you think you know sin?

She stood then with her arms crossed, hands tight against her rib cage, and her eyes fell away from him. That dress, that girl, she had been set out for the vultures a long time ago. She’d learned quickly in New York that sentiment wasn’t going to save her, only prolong the pain. Better to bury little Nina Sterling, who’d cried when and held out her hands to her big brother when they came to take her. She hadn’t been given the luxury of possession. When they’d stripped her of her clothes, she’d held them so tightly in her fists that they’d ripped. Thinking of Nik with that dress, made her throat clench. She didn’t want to hold it, or see it, she wanted to burn it. 

His laughter brought goosebumps to her skin, the deepness of it, and she snapped her gaze back up to him. (He had grown tall, just like she imagined.) “The gang that couldn’t do shit to protect me when it really mattered you mean? Funny how they all preach that no wolf is ever left for dead, but I never caught one whiff of them on my trail. Nor you or Ethan.” She could see bits of their father in his face at that moment and it turned her stomach. She saw it in herself too, little whispers around the jawline that made her want to claw out of her own skin. Her voice was in a sharp whisper, cautious of the ears around her. “Steele preaches the same bullshit. Say’s I’m part of a new family now. I’m pretty sure my definition of family is a lot different than his or yours for that matter. I’m not anything now. I’m not the doormat dad wanted, or the Lycan that mom wanted, or even a fucking Jinni.”

She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment. “So you can toss that old dress into the nearest dumpster for all I care. It’s not mine, and the girl it belonged to died a long time ago.”

He let out a breath, one of those noiseless, controlled things, and let his eyes close for a moment. There was something familiar and pedantic about the way he pulled the pieces of himself back together as if someone was pulling the strings, dragging them back into their places. A practised, nurtured undertaking he’d learned a long time ago - weakness exposed, he knew, could be shown only to few people, and Nina had never been one of those. At first, because she’d been too small to bear the burden, because Nik would’ve once bled himself dry to keep her sheltered, now because there was something steely and cold behind her eyes, something about the way she looked at him. It served no purpose to dwell on it - heavens knew he’d wasted nights and nights working through all the possible scenarios, the what-ifs and what-whens. The smile on his face was a careful dance of the muscles, arranged to create this tired curve of his lips as he shook his head and looked at the city beyond, “If you’d caught a whiff of us, we’d have had you back home a long time ago. That doesn’t mean we didn’t look.”, his gaze drifted back to her, levelling her with its flatness, the calm reconciliation of what should’ve been and what was, “But I feel like there’s no point in trying to convince you otherwise, is it? You’ve already set your mind to this fact - that I didn’t care, much less looked for you. That I wasn’t out there surviving and looking for three years before he killed Ethan and I had to come back.” 

He let out a breath that might have been the start of a humourless laugh, and it was as if he changed his mind halfway through, too tired to continue. “You’re right sis. And I’m not what you want me to be either. I’m not that thing you imagined.”, he cast his gaze down now, to focus it on her eyes finally, “You’re angry, and hurt, and left behind. Just like I was once - trust me, I’m more than familiar with that. And at that point, no one could have convinced me our mother wasn’t a monster who’d discarded me because I wasn’t good enough. But things are never that black and white, and the only thing I can hope for right now - is that you’ll figure it out on your own one day.” He shifted back now, away from her, as if suddenly there was nothing else left to say and his words had been spent, “As for the dress - no, it’s not yours. It’s not your memory to keep, it’s mine. That little girl was part of my childhood, as much as she was part of yours - and I could never kill her, even if you did. So I will mourn her under my own terms, you cannot take that from me.”  

A moment of quiet was all she was looking for. What she was doing was considered stalking and it felt strange to do such a thing with someone she used to be so close to. The need to see him without being seen was too strong to resist and tonight was the perfect opportunity for that. When she dashed into the first seemingly empty room she found, Lila did not expect to find someone familiar there. Trauma was always something she remembered, even when it wasn’t hers. The man in the room had watched the woman he loved die and she had been there, doing her best to help those trying to save her. But it was not possible, no miracle happened that night. “They must have known people would wander the place,” she simply replied, her eyes trailing over the magnificent collection around them. “It looks like it’s all for the show, what a shame.” Not a smoker, Lila did not acknowledge his offer. “It’s quite a night, isn’t it?”

“Nurse Levine.”, there was something nonplussed about his words, it was neither a question nor a statement - just memories condensed into a name. He shifted slightly then, to face her - as if the aloofness with which he welcomed the unknown visitor would just not do in this case. He owed gratitude to the woman, a dose of respect came hand in hand with that. Even if there were myriad of people swarming that hospital room in the week he’d spent by her bed, doctors and nurses and detectives - he remembered Ms Lavine. He supposed kindness had a way of sticking with people, in those desolate moments in life. He hummed a soft noise of acknowledgement, “Perhaps that was the point.” His attention slipped back to the books for a moment, if only to collect his thoughts once again - an encounter like this evoked memories, perhaps that’s why he never reached out to thank her for all she’d done. It gnawed at some part of him all along, it’s only that now he was made acutely aware of it. “Yes, a waste. Sometimes I wonder - why bother? False intellectualism rests on shaky ground no matter how many books you shove into people’s faces.”, he said thoughtfully, then, “Quite.” At once, he meant the absurdity of this event and this place, as well as this chance encounter, “How have you been doing? Still at the hospital? I-- it feels like I should apologise for not thanking you properly, for everything you did.” 

She hadn’t expected to see the Lycan alpha at the party but, with the appearance of certain guests in the room, Carmen couldn’t say she was surprised. A short laugh escaped her at his comment. The clothing article mentioned was one that Carmen was almost never seen without (not counting the warmer months), something she habitually picked up a couple of years ago. Hell, she had been wearing the damn thing the first time they met and every other times since then so, his observation made sense. 

