EMPYREAN.

          piercing hues open just enough to watch ace operative’s features twist and shift as audra’s tongue sets about exploring heated folds of skin without hesitation. harriet’s gasped words meet sensitive ears and fox is shifting back oh so slightly to take a breather - grazing sharpened canines over the inside of specialist’s thigh, allowing her breath to ghost over heated skin in a soft sigh. it’s taking everything she has in her to simply take her time, to not go to fast too quickly, but it’s oh so difficult with harriet squirming beneath her like that. with hands fisting and tangling in grey hair as audra shifts to place atlesian’s legs atop her shoulders as nails rake over hips and she moves just enough to ghost warm breath over whatever skin she can reach. 

          there’s probably rules about this. about the ater op hooking up with ace op like this, that they shouldn’t let themselves get distracted by ‘matters of the flesh’ like this. but honestly? for the first time, audra can’t bring herself to care about the rules or what other people would think if they found out about this as she watches harriet’s flushed features stare down at her with that look in her eye that dares vulpes to go further. the one that dares her to push just that bit more, to keep going until she gets the reaction she wants, until harriet is nothing but putty in her hands and beneath her tongue as ater operative moves again. 

          roguish smile fades, then. olive hues shifting from lilac to rest somewhere around doctor’s chest. oh, how he wants to pretend, wants to forget the space between them - the raft that their separate lives have forced between them. every turn, every decision has pushed the two further and further away. oh, oh how desperately roman wants to tell odet to run away with him. that they could turn their backs on the world, on their own lives and make a new one. they could do that. it wouldn’t be difficult - they could have a life together. their own life, one they made themselves. something that belongs to them and only them. odet’s hand in his own, fingertips tracing creases of warm skin, his eyes watching closely as he memorises the feeling of odet in his hands. odet here before him. because roman knows he won’t have it for long.

          he’s never let anyone tell him what he can’t have. not before now. not until it was the doctor stood there, before him - hands at his waist and soft look in his eye - saying that they couldn’t have one another. they couldn’t do this. not if roman kept going down the path he was headed down. not if vulpes would keep letting himself be dragged further into the shadows, letting himself seep further and further into his own bitter, spiteful existence. roman torchwick didn’t do simply surviving. he had to live, had to feel and experience and get the most out of what he was given. he thinks that maybe odet made him see that. that life had something more than the bitterness he chokes from it with both hands, that perhaps the specialist deserved more. 

          gaze shifts from odet’s hand, then finding the doctor’s lips with an impossibly soft expression. there’s no forced charm, no deliberate attempt to disarm or distract. no, it’s roman that looks to odet in that moment. it’s him, just him. possibly the most roman he’s ever been. and it’s for odet. only ever for odet. he wonders if dear doctor knows that, knows how much he trusts the swan offered up on a silver platter to the fox. for everything he’s ever done, all the hurt he’s ever caused or watched without doing anything. roman had convinced himself that the world is just like that - that he couldn’t do anything about it, so why try? 

          but here he is, watching as the one thing he truly wants slips from his fingertips. watching with a sad gaze as odet takes a step back and distances them again - pushes them further away. as the figure he holds so dear to previously icy heart starts down that path that so easily separates the two of them. maybe.... maybe things just weren’t meant to happen. they weren’t meant to be together. roman torchwick isn’t meant to be happy, isn’t meant to have anything he wants in life. and, maybe that’s okay. he’ll step back, so that odet can have the life he wants. he knows the doctor will, he’s just that kind of person. 

        “you mean i should be honest with myself? dearest, we’ve been running on borrowed time ever since we met, have we not? i suppose...” hands join behind his back, posture straightening as roman fixes that mask firmly back in place - gathers himself as he cants his head to the side oh so slightly and offers a weak, half baked, quirk of his lips upward. “we all have to play the act we’re given, doctor. even if it hurts more than anything else, hm?” a pause, a beat of hesitation flickering over made up features as he takes half a step backwards - away from the only thing he’s ever wanted, ever questioned his rules or his expectations for. 

          "of course not--” the words are hissed through gritted teeth as specialist yanks the younger woman out of the street and into a side alley, never once looking to the other fully as her expression twists and fox is pushing the other back into the shadows. it’s not safe here. why would she lie about something like that? the question is pushed to the back of her mind, later. she can deal with it later. for now she needs to concentrate. needs to get them somewhere safe. 

    arthur takes the hit like a champ, almost like he doesn’t feel it, and skids back to give them some distance. he brings houndtooth up, peering down its sights and lining it up to her skull, but then she stops and she lets her blades retract and he grits his teeth.

    instinct tells him to fire. the ammunition he keeps in his gun is made to destroy grimm and kill humans, not just to wound them. he knows electric dust is his next round and he knows that if he hit her in the right spot, she’d go down and go down hard. but something tugs at his stomach, makes his skin turn cold, and he snarls before dropping his weapon to his side.

         “and why not fight?” he asks. “i thought that was what you were bred for. when have you ever turned down a chance to throw a punch? is that how  s o f t  you’ve become?”

          she bristles at his words, stance still low and ready to pounce at any second - even as she watches him drop the damned gun to his side - she’s still ready, muscles taut and fists clenched. the bullet she expected doesn’t come and for a split second, the fox isn’t sure if she’s glad about that or not. maybe it would be simpler if he’d just put a bullet in her already. maybe she should let him kill her. goad him into taking the shot they both know he should. 

