INTEND TO?

Teeth bare in insignificant grimace–broken jaw may be what he had deserved, silly man with silly thoughts, but it would have come with so many inconveniences. Can’t kiss anybody like that, and present company included, there were many people he enjoyed kissing. Though, he wasn’t particularly put off at the prospect of sticking to kissing just one person for a while–tear and wear was catching up, and getting around was just getting to be plain too much work. Might tarnish his reputation some, but eh, he could live with it. 

   “Long as I’m alive an’ kicking, huh? Ya’ve got th’ more dangerous life, better not kick th’ bucket on me yerself.”   It was as close to plain concern as he’d get–there was always a pit of worry at his stomach that grew the longer between visits they went. He knew the sorts of business the wolf got up to, and had even sent some his way from time to time. The guilds mostly sorted themselves out sure, made sure to nip their own problems in the bud, and he oft the blade to do so, but resources could get thin. They were getting better, the Union and Altosk built back up enough to handle matters without resorting to extremes, but there were still plenty of ne’er-do-wells that remembered how easy they fell before, ready to knock them back down again.

Brows rose–to… what? Catch a drink? Get a meal? Head to his place? Gotta admit, he was a little hesitant to rush into anything more than heavy petting. Wasn’t quite sure what to do, which was a strange thing to say, having thought himself quite the adept lover before this moment. Supposed there was only one way to find out–and besides, it’d been some time since they’d had a proper meet up. Had to get his fill of company to make sure the young pup was alright. Make sure he got some food in him and took a breather and all. Boy took things way too seriously on his own.

So he pulls his hands back to himself and shoves them in his pockets, hoping to pull off his own standard nonchalance, goofy grin a bit more lopsided and off-kilter than normal, albeit with a buzz, a waver of excitement.   “Lead th’ way. Not like I had pressin’ business. I’m all yours fer th’ afternoon. Maybe even th’ night.”   A playful nudge is given as he moves to take his place beside the wolf, elbow catching to signal continued interest, and that, yes, he will be walking too close to be properly comfortable, and that maybe, if Yuri asks nice enough, he’ll even hold hands, watching eyes be damned. He’d bet his gald someone had already seen that kiss and he’d catch a good heckle later, so he might as well make it something of a proper show, if his partner didn’t mind playing a role.

Strange day this, but he’s thinking it a good day. Yuri’s back at his side and they’ve time to spend together, and that’s all that really matters. Why, it’s so good a day, he almost feels like whistling.

death followed him like a shadow, ever creeping in the peripheral of his vision, awaiting the day he would fall unto the earth, breathing labored  /  heart frantically beating. to enlist another to take part in such a life was ridiculous ------ it was, mainly, the reason he set off on his own, away from brave vesperia; away from the capital; away from the new, ambitious commandant. his presence alone serves as a curse, never to be lifted, not even when the sun shone so brightly as if the world truly felt peace. he’s selfish to indulge in this moment, in this offering of affection. yet, he does so anyway. ❝  haven’t died yet, have i?  ❞  a taunt leaves his lips, accompanying a wave of his hand. something to further the guise of nonchalance. 

there will be more blood in the days to come, he knows this much; but, at least, he’s someone in his heart to quell the dread of another day. 

when soles begin their own beat against the pavement, he’s all but forgot the thoughts of bloodshed and corpses lying in a path he’s created. instead, he focuses on the slight nudge to his ribcage. lips curl almost mischievously, hungrily, like the true beast he has slumbering within that ivory cage of his ----- the very same guarding his heart.  ❝  free schedule, huh ------ aren’t i lucky, then.  ❞ 

though, admittedly, he hadn’t planned so far in advance. honestly, his mind hadn’t even processed the events that already took place. so when he begins to walk forward, he’s not entirely sure where he’s leading himself. perhaps, it’s been far too long since he engaged in any sort of intimacy. the heat of another’s body so close to his own had been a feeling he’s long since forgotten, almost erased. if he could pretend to be cold, he would always have ice in his veins. but it never truly worked that way, did it? especially not now, when he relishes in the presence of another beside him. how the small smile ‘pon his lips does not fade, not even as his conscious argues that he did not deserve such peace.

“ yuri. “          spoken sternly enough that the other should know what’s to follow:   some reprimand or another;   perhaps a remark regarding his latest rebellion against the higher-ups wishes.   sephiroth’s less than amused,   rest assured.   mostly,   he’s exasperated.   let it never be said that his junior-in-rank was anything but tenacious.           “ you’re still here.  “               (   @murderaer​   ,   yuri )  !

yuri voice :

@murderaer·

   “Yuri.”   Cold steel rings out–it’s all he has left for the man that was once his best friend, once family, and the ring of a blade leaving its sheath follows the ring of his voice. There’s a sneer on his lips, a furrow in his brow, and contrary to commanding tone and careful put together bearing, the determination in his gaze wavers. There’s a reason the wolf remains at large, after all, the huntsman too soft in his memory of shared years. He lets his men keep up the hunt, wishes for their success, but his being is flawed, there was a mistake in his making, and a weakness in his steel. 

