💋 ⌇ REBEL HEART.

✶  yang hye ji  via  instagram  !

He and Annaki were seated together at one of the booths, patiently ( or rather, half patiently, as the only virtue he reserved of it in spades was for his fiancée ) awaiting the arrival of the blonde's pink-and-black haired counterpart. A cup of coffee sat barely touched at Cyrek's fingertips, zoning away from the newscasting on the television to the window of the café and idly following the streaks of passing cars. Within the next few months, the snow would begin to thin out as the days stretched to never-ending, and tourist numbers would hike further with the promise of cruise ships, which meant an uptick in cons and hustles for he and Stella to plot out and scam a few bucks out of unwitting passerby. His thoughts were almost a million miles from the gang's endeavors, however, with wedding planning dominating his mind and a majority of their evening conversations besides the everything and nothing that they could talk about and the how was your day, and the backburner of his thoughts was lent toward the squabble with the Adler half of his family more than the headlines chalking Josette Leighton as a person of interest. "Took you long enough," he acknowledged when Alizka's bag hit the booth, rolling his eyes unsubtly at them and sliding a laminated menu across, "Last person at the table gets to foot the bill. I'm gettin' a big stack of hotcakes now just to fuck with you." As if his stomach could totally stand that much dense carbs and starch in it yet — but he was trying and scheduled for a follow-up due March. "What was so important we couldn't all ring in on the same landline?"

“I would fucking love to kick your ass right now, but we’re in public, and I’m trying to be civil... so shut the hell up.” Alizka didn’t bother looking at her brother, but they scooted into the booth next to Annaki and squeezed her hand. Her mind was running at a hundred miles per hour; either that or she wasn’t taking care of herself as much as she should—also known as having low blood sugar. “Wait, if you order a big stack of hotcakes, I doubt your body can take it—” They paused, stopping themselves from throwing an insult. “That’s not what we’re here for, you moron, but Ros.” Alizka didn’t know where to start, mustering a lowly insulting her brother’s way. Their hands were moving in a circular motion, attempting to think slowly. “As much as I hate to mention mom’s death, everything has been so strange. And by everything, I mean Rosalind. Cy—she’s our younger sister, so, like, who gives a shit about blood-relations and stuff—ANYWAY, she’s behaving so strangely for—how long, Naki?” She looks at her sister, trying to remember the weirdness of what has transpired. Every single passing day—well, the behaviors surrounding their family, mostly. “I’ve got a lot going on right now. I’m sorry we didn’t ring on the same landline, your majesty,” Liz rolled her eyes and continued, “it’d be better in person, trust me.” Not only was she still trying to figure out how Zeliha ended up in the basement of the mall, but Rosalind’s behavior had her raising some questions. “I don’t even know where to start, and all I can think about is Mom.” / @wiithstars

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every time rosalind closed her eyes, it was there. it had made a point to taunt her, particularly in the haunted house when it hadn't even been cutting off her oxygen supply. "liz-" ros continued to sob. she'd thought her parents had been pulling her back initially but now, there was a thought that it was a rather dark entity that had latched onto her and demanded to be seen and to control. "she's gone. i'm not bad. he's bad. he's bad and won't leave me alone." rosalind was tensing their frame, feeling scared that the puppet would make a reappearance. rosalind backed away from alizka to keep themselves away. "stop!" it was hard to shake the feeling. rosalind thought that she was being called back but perhaps they'd been mistaken all along.

alizka was all over the place ( in their own unique way ), but they were taken aback by what rosalind mentioned. what was this it they were talking about? “woah, of course, you’re not bad but help me understand.” alizka felt like the shittiest sister ever for not offering ros help of any kind. who knew if the supposed family ‘intervention’ they had ( excluding their parents, of course ) even helped. “yeah... she’s gone.” alizka grew quiet, and honestly, very upset. perplexed. he’s bad and won’t leave me alone. what on earth was ros blabbering on about? she was stunned by how rosalind just backed away from her and didn’t know what to do. “what, what, what?!” her tone was neutral but frustration could be sensed from both ends. “ros, stop, for fucking sake—you need serious help.”

