archived 7/2020

@creepiitus | Send 💋 for a kiss from my character!

      The tension in the air is thick. Riza had been made privy to Solf J. Kimblee’s reemergence in the world. Wherever it is he crawled out from is still a mystery, but she makes no hesitation in taking his presence here as seriously as she would any other circumstance. If he’s here, there’s a major probability that this is no coincidence that their paths cross, and that he’s here with the explicit task of eliminating her charge.

      Given the circumstances, she’s quite certain he doesn’t know she’s involved as a part of Roy Mustang’s inner circle. All the better for her. She could quite seamlessly weave herself out of here - but she’s more focused on weaving herself in. Coincidentally of course. Reel him in towards her - away from his target. 

      For as much as her new position required great lengths of adjustment that proved frustrating, Riza’s suddenly thankful that not many know that she’s replaced Mustang’s former guard. Leaves the outsiders and the nefarious one step behind.

      And she’ll play them like a fiddle all the more.

      So she listens as he converses, swirling her watered down (she’d been previously uninterested in her gin, ice left to melt almost all the way). The sips, eyes watching his face. Evaluating but not too much so. Like a woman at the bar clear with intrigue, but leaving the calculations internal. The amount of times his eyes flickers to the front desk of the hotel is too many, but Riza gives him credit, the way in which he does it would slide by unnoticed by the naive. He’s very good at remaining casual and relaxed. Not as good as her.

      When he offers her up to his suite, she’s caught off guard. Her mind whirrs - let him think this isn’t her first drink - and she seizes an opportunity when she sees one. 

      Instead of using the elevator he elects to use the common stairwells and traipse the hallways of each floor. Conversing, pausing to admire the ornamental, century and a half old architecture. They can agree on one thing - the interior is exquisite.

      It’d be a shame if anyone’s blood were to ruin it. By what she’s been told, however, Riza thinks Kimblee would state otherwise.

      They’re on the fourth floor now, second to last. Riza’s on alert now. Her room is 405 - adjoined to the larger suite of 406. Mustang’s room. Kimblee clearly is aware of this - she feels the air around them shift. 

      And they hear the elevator ding.

      In a move that surprises her, Kimblee’s hand is at her waist and tugging her around the corner out of sight. She hears the faint voices of Mustang and Havoc - good, he’s with him. Her eyes are glued to Kimblee the entire time. Unwavering, both of their eyes lock. The voices near and just as Kimblee begins to shift in an attempt to lean around the corner to get a better look at his target, Riza snatches his tie in her hands and silently pulls him down for a kiss.

      It’s reckless and gross. It’s the quickest thing she could think of without alerting him of her allegiance or causing them to be discovered and leading to a straight bloodbath. 

      Even after she hears the beep of the keycard unlocking Mustang’s suite and the two men slipping inside, door locking behind them, she continues. Kimblee must not have been too set on observing the floor plan as he doesn’t make any move to stop her or push her away. 

      But she does eventually release his tie, only now realizing the strength of her own grip when she feels the indentations her fingernails dug into her palm. Eyes drop as he digs into his pocket, revealing a keycard of his own. She takes it between two fingers - 210. Just two nameless people embarking on whatever the night held.

      “I need to check at the front desk for a call. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

      Riza nods. 

      As he turns, back to her now, Riza reaches behind her back. Fingers slip around her firearm, stealthily hidden and ready to be brandished. Only after it’s nearly pressed against the line of his spine between his shoulder blades does she release the safety.

@creepiitus​ | Detailed action prompt.  

      “If you’ll excuse me, Major, I have business that needs attention.” 

      She begins to maneuver around his skulking figure, eyes already trained on the door that marks her escape. The Fuhrer needs documents from Archives, the list which had been given after his meeting concluded with Kimblee. She had been given absolutely no instruction to entertain whatever thoughts the alchemist had in that moment. Riza would do her job - and get out.

      But the Fuhrer had departed with his guards to observe some training at the shooting range. Seizing the opportunity, Kimblee outpaces her. His hand snatches her wrist and with startling precision spins her around. With just the one hand he presses her back into the closest wall, while the other flashes to hold her other wrist in place as it moves to unholster one of her pistols.

