is it love you seek, or dominions sweet?

"-It's not safe." It comes a bit quicker after her words, losing the slight slurring hesitance from before. His eyes are open, and then slowly, half closed within a minute.It didn't take a lot to keep him awake. The early days of training to be a Government bodyguard didn't just mean he was given high expectations. Those nights spent up in richly decorated corridors with nothing but long silences, and the occasional shift and creak from the building, it required discipline. Now, just embedded instinct to be alert at the slightest disturbance. He'd never shaken that off, and it'd proved a greater skill when he got as high as INTERPOL in his career.

" If I wanted you in it tonight... You'd know it before I opened the door." Lang murmurs, like she'd disturbed him from circling round and round to flatten his bed in just the right way. In reality, he was already beginning to lay down, a thin blanket pulled over the form of his body.

———— 🖤┊   SLY IS HER SNAKE - LIKE SMILE,   feline eyes narrowing with kittenish mischief.   ❝ that so? ❞   she purrs with a teasing lilt, albeit alcohol tugs at her words, slowing them to a drowsy crawl.   ❝ you didn't seem the type to go get 'em, considering the convo before... guess i don't gotta worry' bout you after all! ❞   

her smile fades to neutrality at mere mention of her... "new" found acquaintance.   ❝ he'll be all right, ❞   she scoffs, acid lacing the latter half of her biting statement.   ❝ i'm sure he wouldn't give two shits. all the more reason to fuck around. he doesn't know me. ❞   her fingers fold into her palms, eyes boring into her thighs as the thought weighs down her head.    ( not anymore. )   

with that, she lays down, facing the couch cushions instead of shi-long, forcing scorned eyes closed and pushing out the thought of her trial and their conversation after the fact. of ray, most of all. perhaps another drink would be a boon.

ghostly footsteps drift to where the baijiu had been abandoned, furious fingers gripping the bottle neck with a deathly grip, gulping down what she could stomach.   ❝ remind me... t'buy you a new bottle, 'kay? ❞   she gurgles, dragging her wrist along her lips, then raising both arms to rub her eyes in a half - assed stretch.

it hits like a truck in moments, her stomach unequipped and mildly empty, but the throbbing headache is welcome when pit against stabbing heartbreak. staggering back to the couch, with usually nimble feet entangled amidst their clouded struggle, she flops down, draping her body along the edge of the cushions, while the other half hangs freely, lazily.   ❝ g'night, xiao lang. ❞   

" looks like you had a long night. " a smile as cigarette lay balanced between fingers, smoke trailing upwards where the scent would linger for days within strands of cobalt and midnight. if a defense was needed for what may have come off as a rude statement, said defense wold be that rogue hadn't meant any harm ─── she was simply pointing out the obvious ; long nights were easy to see. they plastered themselves on faces, wormed their way into sluggish movements and moments of unwarranted frustration.

something that she would know better than most, given that most ( if not all ) of her own nights were long, long, LONG.

———— 🖤┊   ❝ I WAS NOT AWARE that short ones existed, ❞   fangs lash out, not at kindred commentary, but at the night itself, a specter whose flesh would not rend by scathing statements alone. bags rest beneath tired eyes, their weight drowning any semblance of sardonic smile strung along her bitter lips. glitter and glamour enveloped her physique, a dainty blue dress with sleeves as sleek as a mermaid's tail, but merely juxtaposed against a mien veiled in vitriol.

❝ would that they had better ends, ❞   she murmurs, elbow propping palm, which thus bolstered her cheek.   ❝ but they didn't deserve them. the men i killed tonight, not the story i will tell. i quite think the recount satisfactory; after all, who does not love a tale of triumph, of rescue, of righteous castration? a bastard cop, that's who — so tell me if that fits your career path, and we'll instead talk about reconsidering your life choices. ❞   

The gun, of course. This lustrous, lovely, terrifying and feminine creature, he could not turn his nose up at. He would be caught peeking downwards, gazing at those star like dusting across her body, like tiny bursting pink azaleas. How she moved so smoothly in the waters, like it was there to support her, and everything else was anchored like stage props to better suit the form and curves of her body. Where was his mind? Wherever his eyes were at, for the moment.

