; z e n i t h

Mirrors: What is your muse’s least favorite thing about their appearance?

Either his jawline, for being so slim and not as sharp as he'd like, or his ears. They're just big. Like they're not RIDICULOUSLY large or anything, but he's always felt like they were just like... 2% too big for his face.

Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back.

ᴋᴀʟᴏᴘꜱɪᴀ — the delusion of things being more beautiful than they are

Marcus Aiden Armitage has had his heart broken so many times he's stopped keeping track. 

The curse of a hopeless romantic, he supposes. A many who wholeheartedly believes in fate, soulmates, twin-flames and whatnot is simply bound to face the pain of a broken heart once or twice in his lifetime, and that's for your average human lifespan. Alas, Aiden has had his heart broken by a few fair women and he's broken many a heart in return.

In fairness, it'd been quite some time since Aiden's felt the ache in his chest. Most, if not all of his lovers had held his affections some three-or-four-hundred years ago. If the man thought about it for long enough, he imagines he could recall what those endings felt like. He could allow himself to remember the finality of it all, the sense of loss—

So why did that familiar burning, aching, tearing in his heart feel nothing like that now?

Hours dragged by, and she’d easily run out of things to do. Thanks to her workaholic work ethic, she had no code to restructure, no digital architecture to plan out–nothing. She’d exhausted all work-related avenues before she decided to start working on something a little top secret. At least for now. She’d show someone when the time was right. 

It was in the throes of this that she heard a knock at her door. With some swiftness, she closed her laptop on the application she was working on and smiled as she turned in her chair to reveal her boss, his tall frame leaning against the doorframe to her office. Her eyes took in his meticulously crisp appearance before she looked away, hoping she hadn’t stared at him for too long. “Fun…if only I knew what it meant,” she joked, before scrunching her nose. “But I hear the party is for you. You’re kind of late if that’s the case.”

The man hummed, “Hn, not late enough, as luck would have it. A proper shame, really.” a sigh passed through his lips and he desperately wished a puff of smoke could have followed. he made it a point not to smoke in the building if he could avoid it, or at the very least, keep it to his office if he couldn’t afford to step out, and a smoke break sounded delicious right about now. Anything to postpone having to sit through the affair that is birthday parties with Veritas. 

It wasn’t that he had anything against Veritas— the majority of them, at least. The majority of the members, in some respect, were his family. An odd thought, but a fact. To an extent, he could deal with loud from his family. He practically grew up with Joon, after all. If he could handle seeing Joon develop through adolescence into adulthood, into whatever it was that they were at 500-something.

Five-hundred and twenty five, a somber voice in the back of his mind whispered. How many of those without your sweet Amelie?

He shook his head lightly, willing his mind back to to the present. 

Willing himself not to remember that he’d lost count years ago. 

Aiden gingerly pushed himself off the door frame and found himself stepping into the office. Stalling the inevitable, he tells himself, as his lips part to speak. His usual deep, monotonous timbre laced with a twinge of something not quite desperation, but certainly grasping towards something he already knows isn’t there. “There wouldn’t happen to be any desperate security breaches that need to be dealt with, would there? Missing merchandise? Weird security footage that needs review?”

/ˌserənˈdipədē/ — the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way || with @rocky-maneo​

There were more than a few fair things in this life that Aiden could say, with complete and total honesty, that he hated. Parties were one of those things.

Being at the center of attention during a party was another one. 

He understood that Liz only had the best intentions in mind, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He was a quiet man that preferred to keep to himself- he always had been, and more than likely he probably always would be. Parties, balls, galas- these big social gatherings would simply never quite be “his thing”, so to speak. 

The fact that he dragged on his work a little later than usual was expected, all things considered. He did a few more injections than he otherwise would have, analyzed more blood work than usual, took far more extensive notes than he’d ever taken in his life— all in the name of padding out the time before he’d have to drag himself to the cuddle room. In the end, he’d only managed to add about thirty minutes to his time, which was a right shame for the amount of extra work he’d done. The trip back to his office to change shirts quickly had only added a few extra minutes, and before long he found himself with little else to do but to make his way to the party.

The echo of the soles of his oxfords padding against the concrete floors rang through the empty halls, and the southwest wing of the base had never felt so barren (save for the wee hours of the night when the only inhabitants of the building were his fellow workaholics). It’s really no wonder that the steady clack of a keyboard caught his attention, and truly no surprise that the point of origin was Rocky’s office.

Sometimes, very rarely, Aiden wanted to punch Marc in the face.