   “I’m placing you under arrest, for your countless crimes.”   The fire from his temper comes through–he doesn’t see it as black and white as his words might convey, truly. He understands Yuri’s methods, his anger, more than he’d ever let on. But he’s known, since young, since he’d first been old enough to understand the concept of Justice, what the correct way to uphold justness and rightness was–it was laying plans, it was foresight, it was protecting not just those who lived now, but would live later.

Yuri’s methods were vulgar, hideous. They didn’t weed out the corruption–merely left holes for more to take root. The wolf’s teeth were sharp, swift–but mindless. He’d had his own taste of the foul meat himself, back with Garista, and he’d sworn never again. It didn’t fix anything, their messy confrontation, the scholar’s righteous death–the men behind it, the ones who funded and profited off the research still lived. And yet, again, with Alexei, the taste still lingering to the day, sour with the prominence felt unearned, and dissent to deal with. Weeding was a slow, messy process, one that didn’t seem to show progress, but with due diligence, he’d one day have his fields in order. As a gardener, the wolf was too quick to pull, too hasty and impatient, left too much mess behind. Long before now, he’d become a pest in his own right.

   “Though I suppose you won’t come quietly.”   Habit, fondness creeps back in, wringing lips to wry facsimile of a grin. Battle with the wolf was always exhilarating, wild, fun–but how uncouth it was to show such lust for combat, how immoral it felt, to wish this was a simple bout for old times’ sake instead of crossing blades with a murderer, and finding only weakness in his resolve, doubt that he could finish the deed. That he could uphold his Justice.

lips pull into an impish grin, something so familiar ----- like a chid who’d just gotten caught stealing an apple from a local merchant. ❝ took you long enough. ❞ a rather bold display of malevolence. anger, fury and vitriol created this foul being  :  nefarious, vengeful, bitter. he would soon come to despise the empire as a whole, all knights included. boundless resolve saw fit to exterminate corruption, granting oppressors a swift, clean death by a sword to their throat. twisted sense of justice only worsened with age, growing stronger and more violent with time. such is the reason he’s even left brave vesperia, to leave their reputation in tact. the only name that would be sullied would be his own. with each day, his wanted poster grew larger in reward, something he oddly took pride in. it meant he’d gotten their attention. 

there were only so many places he could run, his name and face were far more recognizable than what it once was. knights memorized his face, telltale signs of his arrival in a city, and even the press of his knuckles to their jaws. this dark form vigilantism, as some would call it, birthed a villain, one who took no pity in the face of weeping nobles, begging for their lives. but know this, he did not take the lives of those he deemed innocent. such is the reason he does not draw his blade. not yet. flynn had yet to dip into the world of political corruption; he’d only become a minor nuisance, an inconvenience. his self - righteous nature would never allow him become something so monstrous and criminal. it’s the reason yuri had chosen not to slaughter his soldiers when they’d located his trail. 

one corrupt life in exchange for the peace and safety of all those who held no voice in society; all those abused by the powers of the rich and wealthy. the imbalance in the world, that he contributed to, forced a new breed of corruption to worm its way into society. yuri, being slightly at fault, felt it was his responsibility exterminate it. ❝ no need for your big boy voice, flynn. i hear you loud and clear. ❞ 

Shoulders rolled, and the way his eyes flit up could be construed as an annoyed roll, disinterest or dislike for words thrown back his way. Nothing at all to do with the stiffness, the weariness of those bones and pained pull of muscles, his breath that was so barely kept normal. Ghost pains burned on his chest, on his blastia, scars all crying out, their tales to be remembered.

   “Yeah, yeah. Don’ worry ‘bout it. I’ll get th’ job done.”   He’s trying too hard, prickled edges seeping into his casual tone. A good thing no one seemed to want to look at him too long, see the shake of his hands and bags under his eyes. Was there really any edge to his tone, or was it their own anger and muddled feelings making them hear it? Try a little harder, and he’ll have them thinking it’s the latter.   “I mean, c’mon, gimme a break–! Ain’t like footin’ here’s all that steady.”

a halt in stride. stubborn determination of mind and heart scold’s him for his immobility. in an act of defiance, fists clench at his side. there is anger boiling ‘neath his flesh, mostly unresolved. acid in his veins, searing the flesh from the inside. wounds only he would feel; burns only he could understand. ❝ if you need a break, take it. but i can’t guarantee they won’t leave us behind. ❞  ‘ us, ’ he says. he means it not out of some heartfelt act of protection, but rather as if it were some task forcibly thrust onto him. raven’s life belonged to brave vesperia, and though it was a job none other wanted to claim, yuri would ensure all the lives of brave vesperia’s members were very much alive.