Vash found chuckles bubbling from a tightly held breath from his chest. Bad habit of those who were often confronted with consequences with little to no action on their part.

"Ah, yeah, it's no...." Sea-people didn't have ... well, a lot of things. He spat out what he imagined would be closest to a bowl of grapes. "-Plate of oysters to lug that thing around for a human like me. This," he gestures to the empty space from about his shoulder to where his other hand would have been, " Isn't coming back. But, who can I blame?"

He had turned away with his back to her, coughing harshly as he thumped his foot rhythmically, trying to redirect the flow of warmth to all limbs, and not just from north to south along his spine.

"But I've noticed... I'd probably still feel as light if you're the one looking at me."

———— 🖤┊   ❝ I SEE, ❞   she nods sagely, whilst not seeing at all. how peculiar his comparison, how strange his physique. to think this was the species that fished her kind from the depths, no man's land, to bequeath upon their people a siren's song. she supposed some of these naked primates cute; at least, this one. when he turns back, she is upon him, attempting to reconnect his arm    ( as gingerly as she could, for while her limbs regenerated with even the most serrated of slices, she doubted his frail flesh would take kindly to roughhousing ).  

❝ my name is— ❞   she begins, her tongue bursting into a cacophony of colors made manifest by vocals unfathomable to human ears. inside that maw, lining where one's cheeks would be, glows pale pink akin to that of the ends of her tentacle - like "hair", sparkling just the same.   ❝ —but you can call me luna, ❞   ends the monstrous hymn, as soothing as it is striking.   ❝ i wouldn't love a thing like me. or anything that even looked like me, ❞   she adds with a warm titter, fingers splayed across peachy lips.   ❝ the idea, perhaps. but had you not been a better man, i would have rend your jugular from its place and kissed you with it still fresh in my mouth. and my sisters may still, so let us get you off to safer waters. here, ❞   she murmurs, shrugging his coat from her shoulders.

@lovlorne, continued from a certain meeting

MAN,   SHIT   HAPPENS.   he   would   know   that   better   than   most;   his   mother   may   as   well   have   given   birth   to   the   sentiment.   speak   not   of   how,   when   achilles   is   abound   &&   on   the   move,   shit   happens.   never   lend   an   ear   to   any   who   warn   of   the   fact   that,   when   he   dares   to   stalk   the   mortal   world   in   search   of   beasts   to   best   &&   foes   to   slaughter,   shit   happens.   by   the   light   of   the   fucking   gods   —   zeus   &&   all   his   fellows   —   shit   happens.    when   she   says   it,   unknowing   of   all   the   things   he’s   done   to   make   shit   happen,   it   draws   a   snort   out   of   him.   only   a   little   one.   just   enough   to   be   heard.       ❝   yeah,   no,   shit   happens,   ❞   achilles   rests   his   right   hand   on   the   back   of   his   neck,   head   tilting   to   the   side   ever   so   faintly   like   a   perplexed   dog;   like   a   hound   of   war   who’s   still   adjusting   to   civilian   life,   far   from   the   battlefield   he   once   called   home.   he   clicks   his   tongue   ‘gainst   the   roof   of   his   mouth,   considers   the   situation   again,   &&   comes   to   a   decision.   it   is   not   a   particularly   wise   one,   but   it   is   rooted   in   his   good   nature   (what   little   remains   of   it.)    ❝   again,   i   know   it’s   -   this   has   to   be   fucking   creepy,   but…   do   you   want   scary   dog   privileges?   that’s   what   they   call   it   now,   right   ?   ❞   he   gestures   to      himself   -   ah,   he   is   indeed   aware   of   how   he   presents   -   &&   adds,   ❝   or   i   can   give   you   a   ride,   just…   not   a   fan   of   someone   walking   alone.   never   leads   to   anything   good.   ❞     

———— 🖤┊   'TWAS NOTHING NEW TO HER,   though invariably riveting nevertheless: men needn't harbor fear when oft were they its herald. what she challenged was the merit in which they donned this blinding cape — be it ignorance, hubris, or raw power, what was it that left their ilk impervious to what mortality must yield to? whilst she prided herself on carelessly, effortlessly hitting the bullseye, this one left her dart hand questioning still: had death grown averse to he, or had he not yet the pleasure of its near embrace?

she knew intimately of the latter; when those very men cried beneath her blade, the straddling she offered not one they anticipated, for their ribcage buckled beneath hefty thighs and shattered, puncturing their ribs as bitterly as her serrated knife did their carotid artery. and, while she loathed the odds should blood need spill, she opted to believe this stranger had the blessing of the former.

even stranger: he wielded this strength in favor of the weak   ( supposedly. she knew not his intent, and he, not her murderous nature ). so be it — she would throw her lot in with him, for even should her neck be put on a pike, it would be brought about by someone she thought intriguing, rather than an inconsequential speck in a sea of monsters and men.

