ink stains

“Yeah,” Roya nodded her head in confirmation, though her attention had long been diverted from the conversation. Her eyes raked the walls, the desk, roaming around in their search for anything of value. It was a silly habit. She hardly needed to resort to petty theft to keep her pockets overflowing with cash these days. She had made her fortune, and then some, but treachery was so ingrained in who she is. By the looks of it, there wasn’t anything of much value, anyway. The desktop was too neat, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something tucked away somewhere. “I dunno if Id call it useful, though. The streetlight was still smoking when I walked past, but it hadn’t bent or anything.”

Kazrarely thought of the safety of others. She hadn’t stopped to thinkthat the Night Monster could have hurt somebody. Frankly, she wasn’tcertain that she cared. She rarely thought to ask questions unless itserved her own motives. Whether anybody had been hurt definitely fellunder that category. “Not sure,” she admitted, raising one shoulder in ashrug. “Do you think well ever find out if it has?” Would the emperortell them exactly what had gone down, or would he see any casualties as afailing on his part, and refuse to admit his perceived mistakes? Therewas truly no way of knowing.

“Can I sit?” Kazasked. She didn’t wait for a response, simply kicking out the nearestchair with her foot and collapsing into it. It had been a long night,and she needed to rest. Her hand slipped into her pocket, fingersclosing around the cool metal of the talisman nestled there. It was acomfort to have it to hand, even if it seemed that her fortune waswearing thin tonight.

His question had herlips quirking up in amusement. If there was anything that could put asmile on her face, it was the prospect of winning. “Or two,” Kaz wasdeliberately coy, despite his admission that he was no gambler. Shewhipped out her deck, shuffling them with experienced hands. “Have youever played Bullshit? That’s an easy one to pick up.”

He frowned, mulling over her words with a soft pout on his lips. “Hm.” It seemed like the creature was going after the electricity - if the street light’s gone sizzling, but the metal itself didn’t melt at the touch, then perhaps it’s power was connected to circuits. Maybe he should hunt it down. Have it melt down his laptop, fry all the circuits in his office - now, that would be useful. He’d no longer have to worry about spies in form of tiny cameras and other bugs in the system - though, the small, painted ( but thoroughly hidden ) eyes and ears doodles he had made once, four years ago before he’d given up on his drawing and his power, had made sure to alert him if there were any... techno spies around him. Maybe he should’ve infused them with alerting him to those of flesh and blood as well, but he was naive then. Idealistic.

Her question made him shrug, as well. Xian was of the notion that the Emperor won’t exactly... care about any casualties. He was way too perfect in threatening to take other people’s lives, that it seemed rather inconceivable he’d worry about any civilian getting hurt - so long as the people turned on each other rather than him, Xian didn’t think the cunt would lift a finger to stop the potential slaughter. “I can’t say for certain. Not now, at least.” Maybe they will come to him tomorrow, with another batch of carefully crafted information they want him to write down and twist into something less bloody and more glorious - what they deemed to be glorious, of course. No one asked, or encouraged, his opinion anyway. And it was better for his parents that he remained an obedient marionette.

He was about to offer her a seat, but she’d already sat down, and he shifted slightly on his seat to better glance at the unexpected guest. She certainly seemed to brighten up his office ( though, at this point, anything - or anyone - other than the usual Threats Ensemble was seen as an upgrade to his sterile office ). Chuckling softly, Xian shook his head. “The only Bullshit I know, is life itself - so, I’m going to go with a no. I’ve never played it.”

If there was something the Gutters were very good at teaching, it was the look of unhappiness under strain. And the more Luca watched and listened, the more this writer man seemed to belong there though certainly not alive. The Gutters would have recycled him five times over by this point in time.

“A journalist…” Luca was somewhat unfamiliar with the term given the manner in which news usually spread in the tunnels was oral. The more he listened, Luca figured that, essentially, the man was a professional gossip. A snitch. One who left written evidence of their involvement. It seemed idiotic.

“Your life sounds quite sad,” Luca commented. If he could easily feel empathy for others as he once did, Luca would have felt the stranger’s pain instead of the repulsion he usually arrived at with most humans. “Jiang Xian, I do not usually choose to interact with people who are willingly crushed under the weight of their own perfectionism. But, it seems masochistic in nature so I will give you the benefit of the doubt. My name is Luca.”

A drink from his glass accompanied the reach of Luca’s hand as it turned one of the papers on the table, “you think the Empire is really that wonderful?”

Was his life that sad? Perhaps. He was unhappy with it, that was evident enough, but all things considered... it could’ve been worse. It can always be worse - in fact, he’s pretty sure it will get worse, if he dares to take a step out of the perfectly crafted box they’ve labeled for him and had him sit in; just like Umbra likes to do with his shoe boxes. “It can be worse, I’m sure. I doubt I truly have much to complain about, give what other people might be going through.” Oh, he had a lot to complain about - but, the only person he’d actually complain to was probably Ren. Or Jin, if they ever chose to speak to him again.

Snorting in something akin to amusement, Xian eyed the man with an entertained smile tugging at the corner of his lips. A direct approach - that was refreshing. All those veiled threats and thinly hidden sharp smiles were sure as Hell getting quite stale. “You think it’s the perfectionism that crushes me?” He retorted, dark eyes sparking up with amusement, rather than the perpetual exasperation. This was certainly a welcome turn in the, otherwise bland and dull, evening.