      Suddenly, Riza’s too aware of how many inches he has on her. She exhales quickly, heart rate spiking as he looms. His hands release, palms flashing the tattooed arrays as a warning. What would be a tell of ceasefire is instead potentially forboding.

      He remains too close. 

      “What a surprise to see you working under the Fuhrer, of all people, Lieutenant. And not under the esteemed Colonel Mustang.” His tone is mocking - her muscles tense and but face remains untainted by color or a furrowed brow. But her eyes are fire, boring into Kimblee’s face as fingers twitch, itching to reach for her guns if he makes any movement that threatens her wellbeing. 

      As is his proximity wasn’t doing that already. 

      “Does he see it as a betrayal, you giving up so easily to go work under the Fuhrer-?”

      Riza sees red, and for the first time since the night underneath the Third Laboratory, her rage boils over. She shoves him back with a degree of force she was even surprised she could muster.

      Kimblee catches himself before he collides with her desk that lies a number of feet back, but not before his hat tumbles to the floor. To her annoyance, he only nonchalantly adjusts his tie and reaches for the hat. His face is serious but she’s quick to recognize the amusement that glitters in his eyes as he catches a glimpse of her rising and falling chest, fists clenched and stance slowly moving from offensive to neutral. 

@brazencord | Detailed action prompt.  

      “Shit, Hawkeye.” Havoc is already making long strides towards her as she stumbles out of the smoke. A hand is up to her mouth as she coughs uncontrollably. “How in the hell-?”

      “It didn’t hit me - much. I was on the-” 

      Another fit of coughs. She’s bowed over but still trying to talk despite the degree to which she’s staggering in the clearer air. Havoc rests a hand on her back, digging in his pocket for his small handkerchief. There’s dust and grime on her face and neck. He picks out a few pieces of debris from her hair. “-I was on the other side. Mostly was just propelled back and hit by a few crates.” She breathes slowly, wiping her eyes with the handkerchief. He can hear she’s wheezing from the coughing and the wind having been knocked out of her from the blow. “Where’s the Colonel?” 

      Havoc gives her an exasperated look. “He’s still back behind the perimeter set up by the MPs, but I could hear him go barking mad once the sounds of explosives died down.”

      “Lets show him we’re alright.” Riza makes it only a few steps, Havoc following close behind, before her knees buckle. She falls back against his chest and regardless of his stature and his strength, the way she makes contact is awkward for him to stabilize and he’s falling back onto the ground. Luckily he catches himself with his arm - a bit of stinging that can just be remedied with a little ice and rest. 

@hariolor​ | Detailed action prompt.

      Blood painted her lips crimson red. She thought she had been alone in this endeavor, tasked with hunting and eliminating - her feeding was just the grand prize. But she breaks away from the limp body at the base of the massive tree before her. Darkened eyes flicker over to Lust’s. The homunculus must have thought it best to follow, linger back and observe, until satisfied.

      Hunger fed but nowhere near sated, Riza rises and moves her way over to Lust’s shadowed form. The victim’s blood isn’t wiped away from her lips as she closes the distance. Lust gives her no verbal praise, no words to cradle and entangle her in madness and horror. The job was already done. Bloodshed had been dealt, inhibitions and useless commitments to atone for souls robbed of life that could never be returned their humanity. A monster in heart and a monster in mind.

      At the back of her mind, Riza expects Lust to push her away as she nears. A hierarchical woman - she’s made no secret of Riza’s position despite her accomplishments. Yet she allows her closer, until their bodies are pressed together. Riza waits no time to press her lips against the slope of her exposed shoulder. Teeth graze regenerable skin. They don’t penetrate. 

      Not yet.

      She moved upwards. Lips open and just as she’s content with the placement, Lust’s arms wind around her body, sealing her in position with a tightness that makes her still. Arms slink around her waist and hips, hands weave up into her hair. There’s nothing in the air around them, only the midnight air of a forest that might as well reek with death.

