you could have been exceptional.

“Yes, you have plenty of time ahead of you to be more than you are now. Don’t we all though? We might not have the same potential but..” She gave a shrug, setting her glass down. “Makes me wish I’d been a bit more consistent with school. I loved and gave everything to neuroscience. Ah well. Sometimes things aren’t meant to be.”

                                 there’s a somber tone in the air, but when isn’t there? (  LOCAL  CHILD  GOES  MISSING  DOWN  BY  THE  FAIRGROUNDS !  )  as usual, everette’s citizens have their masks on and are dressed in their sunday best. the town’s gotta put it’s best forward for when the news station comes.                         (  here’s  a  hint:  they  always  come,  if  it  bleeds  it  leads.  )              you have to wonder why they were even down by there in the first place. however, the diner is impervious to what’s going on outside of it’s bright red door. all of it just melts away, it is a blessing as much as it is odd. strangers meander in and out, some are trying to help find the kid and some are just looking for a warm meal. when someone comes to her edge of the counter, she smiles faintly  -  pushing up her glasses.    ❛  can  i  get  you  some  coffee  or  something ?  ❜  //  @ingentiaque: sc.

         he parks without paying for a ticket, but there’s something about sundays, isn’t there ? after a certain time or something or other - not important enough to occupy a place in his mind.  anyways, he won’t be here long. see, he’s just driving through, or well, that was the plan. but his eyelids feel heavy and the bout of fatigue didn’t pass and this town seems as good a place as any to stay the night. his phone’s dead, otherwise he would’ve skipped coffee altogether and mapped the closest hotel. though once he caught sight of the diner, the thought of a warm cup of joe seemed more and more appetizing, a tired mind quickly fixating onto the idea. 

@ingentiaque

“And what about you? Do you consider yourself a success?” She didn’t usually use social drinking as a time to be philosophical, but it wasn’t every day that she found someone else was as enthusiastic about science. It was too bad she never finished grad. Such a pity to let a brain like her’s go to waste.

Would god think so indeed? He very much doubted that any god with even a semblance of goodness in them would remotely approve of what he did in order to garner his funds. Regardless, little consideration was given to the prospect of what came after death. Expression hooded, the man shrugs.

“ What god thinks is irrelevant, even if he exists he has no jurisdiction over me. Why ? Are you scared of him?

   “You’re right.” Her stare is as empty as her words. “I don’t.” She cocks the gun. “…but I have to. Now are you gonna continue to give me a hard time, or what ?” She digs the barrel deeper into his neck. “Start up the goddamn car and when you get to North Avenue, take a right.” She keeps one hand on the pistol while she digs in her backpack, fishing for her water bottle of vodka. She’s tempted to ask him to stop at a liquor store, but she had to keep focused.

@ingentiaque ; starter call.

    When the individual enters the vehicle, Roxanne stealthily sits up from the back seat and bumps the nose of her gun against the back of their neck. She was calm thanks to the Xanax she had stolen on the way out of the Arcadia Institute. She’ll lick her lips and croak out softly, “Don’t try screaming for help. I’ll pull the trigger if you do.” She inches closer. “…All you gotta do is listen to me and then you won’t get hurt.” She pauses. She sniffles. “… ‘Kay?”

❛ &. ┊ She’s never quite liked the hastiness of a city during lunch break, the incoherent whispers that fill the air as businessmen and -women alike attempt to lighten the dreadful mood of doing naught worth remembering; and she’s caught up in the middle, gracefully escaping any possible collision while hands warm themselves up against the surface of her reusable bamboo mug filled to the brim with tea, when the unexpected question has her halt mid-motion, brow rising to form a perfectly amused curvature even if her lips show little to no suitable reaction. “ Sure. ” A hand fumbles about in her pocket until she retrieves the silver lighter, flicks against the wheel until the appearance of a flame allows the kindling of his cigarette. 

A pause when the small lighter vanishes back into the pocket of her suit pants, lips clasping round the brim of a mug to coat a pointed tongue with warm liquid. And it’s not quite like she recognises his features, less so when all that linger in the area look the same, but asks she nonetheless, “ Weren’t you in the meeting last week about… ” a vague gesturing of her hand; it’s apparent that she wasn’t all too focused on the meeting’s subjects, “ Corporate design? Expansion strategy? Something like that? ”

        he dips his head towards the flame, inhaling once the end’s in embers. ‘   thanks.    ’ he nods, the cigarette now perched between two fingers with a cloud of smoke dissipating into the air. contrary to popular belief, he can be polite. especially when he’s around fellow associates. he holds a certain respect for the influence of public image, he’d go as far as to say it keeps him in check. reputations tarnish easily, and he’d rather have the privilege of destroying it himself than willingly handing it over to a journalist who got their degree at columbia but now works for buzzfeed. 