It wasn’t very often, but when it did, the need to punch The Other Marc was almost overwhelming. But, for Liz’s sake, he would refrain from such actions. But honestly, sometime his remarks were just... throat punch worthy, if he was being entirely honest. 

“Of course I’m smiling, you moron,” he just barely managed to choke out in a tone that didn’t entirely resemble a snarl, “I’m going to see my wife soon. I get to see her for the first time in nearly 11 years. I get to bring her home. We’re making the city safe, little by little. Why on Earth would I be grimacing at that?”

Aiden punctuated his statement with a long drag of his cigarette, feeling the hot, bitter smoke burn at the back of his throat the closer and closer he got to finishing it. 

mentioned: @kittymaneo, @maneojaehyun, @maneokiha, @maneoxjsong

After all the pranks pulled by the Terror Line, Aiden was very cautious about his office. He kept it locked at all times when he wasn’t there to be physically seated at his desk, had changed the locks, added new locks, and even had asked Luca to place down protection wards to aid in keeping out unwanted precenses. 

Unwanted being the key phrase, there. Rocky was very welcome. 

Aiden suspected she had a hand in a few of the pranks, but she was an incredible worker with a brilliant mind, and more importantly, she knew how to sit in a comfortable silence. Rocky was one of the few people in the cartel who had the code to access his lab in the manufacturing bay and permission to seek him out when needed. Everyone else knew better than to ever bother the man while he was at work. 

But today was a mere follow up in his office, nothing too serious. They’d spent the better half of an hour already going over the prototype trackers for the drugs they’d discussed all those many moons ago, discussing the cost to implement it wide-spread, the potential to use them, or at least something similar, in other areas of Veritas’ business endeavours-

Punctuated by a scuffling sound.

To say that Aiden didn’t feel those words rip through his heart would be a lie. Even though he knew the Gumiho didn’t mean it, not (too) seriously anyways, he still felt the pain in his heart that liked to remind him every so often that despite his claims, he did have one. Furthermore, Kitty was in it. Kitty was so very deeply embedded in his heart that Aiden loathed the day the little fox would be torn from him. 

Kitty, of course, knew damn well that the alpha vampire was weak for him. They hadn’t spent all these years together for the blonde to not pick up on everything that made Aiden tick just so. Truly, Aiden didn’t know why Kitty didn’t use that to his advantage more often, why he only used it for things life this. 

“Kitty,” Aiden spoke softly with a light sigh before pushing himself away from his desk, rising from his chair, “Kitty, wait.” 

Aiden was different at home. He wasn’t the same rough, volatile second-in-command that snapped quick, witty retorts dripping with malice. He wasn’t one dumb comment away from a migraine, one eye roll away from murdering the whole team and replacing them with undead henchmen— he was different. He was warmth, he was strong arms wrapped gently around the young ones delicate frame. He was hushed tones, speaking softly as he murmured apologies into the curly tufts of blonde hair.

“I’m sorry, kitten. Truly, it was not my intention to upset you like this. I was merely concerned for your health and wellbeing, but if your heart truly desires it...” he sighed in relent, “then you can have more ham.” 

It, perhaps, wasn’t the most brilliant idea in the world.

Walking right up to the borders of their neighbors to the north-west without an appointment could be risky any time of year, but with the social climate being what it is in the world of the gangs it was especially ballsy.  

The girl that stopped him at the border was... small, to say the least. Small, unassuming, one of the most neutral expression he’d ever seen on someone since Rocky, and the most delightful scent wafting off her soured by the scent of dog. Despite her stature, she held herself with sheer apathetic confidence. She did not shrink away or hide from his intimidating nature— she waltzed right up to him and stopped him from moving any further by her words alone.

He liked her. 

He stared her down with an amused smirk. Under normal circumstances he’d love to mess with the girl, get under her skin, maybe even try his hand at tempting her over to the dark side, but he had incredibly time sensitive information he needed to relay.

🗼: what's one thing you've learned to take as a warning sign in any type of relationship?

🗾: a lone soldier? a social butterfly? or both?

🏗: what's your preferred method of dealing with stress?

Depends on the cause of the stressor. If it’s just stress, Aiden will often settle down with a cigarette, some whiskey, and a good book with some piano playing in the background next to a crackling fire (bonus points if it’s raining). Sometimes he needs a creative outlet, and he’ll seat himself in front of his computer and continue work on his novels. If he’s enraged, however... that gets dealt with in The Basement.

🌁: what's your idea of horribleness?