—

The curious glimmer within icy blues swiftly fades into careful neutrality, footsteps finally gently thunking against the metal cage of deepground's personal quarters. He doesn't offer a hello, not that he ever would given he was the one to be greeted first but she cannot help the acute annoyance that comes with having her opportunity ripped through fingers. The restrictor must have been particularly grating on their outing, or perhaps it was a waste of time to the immaculate one. “ He's back in his room. ” He hadn't exactly been allowed out during Weiss's abscense, the question would have been stupid if asked by anyone else but Tyrian understands well enough.

the     stale     air     of     deepground     is     suddenly     a     noticeable     thing     too,     thick     enough     to     settle     heavily     inside     his     lungs,     unlike     what     he     spent     the     last     few     days     breathing     in.     everything     felt     so     different     that     the     contrast     bordered     on     overwhelming,     in     a     way     he     knew     he     couldn't     explain     to     nero     when     he'd     inevitably     want     to     know     about     it,     trying     to     hide     his     curiosity     through     indifferent     questions . . .     how     could     he     possibly     put     it     into     words .ᐣ     nothing     simply     existed     without     changing . . .     were     it     not     for     the     restrictors     barking     orders,     he'd     have     stood     and     taken     the     world     in     until     his     eyes     grew     numb.

with     his     back     still     turned     to     the     woman,     the     scowl     burning     into     his     visage     is     fought     off,     fists     clenching     and     releasing     in     regular     intervals.     his     jaw     tightens     until     it     aches.     anything     to     fight     off     these     terrible     feelings.     anything     to     keep     them     buried     beneath     practised     composure.

—

How long had it been since the immaculate one managed to break free? Far too long she feels, envy and reverence combined into an amalgam of ugly feelings she does not yet know how to handle, has not ever felt before in her lifetime. Abandonment had been expected, of course, she is nothing more than a tool created for the sake of rending through flesh and completing her duties and the tool once feared while held highly had swiftly grown useless, restless in the absence of the being that gave her reason to strive for the best. Tyrian the lustrous had lost her shine, the crimson ichor tainting her fingertips so often an art now lost to her own bloody welts digging into alabaster flesh, near the same shade as the dress that pumps mako around her freezing body.

The familiar voice registers as little more than the usual hallucination, a cruel joke by those damned restrictors. Beasts that they are, their favorite toy an escapee and now their new object to ease frustrations on seemingly losing her mind, it makes her laugh softly while an icy blue cracks open and her nose scrunches slightly. Scents were no liars, vision and hearing could be altered but there was a unique smell to deepground's king, a distinct warmth to his touch despite his demeanor. The laughter dies down, fingertips gently digging into the meat of her cheek, thumb caressing the side of her face...

boots     glowing     with     mako     rattled     across     the     rusted     floors     with     each     step.     she     kneels     before     a     desolate     altar,     unaware     the     missing     deity     is     the     one     before     her     until     he     forcefully     takes     hold     of     her     chin     and     commands     her     gaze.

worried     i'd     forget     you .ᐣ

lets make this as quick as possible. because it was wrong in how it felt so right to be back in a lab once more. it was wrong to feel the hum of electricity beneath her skin and it felt normal. she had studied, interned, put in so many hours for a project- her project.

only to regret. only to lose. only to find herself in banora. raising her son with a husband. a kind man who overlooked that she had a child with an unknown father.

now a widower and that child now a teenager enlisting for this very company she was brought below. if angeal wasn't away. if genesis wasn't away. if her husband hadn't died then she would've never come or agreed. but they were all gone and shinra had sent turks to her step to request a consult. to pick her mind and review materials. test subjects. she knew failure and they wanted her to tell her what she spotted of it.

what she hadn't expected was the ivory child. large eyes that saw and knew too much. a child beneath the building, hidden away as a test subject and likely had never had a day or a moment of innocence. she was glad that angeal at least had that.

