cкорпіонi

                     # stilctto  —  independent,  private,  highly  selective,  plot-based,  &   fandomless,    original  character.    handled  with  care  by alex. 

(    *    question meme starters :      @stilctto·

                                why is this so important to you ?

the  weight  splinters  bones ,    a  heaviness  when  he  thinks  of  the  road  travelled ,    when  he  looks  down  at  palms  and  finds  them  blood - soaked ,   turning  everything  touched  a  deep  red .   he  sees  himself  in  degrees  of  ruin ,   seeking  some  salvation  sitting  on  an  unreachable  horizon ;   there  are  horrors  only  he  knows  how  to  end .   hopeful  tomorrows  are  buried  under  the  carnage ,   and  he  knows  that  it  is  this  until  rest  comes  ,   until  the  time  to  return  home  to  waiting  trenches.  

        ❛   suppose  i  owe  my  mother  a  better  legacy  than  this  one.    ❜

a   generational   blood   debt   seemed   an   odd   motivation,   but   gem   remembered   nearly   nothing   of   her   mother   so   it   was   hard   to   comprehend   some   burden   of   loyalty   to   the   woman.   everything   about   the   man   in   front   of   her   bleeds   honesty   in   this   moment,   so   she   holds   her   tongue   and   nods      while   reaching   to   grasp   at   some   understanding.   it   wasn't   the   answer   she'd   expected,   something   about   mission   or   duty   sure,   but   the   concept   of   legacy   was   something   with   a   different   weight   to   it.   

regimes  take  a  similar  pattern .    he  has  seen  empires  rise  and  fall  and  rise  again ,  agencies  that  come  and  go  and  always  take  on  similar  shapes  and  always  there  are  weaknesses ,    always  cracks  that  grow  large  and  engulf  them ,   become  mouth  and  teeth  for  swallowing .    he  knows  well  that  it  takes  one  fragment  out  of  place ,   one  mouth  willing  to  speak  for  the  secrets  to  crumble  walls ,   leave  it  vulnerable  for  burning .   those inside are mysteries ,    loyalty  never  tested  until  that  moment ,   and  he  has  seen  many  of  them  fail  to  flourish ,    stuck  seeking  out  patterns  that  always  end  the  same .   perhaps  the  cycle  can  be  stopped  here .   

❛   we  have  bank  records  and  transactions  that  narrow  it  down .   weapons  dealers ,   false  identification  specialists ;    ones  she’s  used  before ,   but  the  ones  that  seem  furthest  from  our  reach .    ❜        the  best information  always  gained  when  something  is  shared .    the  words  are  an  offering ,   paired  up  with  a  file  unceremoniously  pushed  across  the  table  towards  her  ,   a  fraction  of  what  they  know  until  trust  can  be  built .      ❛    if  any  of  those  match  up  with  your  names ,   we  should  start  there .    ❜     

pauses  while  she  reads ,   the  coffee  machine  switched  on  and  whirring  to  life  under  finger - tips .   there’s   been  an  unshakable  sense  of  familiarity  since  this  began ,    memories  like  live - wires  under  the  surface  of  his  skin ;    the red room always lingers in his mind.    it’s  exhaustion  that  keeps  them  humming ,   leaves  him  too  exposed ,   unable  to  push  it  back  to  a  locked  box .    the  search  for  salvation  takes  him  back  to  the  rubble  of  his  past  again ,    doesn’t  allow  space  to  breathe .        ❛    anything  standing  out ?  ❜

for   a   moment   he   appears   lost   in   the   winding   thread   of   his   thoughts,   and   gem   bites   her   tongue   rather   than   bidding   a   response.   waiting.   watching.   it's   not   too   long,   only   a   beat   or   two   before   she   observes   the   gloved   hand   that   slides   the   beige   folder   toward   her   across   the   table.   her   fingers   itch   with   curiosity,   but   she'd   had   the   concept   of   trust   stripped   from   her   a   long   time   ago,   so   she   waits   while   she   listens.   the   warmth   of   his   voice   is   always   unexpected   and   she   enjoys   the   peculiar   way   his   words   sound   to   her   ears.   she   gets   the   gist   of   it   quickly,   cross-referencing   intel   was   a   smart   idea,   but   something   was   telling   her   this   was   only   a   few   cards   out   of   his   deck.   like   a   high-stakes   trust   exercise.   