But, just as the thought appeared, Luca spoke again and Xian froze, visibly tensing up as his gaze shifted from the man to the paper, and the words scribbled there. He wondered for a moment what he should do - lying seemed like an obvious ( and, honestly, safe ) choice, but there was something in the other’s posture that let on he wasn’t quite on the... pro Empire side. “As a concept? Perhaps. As what it is right now? Not quite.” He carefully responded. “I suppose you don’t share the... idealistic views of the propaganda?” He meant to say totalitarian. Or tyrannical. But, he still wasn’t that stupid to openly speak his treasonous thoughts.

brown eyes met his in recognition and for a second she wants to crack a joke about bumping into him in the million’s square of all places. with all of the city’s vices, it must take a great deal for the virtuous to be stuck here in an emergency. she also nearly laughs as he offers to go with her, wondering how chivalrous he was willing to be when she tells him where she’s headed. hell, she even half tells him she’s going straight into the crosshairs of a sentinel.

‘ sorry, ’ ·she says again, this time a hint of a poorly-timed challenge in her tone. ·‘ but i doubt you’d be willing to go into the underground just to take me home. but thanks for the offer. ’ ·xo turns around to leave but gets her ankle caught just as a burly form rushes past her with an aggressive notion for her to move.

she crashes down onto her side, hipbone throbbing from the impact and the skin of her forearm scratching on the uneven pavement. ·‘ shit, ’ ·xo spits out, trying to get her legs back under her. what a grand way to make an exit.

“I can at least walk you halfway. It’ll be safer if it’s the two of us on the move.” He didn’t need to know, and he didn’t want to know what she has planned - nor where she’s exactly heading. Xiomara was his source on many questionable stories ( all of them true, mind you ) and he really, really didn’t want to know where she’s getting all her intel from. It wasn’t like he was intending to go capture that thing - person. He didn’t need that kind of recognition from the Emperor, nor he needed to be known; having his own column was public enough, and while he once wanted to be known, right now he really wanted to be invisible.

Ren had always had trouble putting themselves in others’ shoes in the way of understanding how they felt. ·Now, for example, they could only think that they would absolutely check to see why something fell in an otherwise still home. ·The city wasn’t a safe one and when it came down to it, it was better to be cautious than dead. ·But, they supposed others were brought up differently and they were more than happy to correct Xian. ·"Ghosts aren’t real, though. ·Humans are ghosts, humans are monsters. ·They’re what you should be checking rooms for. They’re what’s knocking things over.“ ·They opted for a slightly less harsh route rather than snap at him.

They had trouble with that. ·Usually, they were sharp-tongued able to cut through anyone if they felt like it. ·But, with Xian, they reared away from it. ·Damn near shied away from it. ·"I am nothing if not an excessive person, Xian, get with the program. ·Keep up.” ·The eye roll earned from Ren was one that came with a fleeting half-smile but, it was more than most people got. ·They would also never be the type to knock on a window or announce their arrival in any way. ·Much like how they’d never use a front door properly anymore. ·They just didn’t have the luxury. ·Which, as Xian answered them, it brought them back to their last thought. ·As long as the emperor was alive, they would never have a life. ·Not even a shitty one. ·“I wouldn’t let you be caught with me, Xian, that’s child’s play. ·Your sentence would be a high price to pay if you were to go down with me,” they offered a more candid look into how things were going, “And so, if ever that were to happen, you should run. ·We may not be special but I’ve certainly upset the emperor far worse than you have. ·He likes retribution.”

At least, the emperor might like to seek out a little vengeance for the perceived betrayal of one Aizawa Ren. ·“I like the idea of aliens, though. ·It might be nice to be abducted from here.” ·They remembered older sci-fi films from when they were younger, not the names but, the general plot lines. ·It seemed like it would at least be less stressful than all of this. ·“Take your time, we still have a little bit of time before I can clear us to leave. ·– Are they still having you write that shit? ·By now, they could just change the dates and print the same thing over.”

“You can fight me, but, I doubt you’d be the victor,” they half-shrugged as they turned from the window momentarily to look over at him, “Unless we’re talking about writing, then you’d have me beat there.” ·Their eye refocused and in a moment of true vulnerability, they shifted the eyepatch so that they could see properly out of both eyes as they watched out of the window. ·Typically, Ren kept up the facade of a lost eye but, with Xian, they felt comfortable even if he did wind up seeing the mark under their eye. ·“People are too scared to ask for proper communication from those above, that’s why. ·Surprised that you haven’t started an anonymous rebel paper in response. ·We’ll get there.” ·The last sentence was added a little quieter, as though more of an after thought. ·“No one’s killed me yet, Xian. ·That might be the best news I have for you.”

“Or a cat, Ren.” Xian relented, soft smirk playing on his lips - there was hardly any point in keeping Umbra’s existence a secret from them; after all, they will be visiting his flat whenever they need a place to lay low, starting tonight. “I know ghosts aren’t real, but if I hear something getting knocked over in the kitchen at three in the morning, it’s probably Umbra on her rampage.” Yes, whenever there are things being knocked over in odd hours, it’s always followed by a sound of paws dashing around the living room - or scratching at his bedroom door until he gets up and lets her in. And every night is the same.

He noticed the look on his friend’s face, and his mouth twitched in response, attempting to stifle the chuckle which threatened to escape. “You’re right, I’m sorry I forgot about that.” He lightly teased in return, but as Ren spoke again, all his merriment seeped away, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. He knew what retribution looked like, coming from on high; he knew exactly how the Emperor would react - but, his predictability did not give Xian any advantage. In fact, to him it seemed to be even worse - knowing how one will react always puts a stop on how to proceed; and what to do. “Do you really think he’s going to let me off, even if I’m not associated with you?” It was a rhetoric question - the answer was a red hot, blaring and screaming, no. “My sentence already is a high price to pay.” He muttered, stifling down a bitter sigh. Running? He thought about that - more than once, actually. He thought about it and immediately discarded it. Unless he’d run away with his parents, he didn’t see how they’d be alive if he bolted - and they, on another hand, wanted to keep pretending like nothing’s wrong. Like there isn’t a bullet with their names on it if Xian steps a single toe out of line.