there's     no     surprise     when     a     few     scientists     come     by     nero     and     weiss's     little     cell,     demanding     the     brothers     be     separated     ━━━━     what     is     surprising     is     when     it's     weiss     that's     escorted     away     rather     than     the     dark-haired     child.    

being     lead     up     a     rusted     staircase     towards     the     scientist's     labs,     it's     a     pathway     he     has     memorised;     he     could     walk     it     blind.     in     such     a     compact     world,     everything     has     long     since     been     memorised.     he     knows     the     two     men     guiding     him,     their     names     &     faces     committed     to     memory     with     effortless     precision,     overhearing     conversations     had     told     him     their     lovers'     names,     along     with     other     things.     barely     taller     than     their     waists,     weiss     had     long     since     decided     he'd     slaughter     them     all     one     day . . .     not     in     anger,     nor     in     haste,     but     with     the     same     cold     certainty     they     carried     whenever     they     looked     upon     him.

She is replaceable, after all, and she does not convince herself otherwise of that fact. She is more than accepting of the fact that she must continue to prove herself worthy of being within his presence, his company, and she thrives under the pressure and challenge that comes with it. She does not hesitate nor does she fear the inevitability that is Weiss the immaculate, rather she embraces the fact that some day it will be at the hand of a man so divine that her life will some day end. She knows she is greedy, knows that she is incredibly selfish to position herself in such a way, to take from a man bound and trapped and yet she does not stop.

ignoring     the     smallest     of     pulls     as     thin     digits     snag     on     knots,     his     head     slowly     rolls     back,     then     to     the     side     ━━━━     neck     fully     exposed     to     a     woman     who     could     tear     through     it     if     she     so     pleased.     a     silent     offering,     though     not     one     born     from     trust.     though     they     both     knew     how     it'd     end,     there     was     one     fate     for     those     who     worshipped     the     purity     ━━━━     it     wasn't     a     matter     of     if,     simply     when.     the     people     of     deepground     could     rest     assured     that     it     would     be     timely     &&     just,     weiss     gained     loyalty     in     a     lawless     world     for     a     reason.     where     brutality     often     masqueraded     as     leadership,     he     had     become     something     far     rarer . . .

❛❛     i     thought     as     much     ❜❜     unstable     since     birth,     nero     was     rarely     allowed     to     do     as     he     pleased     ━━━━     a     fact     weiss     so     openly     detested.     were     he     to     roam     deepground,     consequences     were     to     be     forgotten,     for     weiss     would     stand     by     his     side.     there     was     never     any     hesitation     in     that     conviction.     or     more     likely,     his     brother     would     have     made     his     way     in     here     long     before     tyrian     ever     thought     to.

Fingertips gently comb through familiar tresses, irritation at the subtle thrumming of the emperor's throne brushing through her spine occasionally as though she herself were being punished just the same. It is a mockery, what those buffoons on the surface subject their most powerful to, they think that a little discomfort will the tsviets bend to their will like a well behaved dog? There is no loyalty to be had, not when the greatest among them was being treated like an insubordinate child stranded in some ridiculous game that was by no means being played by the very man they seemed so terrified of. It is not as though he needs comfort, that is simply not something that the residents of Deepground ever experienced because comfort came in bloodshed, in hot crimson staining the delicate whites of their uniforms and sticking to their flesh.