“It’s safely tucked away in my closet along with a hundred other things I’d rather be wearing right about now. Or not wearing at all, at this point I’m not too picky.” Carmen could recall the times when she used to revel in extravagant outings and coordinating apparel but with the current circumstances at hand, she couldn’t bring herself to really enjoy herself this time around, feelings of her dress being too tight, heels being too high and the need to be on guard until the night was over and she was on her way home. And while the presence of the leader of one of the factions in question did nothing to rid the woman of her uncertainty, she pushed those sentiments down to avoid giving herself away. 

“The horror indeed, had you been here a few minutes earlier you would’ve witnessed the handful of individuals I had to politely turn down for a spin on the main floor but,” A brow raised in jest. “I could make an exception for you if you’re game, Mr. Sterling.”

“Dare I say, you sound annoyed.”, he delivered the words with that slight amusement of someone familiar with the feeling, even if these days he’d grown uncomfortably comfortable with these sorts of things. Sharp lines of a suit and heavy watches that looked like they could do quite some damage if one decided to use them as a weapon. Though one could also argue that they offered a bit more freedom of movement than her dress did. “I don’t know, it all seems rather impractical.”, he sipped his drink, then shrugged slightly as if to concede to his own thoughts, “Although I’d never underestimate a woman in heels. Anyone capable of running in that scares me.” Though if Nik were being honest, he would’ve been glad to be scared by Jo and her heels right now - things felt a bit listless without her, snarky remarks left unsaid, and the texts just didn’t do it justice. It was only that quiet, festering feeling of the impending doom of this event that made him glad she wasn’t present, and that was about the only positive feeling he had about this.

“Ah, I see you were breaking hearts left and right. Shame I wasn’t here to see.”, his finger tapped against the glass he was holding, a rhythmical, thoughtful movement as he looked out over the crowd, faint smirk on his lips, “Though between us - were you truly that polite about it?” Not that Carmen wasn’t polite - just that Nik had always had a sense there was a slight edge to the woman. In all honesty, the question caught him off-guard - he’d expected a devious thing from Carmen, just not that exactly. But there was a fine line that he had to tread along here - risk offending her and say no, or risk taking her seriously and say yes. And Carmen’s features were left diligently unhelpful in providing him with a clue. “See, now I can’t tell if you’re joking - which is not a good place to be.”, he said, head cocked slightly to the side, “But I suppose considering the array of men scorned you’ve just left out there, I’ll just be arrogant in presuming you were serious and say yes. What can I say? I’m not immune to flattery.” 

He needed to get away, even if it was for a moment. While he had arrived to the event with Harley, running into Lila was not expected. Now with both women on his tail, Jacob slipped into the study as an attempt to take a breather - not realizing his Alpha was already occupying the room. Great. While Jacob was avoiding the two women for the moment, the last person Jacob wanted to be stuck with was his Alpha. He knew eventually Jacob’s absence would be brought up and he’d have to figure out the best lie to tell on the spot if Nik were to ask at that moment.

Walking over to the end table, Jacob happily grabbed a cigarette, lighting it. “I’m not a book person to say so,” the man answered his Alpha’s question. “As for coming in to argue about your presence in here, I came to take a breather from the crowd anyway; no arguments here.”

He’d heard Jacob hesitate in the doorway, raised his eyes expectantly towards the man before they went back to the book. It didn’t immediately choose a page to open to; it was not worn with abuse, its pages crisp and untouched, the spine still stiff. A virgin book, he realised silently - those were rare on his own shelves back home. He less opened it and more pried it open, to scours the lines of orderly text as Jacob lit a cigarette next to him. “Shame, I was hoping for a chance to bash Bukowski.”, he finally raised his gaze from the book, still holding it in his hands as he looked at Jacob, “I was hoping I’d stumble across you. Little birdie told me you were out.” What it didn’t tell him, was why Jacob was not yet seen at the HQ, but he guessed from the set of Jacob’s shoulders the man was expecting him to ask that question right away. “No such luck apparently, we both had the same grand idea.” He cocked his head slightly, closed the book with a soft thud of its pages, “So, I was wondering for the past few weeks - how are you? Freedom must taste good.”

It was hard to keep Nik’s gaze once he did turn to face her, hard to look up into those eyes. She’d spent more time in the company of strangers and enemies than with the man in front of her, but to look at him was to feel the years roll up inside of her. Four and sitting on the trailer steps as she watched Ethan and him wrestle. Five and slipping out of her bed and into his when their parents argued. She knew then that it didn’t matter how long they’d been apart, her connection to her family would always be an open wound.

“Does that ugly old thing even still exist?” she asked, tone still casual. There were oceans between her sentences, words that could not yet by spoken. When she’d been sold, she’d been packaged with only the clothes on her back. She remembered the dress only when he spoke of it. Obviously homemade and yet little her didn’t care. She’d have worn it to bed if Ethan didn’t say no. She’d thought that little girl had died over a decade ago, but she was breathing again as she looked up at Nik. He doesn’t care about you, she reminded herself. In the end you were nothing to him. Her face tightened like a bowstring as he spoke.

“Daddy,” the word was a curse from her, “didn’t want me to be anything more then a doormat. Do you think I was sold on clearance? I bet he would have set a higher price for his fucking gun then he did for me. But no, I didn’t come to kill you. The dick probably still thinks I’m in the bathroom.” A bitter laugh came out of her. “And I don’t think, Alpha, that insanity is something you should be judging. Don’t you send your little omegas out to go kill a person of your choosing?”