He looked at Ren, having his thoughts interrupted when they spoke again, and he chuckled again. “I doubt they’d be abducting us to take us to the Caribbean, Ren. I’m not sure if, in that case, we’d be trading the frying pan for the open fire.” He commented, but some of the mirth returned at the thought of it. Snorting in amusement, Xian arched his eyebrow in his friend’s direction. “And what, deprive me of stringing new sonnets and limericks every time they need to step up the advertising game? You know they’re far too kind to strip me off such pleasure.” They just loved to watch him suffer to twist their dry words into something actually worth reading - while still conveying their original message.

“No, no, rest assured I can’t and most definitely won’t fight you. Ever.” He wasn’t really that big of a pacifist anymore ( how can he, when people keep threatening the lives of those he holds most dear? ), but that didn’t mean he was all for pointless violence. Plus, he never rose a fist in his life and he was rather hoping he’d never have to. Though, circumstances certainly... changed, since his childhood. “It’s not the communication, Ren. No matter how people might be scared, there would always be the one brave idiot who would attempt to make a difference, and attempt to communicate with the Emperor or his associates. It’s just that they find those poor souls before they can react, and either threaten them, or eliminate them on the spot.” Xian definitely wasn’t one of the brave ones - he just wanted to live his life out in peace; but, blood was blood, and no matter how hard he tried to keep his head down, it couldn’t be purged. “The thought did cross my mind, you know. But, they know all too well how I write, and it’s incredibly time consuming to attempt to change my writing style. And dangerous.” He reasoned, but then a smile bloomed on his lips. “Best news I’ve had in a long while, I have to admit.” His tone might be teasing, but he meant every word of it.

Astrid’s face was scrunched between a look of bewilderment and irritation, as if she couldn’t piece together the so called logic he spouted. “You’ve officially lost your mind,” eyeing the thing that he was talking about with skepticism and semi aversion. She didn’t want to see whatever he could do with it, Astrid V Kuo didn’t have the time for it.

“Well you can shove your tattooed hand somewhere else because I’ve seen enough for today,” she said with a quick clap of her hands, dismissing the creature yet again. And she was content that he got the memo from her tone of voice. Perhaps she trusted him just an inch more but it still didn’t make up for everything that had occurred in the past. She still held some rather bitter grudges against him, especially with the headlines and the columns written in her name that had been infuriating at the time.

“Of course I’m right,” she said with a sigh, looking around again to check if there were any sentinels. She would’ve flown away at this point but it’d be dangerous if she went in the wrong direction and was accidentally scanned or noticed. It would have been better if she strictly proceeded by foot. At his suggestion she threw him another look, “your office? Why would that place be safe?” She never really liked it in the first place and it didn’t sound like the most logical solution. “Like hell I can just zippity zap like that, who knows what kind of cameras are installed in your area. If anything, I think I’ll be heading to the scrap yard. Most people don’t like the trash bin.” But she had become an exception to it.

He’s officially been out of his mind for a good long while now. Sometimes, it seemed like the only thing keeping him sane was Umbra - and before Umbra, drawing. It’s been four years since he’d last drawn something - now, the stick figure felt like a colossal change - and already it made him a little tired, a little... stretched. “Show me one sane person in this town. I’ll wait.”

He wouldn’t really shove his tattooed hand anywhere, since it wasn’t his style, but he still toyed with Stick-y poking out from his breast-pocket, allowing the figurine to climb up, and then slide down, his fingers, in and out of the pocket; as if it were on a children’s slide, playing. Perhaps Xian was a little playful himself, when he drew it. Well, that, and a bit desperate - though he was rather content to see that Stick-y only inherited one of his current moods. “You know, it’s been a while for me. You’re the first person in four years who made me draw something again - sick figure or not. I suppose I have to thank you for that, at least.” He muttered, though the words have been sincere.

“Never say never, right?” While there still remains an envelope of bitter indignation over their heart, they will not deny Xian a second time. They will not be so quick as to declare him dead again in their eyes with even so little still left to be mended ( because it is worth mending, isn’t it? ). They think of Ryo’s altruistic nature and how he would have wanted them to reconcile, or at least try to, and Jin can almost see a happier future as a result of that. But happiness in Ilbern is short-lived and sometimes ill-fated because to have something worth keeping means there is always a price to pay. The city gives and the city claims its dues. A difficult lesson learnt once is always learnt a thousand folds over.

After a long sip, Jin puts down their glass diagonally across Xian’s own gin and listens to him as he starts to make some things clear. They are hard to take in considering the fact that with each word, Jin feels like Xian is slipping away again, turning to the easy way out. They can’t blame him for wanting to because sometimes staying safe is the smart thing to do, but how smart is it to sell your soul to the devil?

They start to shake their head as they feel a rejoinder coming on. “It’s been difficult for all of us. So, I don’t expect an answer now. Or actually, even at all. At least not with words—” for all they’re worth coming from you, they want to add but didn’t knowing it would be an unnecessary hit below the belt. Being civil isn’t lost on them despite the distance half a decade has forced between them and their old friend.

“Look…” Without asking, Jin reaches out for one of Xian’s pens lying on the table and an unused napkin since he obviously isn’t inclined to share the papers he had covered with his hands earlier. They proceed to tracing out a simple monogram with the letters resembling M/R enclosed within a horizontal line at the top with curved sides which meet in a point at the bottom—a shield. Jin levels a steely gaze at the other and almost decides against sliding the folded napkin towards him but they do it anyway. Once you’re ready, someone will find you at Butcher’s Street. “Memorize. Then burn it before you get home.” They let out a deep breath as they let go of the napkin. God, I fucking hope I’m not damning us all.