A cup of hot chocolate was swirled in his hand, posing in place of the unappetizing punch that he'd glanced over at the brew, mid-sip when he was assailed by intruding fingernails digging into him from behind, a masterful touch he didn't recognize as Stella's sending him whipping around. The hot chocolate spilled recklessly onto the ground when he pulled back his free hand to sock the stranger in the face — "ALIZKA." His voice carried across the bonfire with the same belligerence that would scold the younger when they were shorter than their presently unremarkable height and still sporting pimples, the blow landing softer against their shoulder but with enough force to jostle them, bristling. "Fuck you!"

they were shocked that he had enough force to jostle them and had AMAZING reflexes to avoid him socking their face, instead receiving a soft punch to the arm. thankfully, it wasn’t through the bonfire. cyrek was lucky they were family; if not, she would have nailed him with her heels. fortunately, the kids were present. “the DRAMA QUEEN you are, my god—you’re lucky we’re in public, or i’d go john wick on your ass.” they did not know how to fight; however, they are known to be quite feisty whenever necessary ( in their own terms ) or whenever they are permitted. as long as they don’t go to jail, right? it was humorous to think they would be able to kick his feeble ass. well, it gave them solace to believe. it has been a long night and they were dressed as cartoon characters from the early 2000s. they were ALL for it; don’t get them wrong, but fuck halloween. “love you too—can you switch shoes with me. i feel like my feet are about to anchor themselves into the freaking ground.” they switched so quickly from being playful to asking for help. “please,” a chuckle escaped from her mouth.

thinking about everything was making rosalind physically sick - eliana had done right by rosalind lim, always, even if they clashed and now she was gone at the fault of the youngest lim sibling's hand (from rosalind's point of view). "liz." her breath caught in her throat as she started to sob. rosalind's siblings had organised an intervention of some sorts as they had all been worried and now, it looked like it was a little too late. the puppet wouldn't leave her alone and it felt supernatural. it comes in threes and at each awful experience this past year, the puppet had always been present. however, rosalind still had their wits and telling the police that they were looking for a puppet meant getting laughed at by officers; they weren't able to tell the truth. "i can't believe it-" it was only once - it didn't make the delusion right or the fact she ran away from what she'd done right but how could it be enough to kill her? was she that strong? had the puppet gone back to make sure it was done. "did he make sure of it?" she voiced out loud, a lump evident in her throat as tears streamed down.

before alizka could mutter a word after being called, she noticed ros had started to sob and caressed their back—sadly unsure of how to comfort someone crying but knowing that they were both hurting. liz searched for their sister’s hand and held it as tightly as they could. “ros,” they spoke calmly yet lethargic. more than anything, alizka wanted to let her sister know that everything would be all right, but it was a time of uncertainty. surely, it would, but it was a matter of knowing when. after their mother’s sudden death, it felt quite odd to be optimistic. a piece of alizka was vacant and gone in a blink of an eye. something felt off, but not knowing what was starting to piss her off. eliana was gone, just like that. now it was time to plan a funeral. was an autopsy necessary? they were lost in their mind, thoughts going at a hundred miles per hour, but couldn’t quite make out what ros said. “what was that? he who?”

Salem would follow a select handful of people to the ends of the earth. Her loyalty was unmatched since birth, and the morbidity of jokes that used to glide past her lips effortlessly had been anything but a deterrent of the person that she had met at a college party she'd been invited to. There were only two people on the planet that knew of her secret and Siobhan's real whereabouts ( there was a third, but she would exclude her godfather from the equation, on account of the fact that he was, well, her godfather. ) "You want me to squeeze my ass through that?" She was already getting onto her hands and knees seconds after gesticulating for the crammed opening between the boarded up entrance to the abandoned Terminal that lay on a vacated side of the mall, looking over her shoulder for any signs of the mall security. "I better not be the only one getting in here. What exactly are we after again?" See, the team medium was less of the technicalities that went into ghost hunting — as the team leader, Alizka was the one responsible for organizing everyone and picking out technical equipment, and what-have-you, and finding their next haunt. Breaking and entering was exciting, however, and nowhere near a first for the firebrand — just a first since she had been thrust with the care of her niece. "I can smell the mildew from here," she remarked flatly, as she started to ease herself through what was essentially a crack in the wall, "And if I get chased by a serial killer wielding a fucking axe on the other side of this wall, you'll have to come to my rescue."