He drew the smoke in to his lungs as if it were oxygen - as if it could supply him with some form of inebriation, to calm the erratic, uneven beat of his heart, or the way by his side his hand trembled slightly. Nik had his tells, he just learned to hide them rather well - no use in showing emotions in this game. “Of course it does.”, his voice was tinged with indignation, but it spoke of what was left unsaid - of course he’d kept it, he clung onto it the way he’d clung on Ethan’s old set of playing cards. A misplaced nostalgia, tucked away safely the way a child would, so that it would be left untouched by the rest. Even Mia got an earful for touching the box when she was in the process of moving in and they were making space for her things. 

“It’s as ugly as ever, and dirty too - even modern science can’t get whatever stains you made out of it.” This was the best he could offer her - this veiled, transient piece of himself - because despite her casual tone, he’d recognised his own thoughts in her question. It was never just about the dress. A shadow fell over her features then, something tight about the set of her brows above her eyes, and Nik did his best not to show the turmoil inside him, the painful confusion with what he was supposed to do in this situation. He did not want to see her hurt, but he couldn’t even help himself - how was he ever going to help her?

“A Reaper doormat. Yes. Remind me again, what are you now exactly?”, he said, then a laugh followed, something empty and bewildered about it. He didn’t even know where he was going with this anymore. “Probably. Though if it helps, it was more about sending mom spiraling into insanity than to pay for his fucking debts.” This time when he laughed, there was something else to it - some grim amusement, less bark, more an actual laugh, “Oh good you have a sense of humour, I worried you didn’t get the gene. It’s okay, I’m sure he passed by a mirror and some point and got caught up staring at himself, it should entertain him for a time.” The word Alpha she spit out as if it were a curse, or at least that was what it had sounded like to Nik as he flicked the butt of his cigarette away. “You say that word just like they do.”, his eyes landed on her then, something dark about them, “Yes, because it is what’s demanded of me. I don’t do it lightly and I certainly don’t go jerk off to the idea of it after, unlike some. And I don’t think judging the gang that brought you up is something you should be doing. Funny how that works.”

“How very chivalrous of you. Even to someone like me.” Izzy was referring to the smokes left out on the end of the table as she crossed her arms over her chest and slipped with mindless ease into the estate’s, boundless study. She was made very aware of her companion’s presence from the moment he stepped foot into her periphery downstairs. In fact, Killian had made it his mission to taunt the Alpha all night. If only to see what he was made of. Sticks or stones.

Izzy couldn’t say she agreed or disagreed with any of the contention that went on between them. On behalf of her not being present for most of it. She was elsewhere, taking care of personal matters.  However, she got a weird feeling about tonight. And taking into account that she had a gift for these sorts of things, she felt it was safer and better for them all, to survey the enemy herself. Just one on one.

Like Killian, she suspected the party was a trap though. Alas, she didn’t know who set it or why. Granted, she planned to figure it out on her own. She always could tell when a person was being forthcoming or if they were lying straight through their teeth. Even if they were absolute strangers. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.” Instead of hiding her face behind her mask like some sort of coward, Izzy peeled hers off in a sign of good faith. Now her eyes, a deep shade of brown, shimmered under the golden chandelier hanging above their heads, turning them a new sparkle of amber. “Isabelle. And, I believe it’s Mr. Sterling right?”

At the unfamiliar voice, Nik raised his gaze from the book and towards the woman that had just walked in. A spike of irritation, like wildfire, coursed through his veins even if his features remained carefully trained in a look of vague recognition. These people fed off their infamy, off anger and recoil, so a reaction was something they were going to be declined, even if it cost him a few years of his life. “I did not know it was you.”, for a moment his eyes fell back down on the book in his hands, as if unperturbed by the unwanted presence, his voice a pleasant, stately thing, “But we’re not animals, are we? I haven’t changed my mind - please, help yourself.” He gestured towards the pack of cigarettes, a sleek, silvery thing, as he carefully placed the book back into its spot. It took all what remained of his frayed restraint no to shove it back in and turn to sneer at the woman. 

“No we haven’t. A shame really - I was wondering when I’d be offered the honour.”, it was all saccharine words, a bit too pleasant not to be a hidden blade sharpened to a point by the usual affront being a Lycan entailed, and the fact Nik was seeing red after everything that had gone down tonight. He busied himself with his cigarette as she took off her mask, only a faint trace of a sharp smile in the corners of his lips as he watched her over the red, glowing tip of his cigarette. Bold. Fair enough - he might as well play along. “Yes, quite a change from wet dog. I must admit, you’re more original than your beloved.”, his mask slipped off easily enough, even if the figurative one remained as he offered his hand. It was a dare, rather than custom. “Yes, Nicholas. A pleasure, Isabelle.” 

For a moment his attention turned to the ashtray, to tap the ash away before his gaze slipped across the vastness of the room that surrounded them, its shameless luxury. He spoke, even as he turned away from her to make his way around the room, “Let’s not play coy Miss Samson, neither of us is even remotely close to it - either you’re here to taunt and distract me while Killian pulls some shit downstairs. Or, you’re here to snoop around and I just beat you to the punch.”

Killian was taking a mindful stroll through the estate, while trying to figure out the event’s true intentions. He didn’t believe everyone was gathered here today to rectify the horrors committed against Houston. Why would the mayor go through such lengths? He was just as crooked as the gangs themselves. He was benefiting off the town’s crime. How else was he going to support that lavish lifestyle of his? A fast car, beautiful home, the designer suits worth more than most families make in a month. This could all very well be a con. A way for him to get richer. Charity was for suckers. Still, Killian donated fifty grand of his own money. If only to keep up appearances. He was the best and wouldn’t let anyone forget it.