He was very tempted to hug them - or at least to reach his hand over the table to clasp theirs; any kind of reassuring gesture, any kind of... past affection which still refused to leave him, even after five years of absolute radio silence. He was never really angry at them - he was never really resentful, nor he blamed them for the choices they’ve made ; it was a logical course for action for them - but, his choices were made out of necessity; with living parents, he didn’t have the luxury of choosing for himself, for having himself bear the consequences. When the first threat against his parents was made, it became crystal clear to him that he’d never had a choice in the first place - he’s been living, breathing, on borrowed time; sooner or later the Emperor will decide that having him on a leash is much more tedious and time consuming that having the entire Jiang family wiped out.

Xian frowned, observing his friend as they spoke again and he found himself shaking his head to interrupt them. “But, you’ll get an answer. Not here and not tonight, but next time we meet. Since you’ve at least agreed to the possibility of seeing me again.” What better way to guarantee himself he’d see them again, than to withhold his answer for the night? There was no other way. But, he had his answer ready on his lips and right now, he was forcing himself to keep it from spilling. Maybe, when they meet again, they could go to his place, where he could talk without being overheard or spied upon - while he had not touched a pencil in four years, he had still made sure his flat was... safe; a few eyes doodled here and there, all over the flat - followed by a few ears, to keep himself alert of any whispers. It was the last thing he did with his power,before he washed his hands off it, completely.

He fell silent again, watching Jin reach for his pen ( for a second, he thought they might be reaching for him - and he didn’t dare to let himself recognise the disappointment which followed ), a curious frown settling between his brows. But, he knew better than to ask - so he continued to observe, watching closely as they wrote something on a napkin, their eyes fixing on his as they were finished. His arched eyebrow had been enough of a question and for a moment he wondered if Jin changed their mind - they certainly seemed hesitant - but, sliding the napkin towards him, Xian’s frown deepened at their words; and the soft exhale which followed. The monogram seemed to scream at him, simultaneously being both a question and an answer, damnation and liberation, death and life. His dark gaze returned to his friend after he stared at the napkin for another long moment. Folding it, he slipped the piece of information in the little pocket on the front of his chemise and tapped it once. “I’ll get rid of it when I get home. Doesn’t seem like a smart idea to start a fire here. Plus, my home is... safe. I know that with certainty.” So far... so good.

They had perfected that when they were younger. ·A child on the streets of the Gutters had to do what they could to survive. ·Eventually, that just graduated young Ren burglary as was natural for someone of their caliber. ·“Don’t people usually hear ghosts? ·Their footsteps down stairs and all that.” ·Still, they had earned the nickname ‘Ghoul’ so they supposed the description was still an apt depiction of them. ·Made sense that the emperor was quick to put Ren on blast, too, since it would be easier to flush them out rather than try to find them quietly. ·They were trained to go undetected; to never be found. ·“Next time I’ll be sure to throw some rocks, hold one of those really old boomboxes over my head and scream you a song, would that suffice?” ·They were being facetious, but the point still stood. ·It was better that they not draw attention to either of them even if it meant a temporary moment of panic on Xian’s part.

“If you’re going to listen to the emperor then, yes. Technically, one of us could take the thing down and we’d truly make him proud, wouldn’t we?” ·Not really, Ren had a distinct feeling in their gut that there would be no peace if they made themselves known. ·And Xian was better off keeping his head down. ·They were quiet then and even for a few seconds after which was quite uncharacteristic for someone who otherwise typically worked among shadows and silence. ·But, not around Xian, they spoke their mind loudly and often around him. ·“Don’t be ridiculous. ·If it came down to that, I’d have to be dead to allow for that. ·You’ll be fine.” ·And eventually, they hoped that Xian would find an exit.

Ren hadn’t realized just how much others didn’t think of their own moments. ·They supposed they’d noted it in amusement in the past but, Xian truly didn’t seem to think that others could easily take notice. ·How those with less than kind intents might realize the paths he took to and from the office; the times he arrived and the times he left. ·It was as easy as a few nights scoped out. ·“It’s not that bad, actually. ·I’ve moved around most of the night and trust you me, if the emperor could have my head, he’d arrange a feast.” ·He could only imagine how he’d react to the night monster that was also on the loose. ·At least Ren stood a chance being held captive and tortured for a while before their demise. What was currently on the loose likely didn’t.

“Alright.. Finish up whatever work you have and once we’re sure that they’ve moved on, we can move out. ·It’ll be a narrow window though, so you have to promise you won’t fight me on it when I tell you we have to go.” ·They didn’t usually take up an offer to stay anywhere but, they supposed that it would probably only get worse if there were any leftover talks of seeing the infamous Grim Reaper out and about. ·“Okay. ·Yeah, sure, we can go back to yours and then figure it out from there,” they moved to lean against the window pane to watch the streets, “How’s everything been?” ·They hoped to get Xian talking enough that they could silently watch out the window rather than try to distract.

He never really encountered a ghost - never wanted to, either. The images of demons and ghosts from horror movies burned themselves straight into his mind, and that was already terrifying enough ( though, given his power... perhaps he could make ghosts. he doubted people would throw water at things that moved in the dark. he could make it despicable. utterly maddening. he could make it yell and scream as well. huh. perhaps he could send it to the emperor - induce a heart attack or two ). “Mn, yes. Yes, you’re right. It’s to lure the curious ones to their deaths. I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that, when something in my kitchen falls in three in the morning I do not go check it out.” Probably because it’s Umbra’s doing, rather than a ghost’s. Snorting lightly in amusement at Ren’s following comment, Xian shook his head. “A tad excessive, don’t you think? A boombox. What are you trying to do, propose?” He laughed.

