIY projects, the bracelet was sort of crooked and questionable looking, but it was the thought that count.
Whatâs a good place to make friends? At house parties, thatâs right!
It was a warm, lovely Friday night and Gale had mentioned to his parents heâd be coming home late so to not wait up for him. A friendâs friend was having some sort of celebration and Gale was invited as a plus one. They said the party was likely to end at midnight, so thatâs what Gale told his parents. Now, it was close to 2:30 AM and the music was still blasting in this house. In the back of his head, there was a quiet, but stern voice telling Gale he should be finding his friend and getting out of here.
"Where are you, Timothy~?â His voice sounded strange, even to his own ears. âCome out, come out, wherever you are!â He walked unsteadily forward, giggling. Nothing particularly funny was going on, but Gale couldnât stop himself.
The weird thing was he didnât even drink that much. Whatever they put in the punch must be extra strong today.
âThere you are,â he said, leaning forward and enveloping the slightly familiar (?) figure into his arms. âI would like to go home now,â he drawled, pressing his face into the crook of his friendâs neck. âI told my parents...home...by midnight. Have you seen my phone? I think I lost it.â Oh boy, Galeâs world was beginning to spin. His feet felt like they were no longer connected to the floor, even though he was pretty certain they were still there. âHey Tims, did you get...shorter? Like, by a lot.â Gale pulled back and squinted. His friend was solidly over 190 cm and should not fit into his arms this well. âWhy have you become itty bitty.â
âKhami, heel! Khamiââ Seeing that the dog shows no signs of slowing, Minki switches tactics and calls out to the pedestrians ahead, âExcuse me! Please donât let him through! He slipped his leash!â
Have you ever approached a situation full of the best intentions, but ultimately ended up doing more harm than good?
Yeah, for Gale, it happened all the time.
As soon as he heard the call for help while walking his own doggo Junior, Galeâs good samaritan mode was activated. He turned around, arms stretched in hopes of stopping the smaller pup from advancing in its path. It worked for a second, but Gale suspected that was more due to the pupâs apprehension of the much larger husky Junior. Wanting to take advantage of the moment, Gale stepped forward, trying to plant his foot solidly on the red leash that was dragging on the ground.
Unfortunately, he slipped.
His own dog leash fell to the ground and Junior, ever excited for a new friend, went into full playful state.
âJunior, heel! Junior-â Gale got up and started running, internally laughing at the silliness of the situation. Now there were two adults chasing after their dogs down the street. One blue leash, one red leash - it was quite a sight. âI am so sorry about this. Donât worry, Junior doesnât bite. He just wants to play.â
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âYou should tell the girl how you feel though. Just tell her âhey, i like you.â and see what happens. That or invite her out to do something fun and confess your feelings then. I hear that girls really like things like that, though really iâm not love expert so i donât know what they preferâŚâ he mumbles the last bit before taking a sip of his drink, avoiding his friendâs gaze as he does so.
Eep, just the idea of saying âhey, I like youâ to Basil made Galeâs insides quiver with nervousness. That said, direct might be his best option. If he went for one of his outlandish ideas and pulled some stunt like drawing a message in the grass/on ballons, something might go wrong.
âAlright, Iâll ask her out to the movies then!â Gale declared. There should be a good one showing tomorrow and he could ask her to go right after work, using this dying bike as the excuse one last time.
Now that he made up his mind, Gale felt significantly better. He raised his head to discuss details of his plan, but noticed Kiha seemed to be...distracted. âWhat are you thinking about?â Gale tilted his head to catch Kihaâs gaze again. âWhy are you not looking at me?â He whined, putting a hand against his best friendâs cheek and turning the otherâs face back towards him. There, much better, eye contact was important, especially when serious conversations were happening!
He tried to guess what was on Kihaâs mind. Such was their friendship - emerald boy here was always on the quieter side, so Gale made it his goal to always be able to figure out the otherâs thoughts. âIf itâs about missing that chance, youâll get it again. Life is not so short and we are still young - there are so many opportunities to find love.â He smiled encouragingly, eyes bright with confidence in his words. âI know you will end up with the best person in the world, Kiha, because you are kind, considerate, and super good looking.â Cheesy, but genuine. âIf you ever say you are seeking and the word gets out, people will be lining up all the way down the block. Serious.â
â will you stay awhile?â oracle finally asks, tilting her head.  â iâm sure nyla is around somewhere if youâd like to say hello.â
When it came to being observant, Gale sat at 50-50. Today happen to be one of those days where he paid attention. The drop of blood, though singular in nature, did not go unnoticed.
âI hurt you!â Actually, it was the paper cat, but as its creator, Gale felt just equally responsible. âPlease let me have a look,â he said, taking the oracleâs hand.
Brows furrowing in distress at the injury he caused, Gale pondered over what he should do next. He held her hand in both of his with gentleness and concern, but neither of those things had the power of healing. âI know, I have a band-aid!â No need to request for divine assistance, Gale was capable of taking care of this himself.
The band-aid, sort of old and battered looking from having sat too long in his wallet, was promptly fished out. He kept one hand under oracleâs for support while he peeled the band-aid with the other. Slightly clumsily, he wrapped her finger. The band-aid ended up slightly crooked, but it should do the job. âAll better.â Now just one more thing left.
Gale bent down and softly blew at the hand he was still holding. âMy family does this for me,â he explained, just in case she would question this behavior. âI am blowing away your pain.â Gale grinned. âIt sounds silly but it really works. At least for me.â
As for saying hello to Nyla, the cat arrived right on cue. Gale let go of oracleâs hand and crouched down for the feline. He presented her with his finger to sniff and cooed lovingly. Cats really are the best, eh?