While traipsing through the house, Killian heard a familiar voice that lined his skin with goosebumps. The kind of spine-tingling chill that prickles with excitement. “I thought I smelled wet dog in here.” Killian laughed from the doorway, interrupting Nik and his guest. “Mind if I have a moment alone with my friend?” Killian stepped closer to the person, eyeing them down with nothing but darkness in his eyes and heart. His signature death-stare seemed to work because not a second later, the person scurried off, leaving the two boys to work out their differences.

“You know smoking kills, right? I guess for you it’s inevitable, so what’s the difference, am I right?” he slid his Devil mask upward, letting it sit atop his head. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t upset about before? You know…the whole thing with your sister? I knew for years. You see, my father, he was crazy, therefore very lonely. He wrote everything down in a journal…There’s records of everything. There’s this paragraph about how much he resented my birth, I had it framed. I had no idea my father could be so sentimental.” While smiling, he reached for a book, if only to use it for a prop. He pretended to be reading it while he spoke, “There was this one part about you and your family. So when I found out you had a sister, I looked for her. How weird that I found her before you? …Kinda makes you wonder if you ever cared to begin with? Hm.”

Nik looked up at the sound of Killian’s voice, and though he wished he could say he was surprised - he wasn’t, not really. The bastard had a flair for the dramatic, and some kind of twisted sadistic kink that Nik could, on some level anyway, appreciate. If one took the insanity part out of it anyway. “Well, that’s ironic, considering you’re the one who’s been sniffing me out all night. I’m flattered, but you should get yourself some real friends Killian.” For a moment Nik’s eyes went to the woman that had been standing there, baffled by the exchange and seemingly blissfully unaware of its true connotations, at least until she scurried off like someone had just pointed a gun at her. Smart girl. “Oh, wonderful. I had her right where I wanted her, and you just scared her away so the two of us can - what? Braid each other’s hair?” 

He’d grown weary throughout the course of the night - it felt as if whatever emotions had been left in him to be stirred, were stirred when Killian decided to dangle Nina in front of Nik like some pretty penchant, and later when she’d found him on the patio. What was left now, was irritation and something that was not unlike grim amusement when Killiant went off on some inane tirade. Nik took the chance to pull his mask off, thankful for the cold air that was seeping from one of the cracked windows, and turned to an ornate golden tray that held an array of expensive bottles, to pour himself a drink. “If your point is to flex that I’m going to die eventually, I’m going to have to break it to you - so are you. What a wild concept right? People die.”, an expression of feigned shock, a bit too dramatic to be anything other than a mockery of it, shadowed across Nik’s features as he broke into a dry chuckle, “Ah, I see the familial connection now.” A drink was brought to his lips as he leaned against the hefty desk, too ordered to have ever been properly used. Guess he’d aimed too high when he thought he’d find some clue about this whole charade while snooping around here. “Listen, Killian. As a friend, I must say - get yourself a therapist. Boring me to death with your daddy issues and edgy sob stories is a valiant attempt at a hit, I’ll give you that, but I’m not all that interested.”, he seemed to think of it for a second, running his thumb over his lower lip as if in contemplation, “I mean, no one in their right mind is, but me in particular. At least the therapist will get a hefty pay for it.” Nik was perfectly aware of the chord Killian was trying to strike with his last words, but it was a familiar sort of blame for him, one he’d lived with ever since he returned to Houston years ago. “Oh calm down, you’ve had your fun, now it’s just getting boring and old. Pushing the buttons now will still bring you no more results than it did the last time.”, he exhaled, tipped his head back for a second before bringing his eyes back to Killian, “If Reapers sold her then it makes sense it would be easier for you to find her through records. That’s not an argument. You got anything else?”

@sterlingun​

When Killian had taken his fun, she’s stepped away to using the bathroom, locked the door behind her lost what little was in her stomach. Afterward, mouth burning she sat for a minute and collected herself on the intricate tile, taking long breaths until her heart didn’t beat quite so fast. She’d known who Nik was for weeks now, knew he was the Lycan Alpha, and known that he was all that remained of her family. And yet the visceral reaction of seeing him just feet away was something she only barely managed to conceal. Beneath that mask, his eyes were achingly familiar. In her old daydreams she’d imagined him built tall with pride, but there was something else in him. The sharp set of his jaw, the black set of his suit. He’d been carved out from a bitter world. 

What an ironic fate had been set for them. Him turned alpha and her turned Reaper. In whatever hell their father currently resided, he was laughing. She pulled herself to her feet, washing out her mouth and composing herself. She then popped the window open, unlatched her heels, and slipped out the window. Killian or another Reaper would be tailing her any other way, and she’d had enough of being babysat. 

She found Nik again on the patio, and froze for a minute before approaching him. What could be said after fifteen years? They’d been able to capture only a handful of memories together as children and they were far removed from them now. And in the end, what had their shared blood meant. He’d risen high in Houston and she’d spent her life living on what strength she could conjure. She took another breathe, steadied herself, and then stepped into his viewpoint, hand in loose fists. “It’s weird seeing you in a monkey suit, brother,” her voice was steadier than she felt. “You’re far removed from those dirty old overalls.”

He’d disliked the idea of this event in the first place. It had felt improbable, and mockingly so - the idea of peace was as optimistic, and as absurd as a fairy tale. It reeked of good intentions, and Nik knew better than to trust them - something about them and the road to hell, right? He’d prepared himself for thinly-veiled threats and maybe the blade of a knife pressed discretely to his kidney as acidic smiles were exchanged. Hell, he even prepared himself for a god damn shootout. He did not, though, prepare for his sister to rise from the dead. Outside now, alone in the crisp night air, he could not remember the last time he’d felt that sinking feeling, he did not think he was capable of it anymore. Very little surprised you, or hurt you after a while in this god-forsaken place. 