This was not an effort to comfort the emperor she held in the highest regards, rather just a means of satisfying her own urges, placating the fact that she was having her own time with the mighty immaculate one infringed upon so often and so cruelly that Tyrian would carve the time to have the contact she so desperately desired even if it was done with a tenderness that did not fit the brute of a woman associated with ripping through lower ranking soldiers without a moment of hesitation. Weiss is warm against her body, heavy between the soft tissue of her chest that she keeps his head pressed firmly against as though perhaps it were a lover's caress. It was anything but and based on the hum he offers, curious and demanding of an explanation for the woman's actions, Tyrian is certain whatever she says will not offer anything satisfactory for either of them.

she     intrudes     upon     the     room,     metal     boots     striking     the     ground     with     a     relentless     rhythm,     a     sound     that     rattles     in     his     skull     more     than     it     should     ━━━━     a     telltale     sign     that     the     exposure     to     this     much     mako     is     finally     beginning     to     harm     a     being     born     from     it's     depths.     a     cruel     irony,     really . . .      he     wouldn't     cave,     though,     they     attacked     &     harmed     him     as     though     he     were     something     possible     to     control,     to     own,     to     chain     &&     parade     as     their     greatest     achievement.     when     the     cleansing     of     this     planet     began,     it     was     then     that     his     revenge     would     be     sought     ━━━━     for     now . . .    nothing     could     happen     to     the     immaculate     that     he     didn't     allow.

she's     cold,     he's     far     too     warm     for     a     place     robbed     of     warmth     and     light.     tangles     within     his     white     mane     go     untouched,     his     scalp     scratched     and     prodded     ━━━━     he     still     recalls     her     reaction     when     they     were     teens     and     his     knee-length     locks     had     been     forcibly     cut     right     above     shoulder     length.     nero     had     certainly     disliked     the     change     too.     for     all     his     complaints,     however,     his     brother     had     adjusted     quickly     enough.    

her     care     isn't     appreciated;     it     isn't     born     from     anything     beyond     selfish     desires     and     claims.     companionship     is     an     idea     he     proclaims     to     hold     but     one     that's     never     understood     ━━━━     he     cares     for     the     people     of     deepground     the     same     way     you'd     hold     fondness     for     a     weapon,     prepared     to     maintain     its     upkeep,     able     to     admit     its     usefulness     but     ready     to     toss     it     away     the     moment     a     bullet     jams.     valuable     possessions     are     still     possessions     all     the     same.     his     feelings     towards     her     held     no     difference.     she     occupied     a     place     within     his     life     because     she     proved     useful     enough     to     remain     there,     nothing     more     &&     certainly     nothing     less.

No violence, not something she'd been allowed to indulge in since the introduction of those stupid restrictors playing some sort of pseudo justice within her home, invaders upsetting the natural order of how Deepground was meant to work, of how it had always been until recent development. She'd hardly even had the time to indulge in the company of the other tsviets, constantly being rushed to and from somewhere to be jabbed with something or another or gawked at, she imagined Rosso had little better luck than herself in that regard, as if they were not the epitome of creation itself primed and ready to destroy any wandering eyes with little more than the flick of a wrist.

Of course that is all to say, the second @immaculxtes draws her attention, the commanding and powerful voice gracing her ears with a harmony and request so sweet it sounds nearly like a siren's song, she cannot help but to grow giddy with anticipation.

" How about a warm up spar ? "

the     man     masked     in     black     who     was     supposed     to     guard     this     section     was     absent,     noticeable     so,     weiss     wouldn't     be     surprised     if     another     of     his     comrades     was     kicking     up     a     fight     elsewhere.     it     happened     often     enough.     all     it     took     was     one     spark     before     violence     spread     like     wildfire     through     the     underground     prison.     leaving     him     with     a     momentary     reprieve,     the     only     thing     they     sought     in     these     moments     was     some     semblance     of     freedom.     however     fleeting     it     may     have     been.     to     tear     through     each     other's     skin     without     consequence,     to     feel     blood     rush     and     adrenaline     pump.     to     indulge     in     the     one     thing     deepground     had     always     nurtured     best     ━━━━     violence.     there     were     so     few     willing     to     stand     up     to     weiss     these     days,     and     with     the     restrictor     defaulting     to     a     chip     planted     within     his     brain,     there     was     little     in     the     way     of     challenge     there . . .     few     could     offer     resistance     worth     remembering;     fewer     still     possessed     the     courage     to     try.