          “you’re my friend. my... my fucking family, what more reason do i need? you want me to tell you i love you? that i saw you as my brother before you vanished? or maybe i should just tell you that i know how much all of this has affected odet? that i’ve seen first hand how he blames himself? is that what you want to hear?” she’s buying time, she thinks. voice is desperate as she pleads for sympathy in a place where she knows there to be none. fox ears pin back into messy hair as lips curl in a snarl. she’s angry. at herself, at him, at salem. at everything. audra harlow has always been angry, always been ready to fight at the slightest reason. yet here she is. refusing to give into his jabs. 

    arthur’s eyes widen when she charges for him. he takes a few steps back in preparation and  b l i n k s ,  his eyes lighting up as his semblance activates. time slows and he can see the ghostly outline of audra’s figure as she moves. a million outcomes, all at once, and when she makes her final decision, they lock into place and arthur grins.

    he fires, but he doesn’t count out loud this time, hoping to keep her on her toes, and aims for the ground just in front of them. another ice bullet, which spreads in an arc in front of him. he waits until she’s close and her foot slips on the ice and he grabs her arm to throw her over his head. he spins on his heel to face her, that smile still present as he speaks.

         “i assure you audra, i have changed far more than you could possibly imagine.” he muses. “you however? predictable. you’ve always been predictable. a million possibilities and nine-hundred-thousand of them are almost identical.” he laughs. “even if you win, you watch–you won’t be able to kill me. because you’re the same as you always have been. and you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

          animalistic growl is caught in her throat as the strike is thrown off and she’s thrown on her back hard enough to knock the wind out of her chest - breath and voice hitching uselessly behind her ribcage through the impact. aura taking the brunt of the blow as dark eyes snap open to catch sight of emerald hues staring down at her, sharpened teeth bared as arthur’s insufferable voice cuts through the ringing in her skull. the way her chest lurches at the sight, at the sound of his voice alone, not to mention what he’s saying -- it’s a feeling she hasn’t allowed herself for years. 

          “fuck you, arthur--” a rush of blood to her head, a hit of adrenaline and she’s shoving her foot up as hard as she physically can in order to catch him in the right knee. his human knee, she’s not stupid. she’s taken a look at him, knows what her semblance is feeding her -- not enough to wound, but enough to give her a distraction - to scramble to her feet and stand just far enough away. chest heaves, teeth are bared and nose wrinkled in a snarl - an animalistic expression that only furthers the blood rushing beneath scarred skin. she knows what he’s doing - knows that it’s working even if she tries to fight it. audra may know his weaknesses, but arthur watts knows audra’s biggest weakness. knows how to throw her off. and it’s working. 

    arthur snarls. “i know how to count, audra.” he spits. “and for the record, you and i both know i don’t intend to fight without extra ammunition.”

    he jerks back when she flips, just barely escaping her kick by a fraction of an inch. he lets her set the distance; he doesn’t mind. but he crouches briefly to pull the blade from its place at his ankle, crossing it with his gun as he glares at her.

    there’s a pause, one that feels like centuries, the air alive with electricity. thunder  r u m b l e s  behind him and he can hear the distant cries of the grimm on salem’s tail. he doesn’t even have to win this fight; he just has to keep her here long enough to let salem get close.“eighteen.” he fires.

    the second the bullet leaves its chamber, arthur dives forward, rolling along the ground and skidding to a stop at her side. “seventeen. sixteen.” one for each leg, one at the knee and the other at her foot. his thumb leaves the hilt of his knife and slides another bullet casing into the chamber, a quick way for him to reload without too much notice or wasted time. back to seventeen for now.

          she knows how he fights, knows his techniques like the back of her hand, like the weight of her gauntlets against her skin or the thickness of her protective gloves. but, they’ve been apart for a time, long enough that muscle memory is all she has to rely on now. instinct has her sidestepping to avoid the first bullet, counting with him in her head as eyes widen at the rush forward. she doesn’t get a chance to reply, not that she would have had anything smart to say - not as gunshots crack through the air and the tension between them. fox ears pin back into greying hair. 

          fuck-- the thought only flickers through her mind for a second - aura won’t protect her prosthetics from those bullets. she’s acting on nothing but muscle memory at this point, throwing herself over his frame to her hands - spinning on the heel of her palm in an attempt to slam her heel down in his direction. growl tears from vulpes’ throat as she distances herself again. metal of prosthetics grates against concrete beneath her feet as specialist grinds to a halt. this isn’t working. she needs to get in close and land a blow. 

    arthur smiles as he watches her shifting expression, wishes he could see into her head and her every little thought, watch the gears turn. the warmth of her hand on his is comforting only for a second as her expression sours and her voice darkens. arthur sighs, almost sad, and then fires at her foot, freezing it into place as he twists his arm to wrench it from her hand.

         “then i will.” he spits. his hand spins the cylinder of houndtooth, cocks it, and he narrows his eyes. “just do me a favor–when you die, i would appreciate it if you don’t act as if i didn’t give you a chance to win.”

          sharpened canines flash for a split second at the shot. good. she’s on his nerves, has his full attention and has no intention of loosing it. not now. not when everything rides on this moment. on this face off. she will not let him sway her. no matter what the state of her home is in, siding with salem isn’t an option. no. no there’s too many people she still has to protect. she’s not a desperate fool willing to throw her life away the same way he is. no, she’s sure of that.