The loss of his sister - it was like someone had placed a hook in his heart, made him live with it. The pain was always present, memories tugging at it softly sometimes, like a constant, painful reminder of his failure to find her. Tonight it felt like someone had taken the line and yanked it, hard. It was his heart or the line, he wondered what would break first. But that wasn’t really what scared him, very little did these days - it was the realisation that he had not recognised her, not by the movements, not by the set of her shoulders, not even by the eyes that could not be hidden behind the mask. And even when he had - all he could do was acknowledge that it was her. The familiar set of her jaw that reminded him of their mother. Features, always a bit too youthful for her age. Eyes, more tired and darker than he’d remembered them. It was her - but was it really?

The patio stretched before him, dark and quiet and cold - he watched the city lights quivering, familiar, its citizens softly suspended in their obliviousness. He envied them. “Oh you have no idea.”, his voice remained toneless, leather quietly creaking as he squeezed his fingers into a fist. He did not turn around, did not look down towards her as his gaze remained trained on something distant and imagined. “I suppose I killed him and left him in the ashes long before I did the same to our father.” There was tightness in the set of his shoulders, his lips a thin, hard line, and when he finally looked at his sister, he found himself recoiling inside. Was it guilt? Shock? Mistrust? He did not show it. Maybe he should have, maybe it would have made things easier, for the both of them - but Nik had no idea how to be soft anymore. He was all sharp edges and carefully picked words and bad trust issues. “You’re not wearing that dress mother sewed for you either - the one you liked so much? You’ve made some upgrades too, I see. Killian painted such a charming picture with you.”, his voice grew cooler, sharpened to the edge of a blade, “Reaper red suits you well sis, daddy would be proud.” It was such a cruel thing to say, even for him, and something inside him rebelled at the words that left his lips, yearned for something else to be said, but he ignored it as he placed a cigarette to his lips and took out a match to light it, “Did he let you off the chain to come try to kill me here? Some insane initiation bullshit of theirs meant to appease the god and his bitch?” 

He stood beneath a colossal bookcase, a grand piece of mahogany with carefully crafted golden etchings and rows after rows of books, neatly tucked away and seemingly untouched, the spines of finely bound leather free of that wear and tear all beloved books are marked with. Someone had cared enough to dust them off regularly, but that was the extent of care they were provided, a shame, considering the collection. Nik took a sip of his champagne, allowing the silence to hang between him and the person who’d just walked into the study for a stretch of a moment before he spoke, “Seems like such a waste, doesn’t it? It’s an astonishing collection.” A crystal ashtray stood on the expensive-looking end table beside him, and Nik tapped the ash from his cigarette into it, before taking a slow drag, “If you’re here to tell me I’m not supposed to be here - I’m going to have to argue you’re here too.” His fingers, still carefully gloved in fine black leather, reached for one of the books and pulled it out, and he ran them absentmindedly and gently, as if to caress it, along the golden letters, “There are cigarettes here on the end table, help yourself.” 

Location: Masquerade Ball — The Riveria Estate  Status: Open @gowstarters​

The night was rather young but that didn’t stop Carmen from grabbing, what would be her fourth, glass of champagne from the circulating drink tray. Taking a sip, the woman readjusted the mask adorning her eyes as azure hues scanned the room for anything, out of order, so to speak. Sure it was pessimistic to think that something could go opposite to plan but, with two rivaling clans drinking, dancing and conversing in the same space made Carmen uneasy. The theme of the night made it especially unnerving for not being able to make out the faces in the room put Carmen out of her element. Carmen could remember the days when she actually enjoyed such affairs such at this, even thought of throwing one of her own at one point but, that was before she lost her meaning of contentment in an abandoned warehouse. Long story short: Times were different now, much different. With what happened to one of her father’s operations and the deaths of many of their his people, attending an extravagant function that just so happened to be thrown after such an event seemed a little, odd. 

Carmen wasn’t exactly involved in the happenings of her father’s organization but that didn’t stop her inquiring mind. Unfortunately, her many questions would have to wait until the night was over unless her father’s right hand man decided to make an appearance which Carmen would surely work to her advantage. Apprehension aside, if anything were to go left at the party, Carmen knew she could count on the hidden gun holster strapped snug around her thigh, her customized pistol tucked inside, hidden by her ankle length dress. A lady is always prepared. Setting down her drink, a sound of annoyance escaped her lips as she readjusted her mask yet again. “Note to self: Custom is not synonymous to comfort. Beauty is pain, beauty is pain…”

A young Nik had never even entertained the idea of such grandeur - if you’d asked him then, he could not imagine himself standing beneath a heavy chandelier, surrounded by a sea of glittering gowns and sharp, expensive suits, all money and decadence. It would be even more of a stretch for him to imagine that he’d fit right in, ready to slip into that role at the drop of the hat. He would not have dared imagine it, but these days - he liked it, perhaps even thrived on it. Expensive watches, decadent cars, designer suits - no one could tell him apart anymore. With a glass in hand, he made his way through the crowd, allowing himself to blend right in out of some misplaced hope that for a minute no one would drag him away to exchange some pleasantly empty words. He was inches away from his voice growing sharp with annoyance, from the metaphorical mask of pleasantries dropping - he needed a break. No Killian to dangle Nina in front of him, no glances cast through the crows to make sure all his people were doing fine and that there was no threat on the horizon. Yet anyway. 

Carmen seemed like one of those people that wasn’t hard to spot in the crowd, and her mask - though ornate - was hardly some sturdy, impenetrable disguise. Nik slipped his way through the crowd until he was besides the woman, faint amusement in the corners of his lips as he sipped his drink and waited for her to finish. “Where’s your jacket Miss Franco? I almost didn’t recognise you without it.” His eyes skimmed the crowd, a display of feigned disinterest - he could not allow himself to feel anything less than at ease, “Well, at least no one’s making you dance. Imagine the horror of that.”