Their words brought a distasteful frown to his face. He doubted the Emperor’s benevolence stretched as far as to actually reward people for capturing that thing. His reward would probably be a knife in the back, while feeding his more praise to distract him. Worked to perfection once before - but, while he may have fallen to his tricks once before, it won’t work the second time ( at least he hoped. though who knows what kind of tricks - other than threats to his parents’ lives - the asshole has up his sleeve ). “I don’t think either one of us wants to make him proud. If this is bad, then just think how much worse it would get if we teamed up and captured that thing - what follows after that is something I’m not keen on finding out.” He commented, more than certain that the Emperor would be anything but proud. Murderous was more like it - either that, or he might actually keep them as a team whenever there’s a monster to be caught. He didn’t know which option was worse. But, Ren spoke again and there was something akin to a soft grin blooming on Xian’s face. “That’s... nice to know.” And it was - he doubted he’d ever live to see someone being protective of him. Normally, people had a tendency to threaten him. “Same goes to you, you know. I can’t really pack a punch, but I can do other things.” He never really tested his paper-men against people. Though, they could probably work as a scare tactic - or a distraction. Or both, if his drawing skills are still up to the task.

“If the emperor could have half of this town’s heads on a platter, he’d throw a feast. We aren’t that special to him, Ren. Tonight is one monster, tomorrow will probably be something else. Maybe aliens appear, or a T-Rex runs loose.” He teased, but it probably wasn’t too far from the truth - well, maybe not the aliens or a T-Rex, but he didn’t doubt that in a few days time, there will be another monster to catch, another threat and another order. So long as no sentinels come his way, he should be safe - and so should Ren, especially with their hiding techniques. Perhaps he should take notes - for the future. Scrunching his nose, Xian frowned at his papers.·“I’ve been over this crap for hours now. It’s not going to get any better, so I might as well finish it now.” Another short pause, before he glanced at his friend.·“Did I ever fight you on anything you instructed? I think the only thing I might fight you on is murder.” Though if the emperor continues threatening me at every step... - the ebbed as suddenly as it had appeared.·

“It’s been shit, but I don’t think that’s any news.” Xian replied, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Piled up with work, I guess. Write this, edit that, chase this story, drop that one... the endless cycle of doing what I’m told, by people who think they know better how to do my job than me.” Not to mention that the people in question came with daggers and any protest from him meant another threat against his parents. So, he long since stopped protesting. “And how have you been?” He asked, smile softening.

What do years of obedience do to a lonely child? Each heavy footstep made no echo as they met the concrete. The Emperor’s cold eyes as he disapproved of their progress. The cruel lash of the tongue, each threat against their sister opening a thousand wounds anew. The burden fell heavy on the backs of those who had nowhere else to go but forward. If Kenna were to slip out from beneath the Emperor’s thumb, they imagined not where they would run to but where the stone would fall. It would fall to Tanna to pay for their freedom. It would fall to Kenna to win Tanna’s freedom back.

What do years of obedience do to a lonely child? Kenna walked into the club with the confidence of a pet well-kept, and a prisoner well-fed. It turned them into a machine, by all appearances. They sensed it in the eyes of those who recognized them. It turned them into a pawn, but at least a feared one. Perhaps even a revered one, for those who believed Kenna to be a savior. Deliverer of all Night Monsters.

They didn’t see Kenna as a traitor, and perhaps that too, was merely a trick of the light. If Kenna does not see themself as a Night Monster (for they barely see themself as an individual without Tanna to anchor them), then neither do the people of Ilbern.

And what of Xian? There was a cloud forever lingering at the corner of his eyes. A thought, too dangerous to allow seen, and yet — one familiar to Kenna. One they thought they could guess, if a blade were pressed to Tanna’s throat. Without a word, Xian beckoned for Kenna. It was the manner in which he called for them that moved Kenna to oblige, gliding forward like a thread is attached to her ankle and it tugs them forward.

It was not an order — it was, rather, a question. An invitation.

Pawns and pets knew that to be offered anything is a gift of itself.

Rather than join them in the booth, Kenna stood before it as if to leave at any moment. “Xian,” they said, not unkindly. Still, it would take a nuanced ear to grasp how gently their apathy was. “Have you seen anything suspicious?” They grasp for the obvious, guaranteeing an alibi before the Emperor if he asks about their little stop. “The sirens…” They may have scared the Night Monster from talking at all, if anyone knew about their ability. “They’re a distraction to your work. You should go home.”

That’s exactly what he was after - a distraction from his work. Why else would he be going through his notes in a pub, of all places? Sometimes, the noise would help hone his thoughts into something more coherent than a screaming mess they’ve been whenever he was alone in the office - but, sometimes they distracted him too much to work, and he’d just finish up home, with Umbra curled in his lap. While Kenna didn’t sit with him ( he didn’t really expect them to join - join anyway ), he was pleased they’ve at least come to greet him. “Hey.” He greeted them with a friendly smile on his lips.

The question made him pause for a second, and he frowned, mulling over if there’s been anything he’s seen or heard on his way from the office. “Can’t say I have been paying close attention to things around me. I got here before the sirens started and I doubt the creature would be stupid enough to waltz in. I haven’t really seen any suspicious behaviour, either. If we ignore the usual drunken shenanigans people get into. Other than a few broken bottles and glasses, this place has been relatively quiet.” Xian replied, his gaze rounding the pub, and the people in it, as he spoke, before his attention returned to Kenna.