     Only when Lust’s hands dig into her skin, pulling her that fraction of a millimeter in order to lock her in, as if to say ‘only drink from me’, does Riza sink her teeth into her skin and relish in the blood that spills over her tongue.

@creepiitus | the roach is lurking -> poor riza 

      Her stomach drops at the voice in her ear. Finger remains steady on her trigger despite the wave of shock and brief fear that courses through her entire body. Hawkeye meets Kimblee’s face as she crawls back from her perch - and more importantly, away from her surprise visitor. 

      Back away from her strategic view from her tower, she wipes the sweat from her brow that had been building in the unrelenting heat of the day. “I should report you for wreckless behavior, Major. I could have shot you.”

QUEEN​.

      “Never.” Lips twitch momentarily, but Riza’s face remains otherwise untainted by emotion. The necklace is a particularly high value spoil from her army’s more recent expeditions. She herself has less interest in the gold and the gems and the goblets. A hand gestures vaguely to the back of the piles. “There’s plenty of wine, hopefully they’ll satisfy your tastes.” A pause. Lips twitch once more, eyes meeting Solaris’. What a comfort a blade or bow would be, but she knows any offensive by her own hand pale in comparison to the force of nature in her presence. “A shame indeed.”

The riches, the power over royalty; Which one had a higher value to the beast that was the dragon? Solaris finds the Queen to be one unlike many — Because her connections to others, but not just that… Riza was someone of entertainment and the fire breathing monstrosity wanted nothing more but to watch the pride and seldom queen fall from grace, and right into her very hands. ( In due time. ) She moves to the back to grab hold of the bottle, examining it with a purr before raising her gaze back to the other. “Why not join me in sharing this bottle? You do have spare time for me… right — ?”

Riza senses her guards’ trepidation and increasing tension as the length of this encounter stretches on. She’s well aware that they would prefer the dragon to take her bounty, examine it, and then once satisfied, promptly vacate the premises until her next payment was due. But the queen knows the workings of the nefarious well. So long as Solaris was content with her spoils, let her linger so she can examine her adversary. The enemy you know.

      Some nights swallow her whole, leaving nothing behind but a form and a face that stares blankly into whatever space lays bare before her. Brown eyes barely move. They only blink as the world disappears, as Scarlett’s voice fades into an inconsequential hum that does little to nudge her attention back to her. It’s not her intention to ignore or shut her out. Exhaustion has built over the past few weeks with little opportunity for a straight night’s sleep, leaving her conscience vulnerable to flares of the past and and the haze of a mind trying to atone.

      Riza barely notices Scarlett moving into her line of sight, and only finally looks at her when the taller woman’s arms scoop under her knees and cradle against her shoulder blades. Once satisfied she has a good grip, Scarlett hoists her up and it’s a testament to her lack of focus until now that Riza barely finds it in herself to protest. If she were being totally honest, the warmth of Scarlett’s arms calms her mind.

      She doesn’t want to speak. She just wants to lay in her arms for a little while. Even if it doesn’t completely rid her of shadows and doubts, maybe it will calm them, just long enough, for her to close her eyes and sleep for more than 2 hours at a time.

      Then there’s the warmth of Scarlett’s lips on her own - she’s spaced out once more. But now she’s grounded again, thankful that of any sensation the kiss could possess, it’s a level of understanding and tenderness that doesn’t make her want to shrink away. It’s care and reality, warmth and so much else. Her mind is too preoccupied to find the right words. 

      As Scarlett pulls away, just a fraction, Riza releases the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. 

MISC PROMPTS FOR YOUR FEELS

      “Then focus on that.” 

      Such a statement could be easily misconstrued as dismissive of the Sergeant’s words to unfamiliar ears. Yet Hawkeye’s words are sure and acknowledging. She’s stared death straight in its face more than once, and came out swinging every time so far. Having fallen into loss and nearly succumbed, however, she will not let others make that same mistake.

      She’s happy to hear that Fuery understands the scope of life - as uncertain as their’s might be at times.

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