        “Very cynical of you,” Trixie couldn’t help the words that escaped past her lips, much like she couldn’t contain herself any other time. Letting his words linger for only a moment longer, the brunette finished off her cigarette before tossing it further into the darkness, out of sight. “But, I think you’re wrong.” She commented lightly, hazel hues falling on the man. Beatrix had always been argumentative, ever since she could speak, it was one of the many reasons why she always ended up in the back room at the bar, with another bartended taping swollen, bloodied knuckles. It was hard for her, to not say what she felt or thought, that’s why it generally all came rushing out, never once running through a filter. “With enough persuasion, humans will do anything.” Or a gun to the head, went left unsaid but lingered on the tip of her tongue before being swallowed down. She wasn’t one to dive into such deep conversations, especially not with people who found themselves lingering around Half Moon. As a teenager, it was one of the many reasons why she felt the need to escape, to run as far as she could. She was never naive, not in the life she was raised into, but she was curious,  incapable of understanding. “Of course, one’s basic fundamentals don’t change, but they can take on the thought, the practice of someone else. Humans are always evolving, learning from others.” It was a fascinating conversation, one she wasn’t intoxicated enough for. 

        Thankful for the conversation now at hand, Beatrix scoffed in turn. “Of course he did. But not to that extent,” A harsh grab to her arm, and a cat-call here or there in hopes of getting her attention didn’t warrant him being thrown over the bar and tackled to the ground, but it did deserve for unkind words and a simple threat. Last time consisted of a drunk patron, one who decided to corner another bartender, to lay his hands on her. That night Beatrix had seen red, there was no stopping her. Tonight was nothing like that and the woman had promise herself, she’d never let it get to that– she’d never let a customer get to that. “Tell that to my father,” She commented, the laugh bubbling out of her throat. “He would have told me to get back in there and finish what I started,” Just like he had done as a kid, and his own father before him. Beatrix knew where the anger came from, of course not by genetics, but from the man she was raised by, while her mother taught her to be strong mentally and emotionally. “But this? This is nicer, don’t you think? Taking a breather, enjoying what you can of… probably an already shitty night.” How could she not choose this, she wondered, it was peaceful. Away from the chaos of her everyday life, away from… everything. Unfortunately she needed the money too much to walk away from a shift, even if it was almost over. Student loans were a bitch, one she was ready to take care of. “I’m sure it’ll happen again if we go back in there. Probably with a different one this time. Pretty sure the other guy ran after that.”

In the periphery of his gaze, which was focused on nothing in particular, things attained a strange, quivering hue brought on by the neon signs that aggressively signified the entrance to the Half Moon, painting the night air with strange colours. It hid its true purpose behind its gaudy flair, but there was something strangely familiar to that tackiness that evoked fondness in Nik. He’d drifted off into faint thoughts when Trixie’s words yanked him back, his eyes landed on her, startled amusement spilling across his features, “Oh do you? That’s bold.” Any other time and the words would have had a sharp edge to them, a sort of grim amusement - but this time Nik was just being facetious. Truth be told, it was good to hear someone not skirting around the issue, at least someone who wasn’t a manic Reaper poking the wolf trying to see if pride would get the best of him. “Fair enough Arcane, you’ve got a point there. We’re all oh so very pliable when someone presses the right buttons.” He’d figured that out early on, at first out of necessity rather than interest - but it was an addictive skill, one that opened doors, and Nik liked getting his way with things. Who didn’t? “You seem to have a more... optimistic stance on it. My theory is most people are just greedy. Sure, a more violent approach is efficient and necessary at times - but I prefer a gentler approach. The right kind of pressure at the right time opens a lot of doors. It’s a delicate art.” He leeched off desires and longings and greed - it was morally questionable, but when did he ever do anything that wasn’t? He’d become immune to that long ago, and though he could see Beatrix was good at violence, he doubted how comfortable she was with it. He wondered for a moment if he’d ever had a choice to choose his path, the way she did these days. If he’d ever questioned his own violence. 

He let out a dry laugh, “Mine would’ve said the exact same thing.” By now the cigarette had burned down to the filter, and Nik flicked it away with the fluency of a life-long smoker. The embers glistened for a second, then disappeared into the darkness, “But from my experience, they don’t know everything, so why listen?” He never did either. Sometimes he wondered if things would’ve turned out differently if he had, but that was a thought that, like many others, he preferred not to dwell on. It wasn’t the shared blood that magically made them right about things, Nik learned that early on, and accepted it once he found someone worth listening to in the old Alpha. “I suppose.”, laced with uncertainty, his voice carried into the darkness as he looked out into it. She was not wrong, he’d just grown so comfortable with the less savory responses that letting go rarely occurred to him. Even if his reactions were no longer violent and impulsive, there was cold calculation behind them, and he had a tendency to hold grudges, and to act on it eventually. “Guess you’re just wiser than most of us here Arcane.”, he flipped his wrist around to examine his watch, more out of habit than any real care for the time - not like he was big on sleep anyway, and he had a while till the meeting with the betas. His gaze went back up to Beatrix, and the smile on his lips was a dry, grimly humourous thing, “Oh it will. You’re doomed to educating the idiots of this world, and I’m afraid not much is as efficient of a learning tool as threats when it comes to that.” What was left unsaid was how disappointing it was that it was something women tended to get used to, the realisation that even if you taught one of them the lesson, another one would eventually come along. A gloved hand gestured towards the door, “But I’m also pretty sure you can handle yourself.”