“I’m used to the commotion. Tuning out people around me has been a second nature for a while now.” He briefly said, but then added ; “It’s not like I can leave now. You’ve heard the order - stay in, wherever you are. I don’t like the idea of traipsing around the town while the... creature is on the loose. I’m not keen on doing what they order us to do in case we run into it.” Xian reasoned, fingers curling around the glass. “What about you? Are you out on his order?” He figured it might’ve been the case. “Do you have to go back out immediately, or can you join me for a quick drink? I could walk you wherever you need to be - two are better than one, especially when it comes to avoiding getting killed.”

It had been long, far too long. That life seemed so far away like a thousand years of reincarnations. It was as if the night she ran away, the night she was supposed to die, she actually did. Everything that had happened before had been forgotten, pushed from remembrance in order to adapt and survive. It was a rebirth but now those memories fluttered to the surface for a breath. His presence shouting that not all times throughout her upbringing were bad. Though absolutely baseless, it was as if her subconscious believed the emperor had eliminated every bloodline that threatened his throne, not just hers. That he stood there in his court bloodthirsty and all-consuming. So the fact that Xian stood in front of her, a grown man and not a child trapped in the timewarp of a memory continued to shock her.

“I can’t believe—” A soft whisper under her breath as the sound of his nickname for her entered her mind. It ignited a sense of caring she hadn’t felt in over a decade, but she didn’t let the teasing that came before it go gently. “We’ve only just reunited and you’re already giving me sass?” ·She lightly patted his arm before taking it. “We’ll go to the church, we should be safe there. At least for now.”

She paid no mind to whether or not he had the notion of the church she was speaking but instead, her mind wandered to the possible irony. If he lived nearby and this was his path home, how often had they crossed paths in crowded streets prior to this night? How often had they been one corner away from one another?

Sukja hurriedly led him the few blocks, thankful most Sentinels seemed to know the general location of the prey they were seeking, quickly zooming past them. Shuffling through the threshold she instructed the patrons nearby to close the doors. “We’ve done what we can, it’s time to protect those already inside. Give tea to settle their nerves.” She looked to Xian. “You’ll be staying until the sirens end?” It was a question but with a stubborn tone. She didn’t want him reentering the streets, not with the danger and especially not with so few words exchanged between them. This was a rare reunion she wouldn’t want to cut short.

He couldn’t really believe it, either. But, they were both here, their paths converging at last ( it was pure irony how only recent chaos could bring them together ), even if the circumstances of it had been a little... well, far from convenient - or desirable. He would’ve loved nothing more than to grab a drink with her, with another sibling from his past ( how strange it was - all his recent connections have been something bordering on friendships, or reluctant acquaintances, while all the old connections resurfacing have been more of the familial kind; despite none of them actually sharing blood ) and catch up on all the years they’ve spent apart. He wondered how she’s been doing and if the tidbits of information he would come across while he was investigating things were true or utter fabrications - or the mix of both.

Her words brought a soft chuckle to his lips and he flashed her one of his wide, but in the recent years extremely rare smirks. “Would you rather I cried? I doubt anyone would really notice the difference of my joyful wailing from the sirens, but I wasn’t willing to take that risk. But, A’Ja, if you’d prefer that...” He trailed off, and he was just about to comment something about sass and pointing out the fact that’s he now mature enough to not get scolded by her, her words caught his attention - and held it, as tightly as her arm that was now laced through his. “The Church? I wondered where it was.” He hummed, letting her lead to whichever direction she deemed the quickest - or safest ( but, was there any safe path or place in the town? he’d guess not. ). They meandered through the streets, avoiding people and Sentinels, but much to his surprise, the most of them had been going in the opposite direction.

Xian followed her, gaze curious as he stepped into the church - watching and assessing his surroundings. Though, it was hardly necessary - this was Sukja; she’d never harm him, just like he’d never do something to bring harm to her. That, of course, reminded him of other sorts of spies, and his frown turned from curious, to concerned. But, the expression softened as he watched his big sister boss around a bunch of people who looked at her like she’s created the universe herself - and something bordering on both amusement and appreciation tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re quite the badass, A’Ja. I see you’ve grown too fond of bossing me around when we were kids, so now you’re compensating, huh. I’m willing to bet they’re better at following orders than I ever was.” Xian lightly teased, stepping further into the room, but her request - or better said order, softened his expression.

Had it been any other occasion, he would’ve arched his eyebrow in his best ‘see my point?’ expression, but he didn’t want to make light of the situation by endlessly teasing her. Instead, ignoring the slight twinge of guilt that surfaced when he thought of his cat, all alone in his flat, his smile returned, and he nodded. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”

This wasn’t a situation that Astrid enjoyed, nevertheless she didn’t enjoy it when she wasn’t the one gloating. To make it even more infuriating was the fact that he hadn’t technically done anything just yet to incite her usual physical ire. One hand rested on her waist as the other was balled up like a fest, resting against her forehead as she attempted to make sense of everything. Sure it gave her more assurance than before but did she like it? Not particularly.

She had never considered Xian anything more than a necessity to her career, and even now she was too stubborn to change her mind. When her eyes shot toward him, she caught the ghost of a smile dancing across his visage and her nose scrunched upward in irritation. She didn’t like giving anyone any sense of satisfaction or triumph over her and definitely not him. “Don’t talk to it like it’s a person, that’s fucking weird,” she said aloud, looking at him as if he were out of his mind.

“That’s as far as you got?” She sounded incredulous. “Your timing is honestly impeccable Xian,” her sarcasm thick as she gave him a thumbs up matched with a mocking grin. Regardless of all his goodwill or not, she hated any sense of pity (or that’s how she saw it). “This doesn’t make us friends you know, I just won’t despise you as much,” she muttered. “There’s still chaos outside and you shouldn’t do … that paper shit in public,” she waved her hand, her expressions still jumbled with confusion. “Anyways, if you’re planning to stick around, be my guest. I’m going to look for somewhere to hide.” She was ready to turn on her heels.