alizka raised her hands in the air almost like she was in yielding mode. of course, she was only kidding. or was she? she rolled her eyes and spoke quietly to salem, closing her eyes to calm herself before losing her shit. “if you want me to go first then just say so, salem. now, hurry the fuck up before security sees me and i kick your ass into the fucking wall.” alizka was already on her hands and knees, willing to get their hands filthily dirty; anything for answers. the investigator’s eyes were squinted while glancing her attention to her companion, “of course not, but don’t give me ideas—why would i do that?” just to be a pain in the ass, alizka acted like she didn’t know what the medium was on about. bless her heart, she thought. “i should’ve brought masks. shit.” she remarked flatly, cursing herself a bit, and still followed behind her friend / coworker. “lucking for you, i know how to fight.” as a matter of fact, alizka does not know how to fight. “an axe? don’t be ridiculous ... we’re not in a typical nineties horror movie—don’t jinx us though.”

siyeon ☆ dreamcatcher // 240219 warsaw fancam by me

He could safely say that, despite his own family having issues that were impossible to fix or address without the potential for bloodshed or homicide, the Moschetti clan's gathering seemed like a better bet. After Astarion had mentioned his worries in passing to his siblings, it was Alizka who had posed the idea for an intervention, of sorts, to address the recrudesce of Rosalind's mental state. Especially after Halloween had come to pass, he would be remiss if he didn't broach concern about the youngest's temperamental outbursts and increasingly uneven, almost secretive, demeanor. The two had spoken about it last over the other's booth at Pride — and that was enough to tip the scales when he left the conversation feeling as if they hadn't truly been addressing the same thing. Plus, Rosalind asking cryptic questions about her parents calling her back to them read like a seedling for a psychotic break bound to happen or... something. Whatever was brewing on the horizon, none of it was good. "It's been a while since we've all been together for something, hasn't it?" he addressed the group, absent of their parents who were cooking in the kitchen for the holiday dinner, "I don't think any of us have seen anything of you since Halloween, Rosie. Is everything alright?" / @wiithstars

Smoke was ascending from the lit end of his cigarette as he stood in the parking garage, watching Alizka dig through their purse in an effort to find where they had written down the row number they had parked in. An air of exhaustion was haunting the trio, nothing won from the past twelve hours except dread and anxiety. Talking Annaki down from the terror incited by Alice's mental state ( a product of what he presumed to be blood loss, ) as well as waiting for the results of the major surgery, had done a number on him. That, and he should have been in bed hours ago after dosing his medications. He would have gone straight home, too, but Annaki insisted on a companion for the evening, and he'd begrudgingly agreed to follow along. "Did either of you see what she was talking about? At the festival. Before we left." He had been drumming up probabilities all evening, that someone may have caught on and chased after them to the sepulture. Why, he didn't really know. It could easily be the companion of paranoia whispering into his ear, and the rest of the night's transpirations had already lumped together into an indiscernible blur once he'd crumpled into the witting dirges of his tortuous mind. At least he had pulled himself out of the cusp of his catatonic state, save for his involuntary twitching and the random repetition of words spoken to him — he was present mindfully, which was surely the important part. Taking another drag from the cigarette in hand, he glanced between their faces, adding, "She said they were dressed like a cowboy. He? I think. I didn't see him... I think."