the   folder   opens   easily   and   she   turns   her   attention   to   the   task,   skimming   line   by   line,   dissecting   every   tiny   detail   just   like   the   old   witch   had   taught   her.   the   smell   of   brewing   coffee   is   oddly   comforting,   though   the   aroma   reminds   her   stomach   of   current   negligence.   she   ignores   the   growl   of   protest   and   blinks   at   him   through   her   lashes,   turning   her   gaze   on   him   while   considering   his   question.   ❝   i   already   told   you   i   know   where   to   look.   ❞   there's   no   hint   of   condescension   when   she   finally   speaks,   just   mild   amusement.   

clean - up takes an age;    there’s more to this job than walking away when the moment is done, carrying on without covering bases. the phone keeps ringing, others pushing him to move forward, to stick to the goals they’d laid out; he’s trying to be more than a weapon. if there is a redemption, a way to prove that he’s deserving of salvation, that there’s something more within him than the rot that they planted, he thinks it is this. he sees it written in the eyes of every child he helps to relocate, making a note of names and places so he can keep an eye from a distance. 

   ❛   you don’t have to.    ❜       the words hold no bite, no strictness; there’s nothing other than the option for her to walk away, the one never given out to him. he owes that, at least, feels relief settle in on his chest when he gives the offer out.        ❛   but if you want to stay and help, we’ll take it. the distraction of all of you lot meant she got too far too quickly. she’s been dark all the time we’ve been here.    ❜

the   ache   in   her   chest   persists,        an   anchor   of   anxiety      keeping   her   fluttering   with   hummingbird   wings   between   fight   or   flight.   uncertainty   draws   gem's   eyebrows   to   a   pinch   and   she   purses   her   lips.   still   awaiting   his   response.   there   was   a   weight   upon   the   man.   it   was   unseen   to   most,   but   still   clear   to   those   who   shared   a   similar   burden.      she   couldn't   stop   asking   herself   what   was   in   this   for   him?   why   do   more   than   needed   in   the   face   of   scrutiny   and   prior   obligation?   everything   was      too   well   hidden      behind   his   eyes   and   she   struggled   not   to   presume   the   worst.

when   he   finally   gives   voice   to   words   it   is   with   a   surprising   and   measured   neutrality,   the   tone   evokes   her   listen   and   consider   before   answering.   a   beat   of   silence   resounds   and   brings   images   of   marta   scuttling   alone   through   the   forest,   a   swirl   of   pleasure   and   anger   dance   at   the   thought.     

an      empty   ache      had   settled   itself   in   the   cavern   beneath   her   ribcage,   the   last   child   had   been   handed   over   to   strangers.   she'd   been      promised   their   deliverance,      but   there   was   no   trust,      just      a   sour   tasting   hope.   now   she   shares   her   space,   a   so-called   safe   house,   with   a   single   man.   though   he'd      proven   himself   in   resourcefulness,   achieving   what   she'd   measured      impossible      within   just   a   few   short   days.   

there   was      an   unspoken   question      lingering   in   the   space   between   them,   a   curiosity   that   had   taken   hold   in   the      flowering   bruise      of   a   hand   that   shouldn't   know   anything   of   impact   or   trauma.   she'd   expected   a   guard,   at   least   four   men,   her   set-up   had   depended   on   it.      but   her   plan   had   been   devised   too   quickly,   and   as   such   had   crumbled   under   the   first   shift   of   expectation,      he   had   arrived   alone.