He frowned, looking at her like she was speaking atlantian. “What do you mean it’s not a person? It’s a stick figure. I didn’t exactly have the time to make it look like Leonardo da Vinci. But, it still has feelings.” He placed the hand over the Stick-y, though there was a hint of amusement sparking up his dark gaze ( oh, he was loving this. of course that Stick-y didn’t have feelings, strictly speaking. it was made of paper and ink - and it was something people might describe as a dummy; it didn’t have its own thoughts or emotions, lacking the spiritual essence that made people people - but, if Xian wanted it to cry or howl to prove a point, it could perform it to perfection. granted, for that he’d have to doodle a throat and a mouth, but... at this point it was just little details he failed to mention - just as he failed to mention its greatest weakness. ).

“That is hardly the full extent of it.” He deigned to look offended, but he was happy to see that she wasn’t going to kick him in the shin for ordering Stick-y to climb up her arm. “Look, I tried just telling you - and showing you the tattoo, but you insisted to see what I can do.” He reasoned, but he understood why she wanted - or better said needed - the proof. Xian couldn’t help, but to chuckle at her words. “Don’t worry, I know you well enough to know you’ll never warm up to me enough to call me a friend, and that’s alright.” He didn’t really mind them being acquaintances - for obvious reasons he shied away from having too many friends, and she wasn’t exactly the safest person to befriend.

“Must we do this now, Jin? Here?” Already they feel their small moment for sentimentality diminishing, replaced by the acute reality of present circumstances. “Why? It’s not like we ever meet.” Their syllables are laced with a cynical kind of humour punctuated by a dull chuckle rarely ever expressed in his company.

When Jin used to tease or joke around with Xian, it would be accompanied by a brand of cheer and taunting that only people as close as siblings could dispense. He along with Jin’s youngest brother, Ryo, would promptly always be on the receiving end of their goading which would normally result in Jin having to teach Ryo the meaning of watching his six in rough, boisterous plays. While Xian had looked on, they would tumble in faux fist fights and Jin, being the eldest and still the strongest of them all, would come out victorious. They had known that one day, their brothers and likely even Xian, would come into their own and be able to get the better of them. And Jin would have been proud to have them at their side when they themself stepped into their own power at Madhouse. But that day would never come.

Jin’s joyless chuckle ebbs at the memory. Regretfully, play fighting had turned into real fighting in the blink of an eye.

“Now’s a better time than any, I would say,” but noticing Xian’s wariness, they understood not to push any further, half guessing at the reason for his circumspection. Besides, the previous shots of alcohol are finally starting to get to Jin, putting them in a slightly more accommodating mood. “—but I don’t want to exhaust all our topics of conversation in one sitting.” The implication, they think, will not be lost on Xian. They have nothing much left in common anymore, save for their shared youth. Almost languidly, they take the other glass of gin and clink it to their old friend’s, feeling the chill of it seeping onto their fingertips. “Cheers?”

It’s not like we ever meet. They were right - it’s been five years since they’ve last met; and they were both equally to blame for the distance. He wanted to respond to the light jab, to the cynicism lacing those words, but he didn’t really know what to say, without appearing like he’s just running around in circles - it would do nothing to get them even by a smidgen close to, perhaps, mending their bond; if it still could be mended.

He watched them chuckle, the sound ebbing away to something which sounded a lot like bitterness; he understood that. Perhaps they, too, had remembered fragments of their shared past, their connection, which still haunted him whenever he’d say a phrase or do a mindless little chore that would remind him of them - he’d remembered all of their soft, goodhearted jabs, teasing words and loud laughs; but that had been decades ago, when they’ve both been pure and innocent to the world around them. Ten years ago things started to shift for the worse, but they’ve still been close and had that unbreakable sibling bond... but, five years later proved that even the bonds of steel could break, if they’ve been frozen by rage and resentment. He could only hope ( at this point going beyond hope ) that it wasn’t too shattered to be completely immune to any attempt at mending it.

Their words caught Xian’s attention, shaking him from the memories which threatened to pull him way too deep in his bitterness and regret. He frowned, something akin to confusion taking over his expression ( he dared not to hope. dared not to giddy up when they could’ve uttered those words without thinking, without really considering what those words meant. ). But, rather than staying silent, he tapped into the, almost barren, reservoir of his bravery and asked; “Does that mean you won’t oppose to seeing me again, Jin? Have another drink with me, one of these days?” A short pause, before he cast another careful gaze behind both their backs, to assure himself that no one is watching them - or listening in. But, Jin clinked their glass against his and he found himself returning the gesture on an instinct he only possessed around them, uttering a soft ‘cheers’ in return.

It had been months after their final argument when Jin resolved to making a trip to their friend’s house, remorse gnawing at their heels.

Before that, it had been ugly—Jin had yelled through angry, heavy drops of tears and Xian… They’d seen the same anguish reflected in his eyes but it hadn’t been enough to stop him from doing what he had to. It’s complicated, they remember him saying but it was something they did not want to hear. So, in retaliation and desperation Jin had replied in earnest what they now have come to regret and know will forever leave a stain on their friendship. If you join them, you’re dead to me.

And indeed he had been dead to Jin for half a decade, only to face Xian’s ghost in the form of printed words in fine, black strokes. The reality of seeing Xian’s name printed under the articles in any way or form commending propaganda against the poor and oppressed had always left a numbing sort of aftertaste in their mouth. No matter… They had long since stopped reading his column.