  (...) when the song the other was singing comes to an end, huiâs hands raise to clap softly. though he doesnât say anything verbally, his eyes are bright and thereâs a small almost invisible smile on his lips.
The first thing he felt was embarrassment, because gosh, he had no idea he was being watched! Fortunately, negative emotions didnât tend to last with Gale and a twinge of pride soon took over. Singing was, after all, something he was quite fond of doing and personally thought he was good at. It hadnât always been this way - when he was a child, Gale only had a voice and no technique. He would screech into the air louder than the morning crows and make all of his neighbours wince.
Someone was always there to encourage him, however, and in time he somehow tapped into the flow of music and found his tune. Had he not decided on the path of becoming a vet, Gale would have gone to try to become a singer. Write some happy lyrics to go with a cheery rhythm - something people could hum to in their cars during the morning drive.
âHow long have you been listening for?â Gale smiled towards the one who had clapped. âAre you a student?â The other looked like he was around his age. And here Gale thought he had introduced himself to every student in this university! Oh well, better to have a late introduction than none at all.
âMy name is Gale!â He started happily, taking the otherâs hands and tugging him over to sit. Indeed, he had no sense of personal boundaries and didnât see any issues with holding hands with a stranger. âWhatâs your name? How old are you? What major are you in?â He fired the questions rapidly. âHave you eaten lunch yet? Did you like the song I sang?â This was exciting. Meeting new people was so much fun.
âWhat are your hobbies? Do you like dogs?â This was a very important question. âDo you want to see pictures of my dog? He is really cute.â
"Thatâs not fair!â Yet also unsurprising - both of them were well capable of playing dirty.
Gale made a slight hmph noise at the offering, now hovering too close for his liking. He wasnât a toddler anymore and didnât enjoy being fed as much as he used to, but despite his desire to protest, he knew what was going to happen next.
See, he didnât want to disappoint Sil. Especially when the word love was thrown about.
When Sil began living with them over fifteen years ago, Galeâs father had asked him to be kind. He said Sil had lost his family - the most important people in oneâs life - and was no doubt in misery. Though they would never be able to replace the love Sil had lost, they must try their best to replenish. Gale really took those words to heart and for him, it was not difficult. After all, he always had plenty of love to give.
He opened his mouth, nose wrinkling in distaste as the pigeon meat made official contact with his lips. A careful swept of his tongue over the fennel sauce had him tipping back in his seat. Gale had intended to eat - this was a physical reaction his mind couldnât override.
âToo sweet,â he said, grabbing Silâs fork wielding hand. âYou try it.â He turned the morsel towards the opposite direction. âItâs like putting corn syrup on bitter melon.â
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Finishing up her treat, she grabbed her discarded toolkit and crouched down in front of the bike, eying it critically, a bit of worry hitting her as she took in the poor state of things, âThis is an accident waiting to happen. I donât want you to foolishly keep riding this thing until you get hurt.â She scolded him even as she got to work fixing up the bikeâlike habit t this point. âI know you are attached to it, but itâs time to let it go.â
Letting go of things was hard for Gale. He still had his plush animal (only one, because he was loyal to Monsieur Beary) and worn out blanket from his childhood days. "Iâll stop riding it after this final repair.â With great heaviness weighing down his heart, he resigned to his fate. The bike may join Monsieur Beary and his blanket in the attic, where they would be kept safe and comfortable in retirement.
âThereâs actually another thing I wanted to ask you.â And that was the difficult part of this visit. See, Gale had been thinking about this for a while now and the chat with Kiha gave him the push he needed to actually shoot his shot. That said, exactly how he would approach this topic was still something to struggle over.
He wished he could be calm and collected about it, but that simply wasnât his personality. Sexy was also out of the window because...letâs face it, that smoothness was reserved for dramas and Gale was certain heâd screw it up. There were enough cringe worthy moments in his memory bank, no need to add another to it.
Just follow my heart, right?
Gale waited for Basil to look up from her work before putting on his usual smile - the one she should be very familiar with...the one she saw on his face the first time they met. Granted, heâd done a lot of growing up since then, but when you are raised in a world like Chromos, surrounded by love, your smile doesnât change much. Same openness, same honest happiness.
âWant to go see a movie with me?â He revealed two tickets. âToday, after you are off work.â
âThis is for you,â he said cheerfully. âA gift made by yours truly!â No boxes, no ribbons, Gale didnât believe in wrapping up gifts only for the receiver to have something to rip open - that would be awfully wasteful. âDoesnât it look just like Nyla?â He was presenting the oracle with a creature made out of paper and it definitely looked nothing like the cat it was supposedly modelled after.
First of all, the colour was wrong. Last time we checked, there werenât any crimson red cats wandering around the streets of Chromos. Gale simply chose to use red paper because it was his favourite colour and readily available.
Secondly, the creature did not look like a cat. It had rounded ears, which made it look like a bear. The eyes were too round and the way Gale chose to draw on eyelids made the creature look like a panda with white eyeliner on. Its tail was too short and curled weirdly, resembling a piglet. Finally, the whiskers were made out of toothpicks and that made Galeâs offering not only strange but also sort of prickly to the touch and must be handled with care.
Regardless, it was a gift.
âDo you like it?â Gale asked, eyes bright with anticipation. âItâs my new hobby. I nearly broke my leg last week when I accidentally let go while zip lining, and dad said I should try to find something quieter to do for now.â The zip line was also a DIY home project, which no doubt added to his dadâs wariness. Ever since the neighbour showed Gale how to use a saw plus some other tools, heâd been trying to make all sorts of things.