❝ you are so odd, ❞   she giggles earnestly as she breaks silence, a harmonic, sweet chime unlike the bell that eventually tolls for all.   ❝ i question how 'scary' you are, looks aside, considering the niceties you bestow upon me, but i know better to judge book by cover. ❞   and surely does he too.   ❝ but i can admit that i could use that right now. i will be frank with you... i am on foot because my driver was trying to kidnap me. a ride, and such privileges, would be much obliged, if you could think of a way to be repaid. ❞   

———— 💔┊   SHE WANTED TO— NEITHER.   had she more than the illusion of choice, it would be neither: they would be ushered into a lengthy limo, carpet rolled beneath their feet as they glide along the finest leathers, tanned from a buffalo felled purely for sport from land casually purchased in wyoming.   ❝ ssss...sit, ❞   slithers out from betwixt gritted teeth.   ( still 86 percent... )   she checks a mere two minutes after checking previously. the screen flickering on and off would do little for the battery she so coveted, but her sanity could only be satiated through proof.   ❝ o-okay. lead the way! ❞   a faux lilt of excitement ekes out from a smile whose threads fray at the ends, failing to keep the edges of her lips aloft.

" Bed's better. Couch's not - " And then pausing, as he... remembers he offered it first. Shi-Long drops the rest of the bedding on the furniture in favor of a new action, which sends him into the kitchen, and then returning with a canister. Wipes are pulled out, and though he's swaying just a bit while taking on the task, his golden eyes are focused. It only takes a minute to have the dust wiped away, and smelling fresh. Who said he wasn't a good host?

The former officer gestures widely to her options once more with both hands, and then wavering off when he stares too long at the Futon. He then throws off an idea with his hand, flicking it lazily in the air. " Shower? Bedroom." Something in his mind didn't want to play long with the risks of being drunk and slippery- best to let her have the first pick of anything, after a long day like this."... Guess I could sit down in the tub if I really wanted to,"He murmurs, and then eases, slowly, slowly to the floor, arms outstretched to the walls for support. "Do what you need to do. Everything's at your disposal." Once seated, he begins a series of stretches- rather methodical, slow. It might be yoga from memory.

———— 🖤┊   EYES CRAWL DOWN HIS SPINE   as he turns to grant her wishes, only relenting when pajama perusal takes priority. with gratitude offered aloud, she pulls the silken blouse to her torso, pinching it at the shoulders to guesstimate its length. that scrutinizing stare renews its persistent place upon him when erupting cacophony catches her attention.   ❝ careful, ❞   she chides gently, glancing over his unsteady stance before narrowing her eyes at what appeared to be a scar.

curiosity killed the cat... or would, had she energy to inquire further after their lengthy conversation. rather than risk forgetting, stylish nails peck at phone screen, leaving a record to query his wound in the morning   ( she could only pray her future self could comprehend drunken short hand notation ).  

amidst her hurried scribe, his voice rings out, halting hovered fingers.    ❝ didn't know you wanted me in your bed so bad, ❞   she scoffs, a fragment of her buoyant confidence returning to tease.   ❝ 'kay. i'll be right back, ❞   she nods, trotting off with her haul in hand after studying his movements and   ( attempting to, if one was being gracious )   memorizing the schedule.    ( meh. just don't go outside. got it. )   

while her eta could use some fine - tuning, she does return, albeit drowsily, donning the top as it falls just to her thighs. sprawling along the couch is a dangerous game, for her eyes flutter and threaten closure. refusal to give in results in a slow drawl that toted another question on its back.   ❝ so... why aren't you sleeping in your bed? ❞