As they lift their gaze back up to Xian’s frowning face, they recall with a shake of their head. “No, I didn’t talk to them.” They had figured if he wanted them to know, he’d have left some sort of message. But it had been a fool’s hope in retrospect. Their paths diverged so strikingly that no small gestures would have been enough to stop them in their respective missions. Jin had been 28 then, already primed to be a commander of the Madhouse Renegades. They couldn’t let down the cause nor the people who depended on them. As a result, they had decided to let sleeping dogs lie.

“It’s complicated, Xian. It will always be complicated.” Jin says it almost through gritted teeth. Angry at his friend, angry at the state of the empire—just…angry. But hearing Xian’s tell-tale sigh, something in Jin crumbles. You were right. Jin never wanted to be right when right meant the worse possible outcome. It was too late for anything else to be done. If they could, they’d turn back time and try harder. Do better. But they can’t.

Instead, all they can offer is this. “I’m sorry…” Two roads diverged in a wood, and they took one each. But Jin would try, one last time. Taking a breath, they start when they know they shouldn’t even begin. They would be opening up old wounds still unhealed. “You of all people know that things are happening. Please—” their voice never wavers to begging but the plea is so very present in their eyes, even in the half lit pub. “…think about reconsidering. Don’t—no, decide later.”

It was difficult - extremely difficult - poking at old wounds, poking resentments and dragging out the memories to the surface; memories that still haunted him. In the past four years, he would often remember it, wishing he could’ve chosen a different path - but, where Jin and their family had been proud of their roots and carnage that followed it, he... he didn’t like any sort of violence and he found it uncivilised and unnecessary. People could get more things done by talking and listening to each other - but he had long since stopped being so idealistic, so naive. People rarely talked or listened - they ordered and they threatened, and in such a world, having a choice was a luxury - and an illusion. He had found that self-preservation was the safest way to go through life, keeping his head down as much as he could given the circumstances.·

His attention was diverted back to his friend, when they spoke again, and his features marred with a soft frown. So, they came looking for him, but they didn’t see his parents. Perhaps that was for the best - he wondered if his parents would put up a front, pretend everything was just fine, which would in turn further spark their fury, or if they would relent and let Jin know just how... bad everything was. He didn’t really know which option he preferred, so he didn’t feel like he should comment on it.

Yes, things were complicated, and yes, they will always be complicated. He got himself, his family, tangled in a mess he couldn’t really see a way out of. It was... terrifying, to be fair. And it was a horrible way to live - always looking behind his shoulder, always double checking everything and everyone in his immediate presence. He was tired of it, tired of never having just one goddamn minute to rest, to relax. He doesn’t believe he will ever again have a chance to take it easy. Their muttered “I’m sorry“ barely did anything to reassure him - coaxing nothing more than a soft frown on his face.

Yet, when Jin spoke again, he felt himself freeze. A dreadfully familiar sense of deja vu washed over him, and for a moment he was propelled five years back into the past; two friends - no, two siblings - spraying each other with enough venom to melt down the world. If he was starting to relax a little ( something that had always come so naturally in Jin’s presence ), now he felt his muscles tensing up again. “Must we do this now, Jin? Here?” His voice was a quiet whisper, his dark gaze careful as it slid from his friend’s face and into the crowd behind them, around them - any one of them could be his spy, any one of them could be listening in. But, he’d already decided - he’d decided almost a year ago that enough was enough, that things aren’t going to get any better, and that everything can only get progressively more worse.

The lack of confidence from the man deflated any chance of Luca having any sort of expectations. But of course, this was a man from above ground, and this one seemed particularly soft like Wailing Mary of the sewers and her cries that hauntingly echoed, there’s too much light. Inside a tunnel.

“Well then, if the boss likes it…” he half mocked, letting the thought trail away lest he add torment to a man who clearly did not need more of it. Luca never quite related to those who bent the knew to others. He understood it, the concept of survival as its backbone, but did not relate to it. He worked transactions with others, but never had there been a relationship where Luca settled for pleasing another. Except perhaps for one or two people, but they could hardly be considered in anyway his boss.

Without saying a word, Luca pulled the chair and sat down in reply. At length he said, “if you are not satisfied with your own writing, then it cannot be that worthwhile. Pity.” A drink of the hard liquor in the glass left a tingling sensation in his tongue, moving all the way down his throat while he looked around. Luca considered changing his seat yet again, yet he regarded the man across the table. Here was someone who clearly swam in emotional pain on the daily. So weak yet still living. It was a rarity to find such a specimen in the Gutters, such an antithesis of himself.

“Let me buy you a beer,” the wretched thing made him say.

Of course the boss liked it - the boss all but wrote it himself; Xian was only serving to beautify the drafts and the texts, to describe a few pretty pictures of a perfect world that the pro-empire radicals wanted to drill into everyone’s minds. Perhaps it’d be better ( though not less costly ) if the Emperor just caught every single citizen of the empire, fried their brains and fed them propaganda - amnesia never asked questions; it was in humanity’s nature to trust others, to perceive its own kind as benevolent and well-wishing instead of malicious, ill-intended mongrels.· He hoped his distaste was not evident on his face, but with so many people flocking around the pub, would anyone really notice him?

The question made him pause, and Xian frowned, collecting his thoughts before he answered. “I think that’s exactly the problem. Objectively speaking, I wouldn’t be a journalist if I completely sucked at writing. I tend to nitpick my own writing a little too much. I always think I can do better and that’s what leaves me dissatisfied with everything I write.” He offered, though he omitted the real reason why he wasn’t satisfied with his own writing - the man could as well be the Emperor’s personal spy for all he knew; there was no need for him to mention the fact that most of his writing did not truly belong to him.

Xian frowned, carefully eyeing the man, calculating the danger, weighing the risks. After a brief moment, he relented. “Alright.” He paused for a second, before deciding that, if they’re going to hang out for a while, they should at least get somewhat acquainted with each other. “I’m Jiang Xian.”