Nicholas Sterling attending the Masquerade ball at the Riveria Estate 

While her back was still to Nik, Rose let her face freeze. She’d joined the Lycans in a turbulent time. The old Alpha was fading, and the new one was rising. He didn’t have the full support of all Beta’s upon him taking the title, but that didn’t mean he held any less of her loyalty. He literally held her fate in his hands. “It’s like inhaling fire. Made me sick to my stomach, lightheaded, and desperately uncool.” She shifted so that she was facing Nik. one leg still dangling off the edge of the roof, and to other curled up under her. He was caught there, backlit by the city, his match flaring and then dying in an instant. “I didn’t think you’d be showing tonight,” she said honestly. “Everything was starting to seem a little dull, a little quiet, you know? I didn’t just want someone to sit up here and talk New Year’s Resolutions with.”

“Yeah it’s all shades of disgusting.”, he commented, watching the red tip of the cigarette as it burned brightly in the darkness, something mesmerizing about the sight. His eyes then went to Rose, and a smirk shadowed across his lips, “But it’s so fucking good.” Truth be told, he couldn’t remember the last time his breakfast was anything other than black coffee and a ritualistic morning cigarette. Ah, the charms of poisoning yourself slowly. “Sometimes I miss it though, that lightheaded feeling the first pack gives you, that I can still remember.” He stretched the fingers of his free hand, the leather softly creaking - it was of no use in terms of warming his hands, but he felt desperately naked without them. “Why’s that?”, he looked down at the girl, perched there precariously on the edge of the building like some rebellious fixture, “I miss this place. Or I miss having more time to waste here, not sure which one it is.” He missed the simplicity that permeated his life before he was the Alpha, but that was not something he liked to admit, even to himself. “That’s because you missed the part when Beatrix scared the shit out of one of our patrons, that was eventful.” He let out a sigh, a careful mimicry of disappointment, though he could not quite get the humour out of his voice, “Shame, I was just about to share how my resolution is to quit smoking these year, drinking too - maybe take up yoga and meditation.”

      Beatrix focused on the click of the door before his voice rang through her ears, forcing her to lift her head, her greenish-hazel hues coming to land on him. The Alpha. The one person her family talked so highly of, as they did the leaders before. She wondered if she was meant to hold her tongue, to respect the authority he held. But she’d run from that life, only returning because she needed to. She was surprised to see him out there, under the dim back-light of the bar, a cigarette of his own. His voice rang through the night, hitting her ears like the subtle wind hit her damp from sweat caused by the overcrowded bar. A scoff escaped her lips as she shook her head, “Yet they keep coming back for more. They all do.” Sometimes they were too persistent, causing Beatrix to react without much of a thought. But she was trying, god she was trying desperately to turn over a new life, but the customers– maybe something more than that, was holding her back from letting go completely. She blamed the blind loyalty she held to her family.

     “Yeah, well, last time was different. Last time the prick deserved it,” Last time had gone too far, and rather than the empty threat made tonight towards the customer, the last time was a promise. Beatrix had promised that if something more were to happen, she wouldn’t hold back. And she hadn’t, following through with the simple words. It ended up with her getting the customer to the ground, only to have her pulled away with bloodied knuckles and curses leaving her lips. Her fathers blind rage had taken over then, all she’d seen was red. She could remember the pride on her fathers face, the concern on her brothers. This time, it was easier, she had held back before it could get too far. She had to promise herself to keep it that way. “Had I done anything more this time, it would have been more than just an empty threat of him ending up in the hospital.– Instead, I’m out here. Enjoying the night air.” She sad with a grin, her arms coming to motion towards the night. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He hummed quietly as he took a drag from his cigarette, letting the acrid smoke fill his lungs and linger there for a moment - he liked the way they tasted in the cool night air. “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, right?”, the smoke seeped from his lips as he let out a grim chuckle, “Though that’s really more applicable to humans, rather than dogs.” It wasn’t that he was mocking the situation, or Beatrix - just that he’d grown so accustomed to his own cynicism over the years that sometimes it felt as easy as breathing. He cast a glance her way though, as if to gauge her reaction. Thing was - with most members, or ex-members or the prospective members, Nik had enough exposure to them one way or the other to be able to figure them out, who they were, what they wanted. Beatrix had the air of a puzzle not yet solved - familiar, though one that left Nik wondering where to even start. Should he even start? Even if she appeared like someone the gang would be interested in, she was decidedly not interested in them. Though perhaps he was relying too heavily on calculation, a hard habit to shake - sometimes vague conversations over a cigarette were better left being just that, vague. 

“Are you saying this time he didn’t?”, he raised an eyebrow, a smirk crossing his lips, “It’s a rhetorical question, knowing our clientele - I’m guessing he did.” Though that was besides the point - if you asked Nik, most in this god forsaken city deserved some kind of punishment. Some a bloodied nose, others like Nik, worse. But that wasn’t how things worked in their world. “Don’t worry, last thing I’m doing is doubting your ability to put him in a hospital. I saw your handiwork after that last time.”, there was no malice in his words, it was more of an amused observation of someone who had been raised detached from the normal world and found virtue in the more violent skills.  He let out a laugh when she crossed her arms, sort of catching himself mid-thought, “Nothing to forgive. This--”, he repeated her motion towards the night, “-- is probably more impressive. Walking out on it. It took me a long fucking time to learn to walk away. I guess for some people that’s the harder part.”, at least for him it was. But he was all shades of messed up and knew it, she still had a shot. “You can take the night off though, if you want. Have a drink or go home. And I’m not saying that to protect the customers, because quite frankly I was amused with how scared he got and I know I shouldn’t be.” 

Status: Open to all

Location: roof of the Half Moon Bar

@gowstarters​

Rose perched herself on the edge of the roof, swinging her legs over and letting them dangle as she looked out over the city. Houston was her home. She’d never been further than a three hour drive away from it’s limits. Some days she hated it so much she’d like to burn it all down. And then during other moments, like now, she found it savagely beautiful. The night wasn’t going well with the alpha nowhere to be seen and the more founded members taking up all the oxygen in the room. She’d come up here for a breath, and a cigarette, and maybe a little peace. 