They were trying not to frown too hard at the odd, gelatinous dessert that had a mind of its own on their plate — as a die-hard lover of jam, they didn't mind anything with a jello texture, but its sad frown and ghoulish little arms carved into the sides of the black blob were truly heart-wrenching. "It's almost too cute to eat," they told the person who sat down next to them at the bonfire, shaking their plate around as they giggled, "And he knows how to dance, too! Aren't you adorable, little guy?" Turning their head, their blonde hair whipped over their shoulder ( an emboldened return in the namesake of their outfit, as they gleefully giggled to Stella that they almost matched now, ) and a full-fledged smile dawned upon their countenance as they tried to strike up a conversation with the other person, whether they were acquainted or not. "I was wondering if ya have any PG scary stories to talk about. 'Cause I'm real fine with ghosts and ghouls, but I think I'll pee my pants and stay up all night if I start hearing about soul-suckers or like, intestines." As if to prove their point of making a new campfire buddy, they pointedly scooted closer to them, their wings shifting and flapping upon their own accord with the momentum of their body. "Do ya wanna be my partner when they start playing the Monster Mash?" they pressed, glancing a few feet away from the bonfire where people had started to accrue and dance their hearts out.

they chuckled, overhearing the other’s comment about the gooey gelatinous dessert. they were right; it was cute and could dance but alizka wouldn’t dare succumb to admitting that. perhaps eating one wouldn’t hurt them, and they could only hope their brother would miss them eating sweets. alizka was a bit COLD and thankfully they decided to bring a jacket with them to the bonfire. “honestly, i don’t have any scary PG stories—i mean, i have made attempts of doing ghost hunting but i haven’t been scared out of my witts. well... not yet.” they looked at them. “what do you mean by intestines though? d’ya mean the ones from the alien movies or whatever?” a brow furrows at the thought of it; they have a point. that’d be their limit too. “aren’t you cold?” they asked them, not minding that they’d scooted closer to them. “monster mash?! i don’t even know the choreography for the song,” alizka commented, not exactly giving an answer but neither opposing the idea.

"Yah, why are you running? Slow down," the eldest triplet trudged several feet behind Alizka, despite the long strides being taken to cover more ground. ( One would think it was his lungs that had been replaced, not his heart. ) "You know my feet hurt when my legs are mummified like this." The lymphedema bandages reasonably restricted his movements and pacing, moreso out of the discomfort of the swollen appendages and his own unwillingness to deal with any blistering and leaking through fine nicks in the skin. As he trekked after them, he glanced at the harrowing damages of the razed vineyard, and grimaced inwardly at the thought of how much money and effort would be poured into revitalizing the crop. Their profits would take a hit, doubtlessly, but he was optimistic that Micah would balance it out by levying focus on Blood for Beauty's works in progress. As he rounded the corner to meet them, he recoiled reflexively at the ominous sight of their silhouette waiting to startle him, whining, "You know how expensive it was to get a heart transplant, do you want to pay for my next one?" Dropping his hands away from his vanity, he looked over his shoulder. "I don't think we should stray too far from the appraiser. Micah doesn't want him to touch the antique vases inside the building..." Trailing off, grey orbs fixated back on her, half-admiring her purple-and-black mess of locks. "I suppose you have yet to hear anything of your boss. Zeliha... was it? We had a few loans struck with them. I don't know if it would lead to anything, but if you'd like to give it a look."

“yah, why are you so annoying?” alizka was like a roaming toddler, arriving at the vineyard. “oh,” she felt strong emotion from being confined. “hajima! do i have to remind you that you’re the brother here? you’re not eomma... shut up.” their eyes rolled so far back that all you could see was their scleras. her brother’s whining annoyed her, but he was somewhat delicate. let’s put it that way so dear brother doesn’t end up keeling over. alizka stopped running, hiding in the corner, and did not know their silhouette could be seen. she’s not the brightest tool in the shed... obviously. “it’s sweet of you to think i have the means to pay for your transplant - i’d start a fundraiser for you, so nope.” alizka pinched his nose with her rejection. oh my. how, in the world, would she be able to prevent herself from touching all the vases in the building? “fine, i won’t touch a single thing in here. promise. let’s hold hands,” she remarked out of the blue. if you don’t want her to touch delicate things, hands must be held; they don’t make the rules. “mhm, zeliha—you do?! if you do, i have to take you up on that offer because not hearing a word from her’s stressing me out—so why’re we here again?”