      There it was again, the whirlwind of emotions and aura coming off from him. Not all humans were complicated. There were some that were just confused and some chose to hide their real selves. However, this one was another type of human, the kind that Sjöfn tried so hard to avoid. Oh well, she put it upon herself. If her father was here, she was sure that he would tell her that she did the right thing. And she knew she did. 

      She looked over to him and saw that he was still a bit far away from where she was. It seemed that he thought twice on following her. That didn’t bother her at all, it was just frustrating. Sjöfn shook her head as she opened the door of the cafe. People seemed to be unaffected with what had happened from blocks away they came from. 

       Some people looked at their direction and all she could do was to smile and attempted to make her way to a booth nearby. Before she could even take another step, his words stopped her. She raised an eyebrow at him as she turned to face him. Unbelievable. How dare he, a human, command a deity such as her? Her calm and beautiful face became blank. 

       Rolling her eyes, she decided to oblige to his request. Not too long, she found him settled in a booth at the back of the cafe. She held two cups, one vanilla cream drink, and his ordered black coffee. The only reason she ended up bending to his command was she understood the shock of what had happened. At least that was what she was sensing off him. 

       For a while, she stayed silent. Her green eyes watched him. “So have you called the people you’re meaning to reach?” The gentleness and calmness of her features came back. There was still this high wall protecting everything about him which the goddess of love and affection couldn’t even penetrate. It was enough to make her smile a little bit, a memory of Vali, while she was in Asgard, surfaced in her head.

      this shouldn’t be his life, he’s a scientist for god’s sake. nevertheless, his phone is retrieved from the depths of parka pockets, and a call is made. public relations - because it’s all about the image right ? it’s hardly about the bullet, and it’d be laughable to make this about a threat of safety, but that doesn’t mean it’s not about him. it’s about quelling the why’s of it all, it’s about eradicating his name from the headlines because all press is not good press. there’s an air of reverence for the people who protect him, he likes  them because they don’t do it out of good faith, but because he pays them very well. there is no surer sign of loyalty than a dollar bill. 

    ‘   no she doesn’t know me. she was just there.    ’ he huffs, because this call is dragging far too long for his liking. blue eyes peer up at the girl in line, and she turns towards him right as he does. he looks out of the window instead. ‘   yeah, alright. morning’s fine. i just don’t want the pigs knocking on my door at two in the morning. yeah, i know. yeah. bye.    ’ he sounds like a petulant child, blame it on the fatigue. 

    he takes a deep breath and meets her gaze. ‘   the cops will want to speak to you in the morning.   ’ he starts, and the sooner he goes through the motions, the sooner this horrendous day will come to a close. ‘   as will my associates. both will want to know what you saw.   ’ he wants to ask what she did see. he wants her to confirm what he already knows, that someone, somewhere cared enough to attempt to put a bullet in his brain. 

              Too much sugar? Was it before or after he picks up the clear container next to him, pouring a little bit more of that sweet white powdered into his cup. He didn’t always devour sweets - in fact, he preferred more bitter foods or foods ( desserts ) that lacked some flavor altogether. Hot chocolate, however, was and would always be the exception  ‘Everyone who isn’t arrogant. “        He had also read and heard about the few times that such display of ego, lead way to safety but that ounce of information will be withheld - it was better that way. “So, maybe don’t snarl at her every time she comes to our table and offer a s m i l e.” he’s was ever the kinder spirit but seeing and doing the best in the world was a tactic, don’t confuse that.  ___ “ Are  you even capable of smiling?” ah, sarcasim. 

       he makes no attempt to hide his grimace, and it’s almost like the other is just begging him to say something. ‘   gross.   ’ hardly eloquent, but he’s not about to launch into a full scale lecture on the perils of high sugar intake. plus, he wouldn’t want him mistaken into thinking he actually cared. ‘   that includes you, i take it ?    ’ blue hues stay on his features, he could be something if he wasn’t so dreadfully moral. ‘   i for one think there’s nothing worse than humility.   ’