But as she heard the roof door opening she sighed, knowing the later of those wishes would go unfulfilled. Without turning around she took another drag from her cigarette and said, “If your interesting company and you won’t hassle me about smoking at my age then you can stay.”

“Don’t worry kid, I’d done worse things when I was your age.”, Nik spoke aloofly as he walked out onto the roof, the door behind him closing with an ungodly noise that couldn’t be outmatched even by the busy traffic of the city below. He considered sending someone to fix that thing, make it easier for someone if they were in the business of catching people off-guard, but one had to admit it added to the dramatic effect, what with the wind blowing relentlessly up here, and the night sky above. “Can’t even remember what it was like to try one of these things. I was probably way too young anyway.”, he waved the hand that was holding the cigarette, placing it between his lips and shielding the match with his hand as he brought it up to his face. His features lit up for a moment, before fading back into the darkness as he threw the match away. “Gee, thanks Ortega. Never knew you were so... gracious.”, a smirk slipped across his lips, lost in the absence of light, but still audible in his voice, “And as for the element of interest - well, I’m not about to start feigning humility so you’re just gonna have to enjoy the ride.” 

STATUS: OPEN TO ALL LOCATION: outside of HALF MOON.

     If Beatrix hadn’t almost gotten into the bar-fight back there, she’d never would be out under the lit streetlight at the back of the building, inhaling a long drag of her cigarette. All she wanted to do was lean against the wall, tilt her head back, and enjoy the cool breeze against her damp skin. Instead, her mind kept replaying the scene that recently occurred; a customer, too insistent for their own good, a few exchanged words. Before she knew it, a threat to slam the his face into a rock-glass had spilled from her lips and her fists balled in anger. Her day had already started out bad enough with her younger brother cancelling their lunch plans, and now this? When it gotten to the that point of now return, Beatrix knew it was either time to walk away or a full on fight would break out. She remembered the last time it happened, with her practically leaping over the bar in haste and slamming someone down to the ground. It wasn’t a pretty scene, nor one she found herself proud of. That’s why she was outside now, trying to think of anything other than the idiot customer. 

   She kept her head back leaned against the wall, her hazel hues closed as a sigh left her lips, “Listen,” She started before even bothering to look up, to take in who was now there. “Before you even start, I’d rather not fucking talk about it, alright? Can we leave it to another day?”

He salvaged the situation in there the way he always did - saccharine words and charming smiles and pretty promises, anything to get them to stop bitching about Beatrix because it had started to drive him insane too and he no longer had the luxury of slamming heads into random furniture. One could argue he would have more of that luxury now, but he knew well enough that he’d get an earful from the old Alpha when the news reached him that his protege was losing his shit all over the place like he used to when he was 17. Besides, he had an image to upkeep - whatever the hell that was.

“Who said I was about to start anything?”, he said languidly as the door shut behind him with a soft click, muting the clamour that persisted inside, and would persist for much longer into the night. He was fiddling with a box of matches in his hand as he made his way towards Beatrix, “Though shit Arcane, don’t go threatening to rearrange people’s faces if you don’t want me to at least make some kind of comment about it.” He pulled out a cigarette, letting the coldness of the night air assault his senses - it felt good, to be outside, to be quiet for a minute as he lit his cigarette and threw away the match. It hissed softly in a nearby puddle as he took a drag and let out a chuckle, “I am impressed though - you have a very efficient way of wounding prides of our customers. It’s been a while, I’ve almost forgot. Though the last time was definitely more... impressive.” 

OPEN TO ANYONE @ HALF MOON.

            The good old, cliché-filled bar glistened under the city lights and the atmosphere was brimming with people of all sorts. Much like everyone else, Victoria was only here for a drink or two with a friend – although she could use networking, as always. Meeting new people was never out of fashion for someone in her field of work and you could never have such a thing as too many allies. That’s how she saw them: allies, never friends.

          Or so that’s what she told herself. She knew this was Lycanthrope territory – thus, anyone could be the enemy. All that Victoria hoped for was to blend in with the crowd, but it wouldn’t be too difficult considering the place was fairly difficult to navigate already. Bumping into an unfamiliar face, she promptly apologized, hoping not to have spilled her drink onto someone else’s clothing. 

          “I’m sorry. I’ll get you another drink if you’ll excuse me. I’m looking for a friend – but apparently, they’re not coming tonight,” an apologetic smile curled upon her lips. She offered them a hand. “What should I get you?”

He would know his way around the Half Moon blind, he’d know it in his sleep - the way the air was laden with clamour of its patrons and the smell of cigarettes, the way things seemed timeless here. He felt like he might still be that kid that was led into it the first time years ago by the Alpha, like he might see the old man coming round the corner with a glass of whiskey. Like nothing had changed since then - even if everything had. 

One thing remained though - Nik still had a way of lurking around the place, scoping out the situation without being noticed, though that was starting to get tougher by the day. Even the ones blissfully oblivious of the fact this was a gang joint had learned to recognise his face by now. He doubted, though, that the woman he saw searching for someone would be that blissfully unaware - even better, there would be no need to play dumb. 

“That’s alright. No need, really.”, he’d carefully arranged his features into a look of mild surprise, letting out a chuckle as he stepped back to asses the damage - though it was anything but. He’d made sure to place himself right into her path. “People tell me it’s bad for the business but I think I’ll be able to handle another two drinks on the house.”, he took the woman’s hand then, an amused smile spreading across his lips, “Nicholas. I will say though, I’m not opposed to a glass of Blue Label.”