@ingentiaque // sc

“This place is a w f u l. I’m here for the drinks and alcohol in general,for the rest.. well, I wouldn’t try the food if I were you.”

      he leans against the glass exterior of the park hyatt, a full day of calls and meetings leave him with a growling stomach that he only has enough time to subdue with coffee and cigarettes. in spite of this, he’s in relatively good spirits, see conferences are boring but they’re hardly draining. he’s practically mastered putting up with old fuckers who can’t get with modernity and he’s smarter than every single one of them. just not smart enough to have a spare lighter on hand. his thumb brushes against the wheel, once, then twice - attempting to shield the flickers of a flame against the soft breeze. 

         When she was sure that he seemed to be uninjured, she straightened herself up. She watched him as he stood up from facing the pavement. The sound of police cars caught her attention and somehow she didn’t feel panicked compared to the man she just saved. It was one of the things she never really did before, but knowing that saving him was the only thing she did made it easier for her to stay calm. The people around them ran away from the scene. 

        Sjöfn was thinking of walking away and taking him with her, but he had a different plan. There was no time to call for help. She rolled her eyes as he made her choose the next course of action she should take. Without asking for his permission, she took his wrist and ran. 

        “Are you an idiot? The more you waited for the police to arrive, the more we’ll be obliged to answer some questions. Your choice.” Obviously, she had to return his words to her. Trained to battle, his weight was nothing. She might look feminine and fragile, but she was far from that. 

         She ran and led him to a place blocks away from the scene. For a second, she looked back to it and saw the police cars were arriving. One more block and they would definitely be safe. The air in Midgard was stuffy that it made her feel a little bit tight in her chest. 

          Once she was sure that they were far enough from the scene, she stopped running and let go of the man. She let out a huff and looked around the area. At the side of the street, there was the cafe that she usually got some sustenance. “Let’s go to that place. Then you can call your people.”

           Without waiting for him, she started crossing the street. 

      it’s slow-motion, he needs to realign himself but he doesn’t know how. in moments like this, he’s helpless and it’s soul crushing. it’s why he lets himself be dragged from the scene, stumbling over his feet and worst of all, letting himself be called names. streetlights blur above him, cars hesitantly trundling past a scene that was slowly ebbing into calm. he wants to scream, bare the honour of the chaos he’s created. instead, he just keeps walking, his feet moving without his mind’s consent. he swallows, saliva thick under brisk winds and once they halt, he shakes himself from her grasp. 

      he’s about to say something, but it’d only be a pitiful attempt to re-claim the dignity he’s lost in these past few minutes. so he stays silent and hears what she has to say with begrudging fealty and traces over her path as she crosses the road. he stays where he is, a moment of fruitless defiance just to show he can.  he doesn’t need saving and he certainly doesn’t need her. 

      As she continued following the man, the more she got confused about the aura coming from him. From time to time, she would stop. It seemed that he hasn’t noticed her yet. Or so that was what she believed. 

     At first, she didn’t understand it, but he said something that has something to do to acknowledge her presence. She froze on her tracks when she noticed something coming from above. There was almost an invisible light coming from somewhere. Following it, she realized where its target was. 

     Without much thought, Sjöfn rushed to the man and pushed him away from the red dot. Her red hair swung with the velocity of the bullet as it collided to the glass of the nearby shop. People around them started screaming. She swung her hair away and looked at the direction of the man.

     Not realizing what had happened, she ended up on top his back. Immediately, she stood up. Then there was a sharp pain at her back. Concerned more with the man, Sjöfn kneeled by his side. 

     “Are you alright?” She asked, not noticing the trail of blood coming from her right shoulder blade.

      and then it becomes a blur, of moments he’ll spend months recollecting to form something he can process. it’s background noise, the shards of glass that crash upon the pavement, the screams that follow soon after. the palms of his hands scrape against the pavement, knees hitting the cement with little remorse. he’s a figure of a man at the altar, mercy given when it wasn’t asked for. life has little sanctity left, the bullet told him that much. 

    a short, bitter laugh escapes his lips and his neck cranes in order to seek the source of the inquiry. ‘   my guardian angel.   ’ the sentiment is dry, as he pushes himself up from the concrete pavement and brushes the dirt from his jacket.