aquamarine dollhouse

Sayaka’s eyes lingered on his outstretched hand for a beat longer than necessary, her dark gaze flicking slowly from his pale fingers up to the secret held against his lips.

A low, melodic chuckle escaped her, dripping with a purring, intimate amusement. She made no move to take his hand—not yet—instead closing the remaining distance between them with slow, hypnotic grace. The faint, sweet scent of old ink and seasonal blossoms drifted off her sloped, silk-draped shoulders as she stepped into his space.

"Friends?" she echoed softly, the crimson stain of her lips curving into an arch, provocative smile under the moonlight. "How terribly sweet. But powerful creatures rarely wander into the dark at this hour just looking for friends, handsome."

She tilted her head, her dark-lined eyes heavy with a lingering, flirtatious intensity as she took in his styled blonde hair and immaculate suit.

"I don't treat you as a threat because you haven't given me a reason to... yet," she murmured, her voice dropping into a smooth, breathy register that held a playful edge. "Though 'un-killable' is quite the invitation to drop at my feet. Are you trying to see how far you can push me?"

She reached out with slow, deliberate charm—not to shake his hand, but to let her dark-nailed fingertips trail lightly up the sleeve of his jacket, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric before sliding her hand back into her loose kimono folds.

Giving her real name to a creature who claimed he couldn't die was a foolish risk, no matter how magnetic his smile was. Sayaka remained locked safely behind her teeth, a secret kept for higher stakes.

"If you want to play, you can start by giving me a name to go with that gorgeous, arrogant smile of yours," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with sharp, seductive intrigue. "You may call me Saiko."

There was no surprise in his expression when his offer of friendship was refused, a more so understanding smile painting his lips instead. It wasn't the first, nor probably the last time their offer for some sort of companionship would be denied; but it was worth an effort in trying.

"I wonder what sort of 'powerful creatures' you've met in the past if they're all so rude to you. I promise you, I don't enjoy violence if there is no reason for it. I like to treat all children equally." Their maternal side slips up for just a sentence, although he doesn't make any effort to try to fix his statement, letting it linger in the air as his hand remains outstretched.

It's almost as if he's attempting to befriend a stray; keeping his hand open, and his eyes locked onto the woman; his expression not moving from a friendly and welcoming smile. Even as she uses a more teasing manner, it was almost as if flirting with a brick wall. He didn't want to play back.

At least not yet.

"I have no plans to push you. I'm merely curious. How much of those tales were true? And how much is just baseless rumour with added flair from being passed down over the years?" He lets out a small sigh. "Even my own tale has been twisted throughout time. I assume you are no exception."

There is nary a flinch as her nails trail up his white skin, he doesn't even break eye contact - allowing the little cat to do with as she pleases.

Sayaka didn't miss the subtle flash of bright yellow in his eyes—a brief, inhuman flicker that revealed far more than his easy smile attempted to hide. The crisp clack of her koma geta came to a soft halt on the stone path, her posture unyielding as she absorbed his unbothered, arrogant confidence.

Under the pale moonlight, her face was framed by sharp, traditional makeup—dark, precision-lined eyes and a deep crimson stain on her lips that gave her an alluring, almost lethal elegance. She wore her kimono loosely, the heavy silk dipping low and hanging off her shoulders to expose the pale line of her collarbones in a slow, careless display of grace.

A slow, amused smirk touched her lips, her dark eyes narrowing with a quiet, dangerous intrigue.

"A smile might confuse a lesser ghost," Sayaka murmured, her voice cool and steady, laced with dry humor. "But I doubt it would save you from something that truly wanted you dead. Though... given that little flash of color in your eyes, I suppose you aren't entirely human yourself, are you?"

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping over him with sharp, calculating precision before meeting his dark eyes once more.

"So it wasn't mere luck that brought you here," she added softly, taking another deliberate step closer, the wooden teeth of her geta striking the pavement with practiced grace as her sloped kimono shifted against her shoulders. "You came looking for something out of the ordinary, confident in your own invulnerability. Tell me, stranger... now that you've found what you were looking for, what do you intend to do about it?"

It was as if he were looking at a living painting. He wouldn't call her a doll; no, such a descriptor felt undermining to the sheer beauty that stood in front of him. If they both shared all the time in the world; Ciro wouldn't mind standing in front of her for most of it to enjoy the view.

Alas, he was in the middle of a conversation; so such an idea would have to be shelved for the time being.

"Goodness, you read me like an open book." It wasn't as if he were trying to hide it in the first place. They had extreme control over their appearance - such a small trick was something done as a warning, or a show of power - they would let the woman decide - but it was definitely some sort of minor test to see if she were paying attention in the first place.

"What I am can't be described too easily; but let's just say I truly cannot be killed, hm?" Raising a finger over his lips as if it were a secret, he winks in her direction before relaxing again. Truly - if he hadn't just admitted to not being human; Ciro easily passes as one. Dressed in a casual-formal suit with styled blonde shoulder-length hair and deep, deep brown eyes.. the only oddity about him is why he was in such a location in the first place; he wasn't even dressed for the occasion.

"Please, don't treat me as some sort of threat." He chuckles once more, then offering a hand out to her.

"Your use running out would imply you were only valuable for what you remembered, Rosalea," Akio said smoothly, his voice low, steady, and entirely composed in the quiet room. "Memory is just information. What you possess is an eye for detail and a talent for reading men who think themselves unreadable."

He leaned back, resting his hands neatly over the armrests of his chair, dark eyes holding her gaze with quiet intensity.

"If I intended to discard you, I wouldn't have spent five hours listening to you dissect every associate in my files," he continued, a faint, dark amuse glimmering in his expression. "Nor would I have guaranteed the destruction of your former home. Consider that mansion as good as ash."

He tilted his head slightly, measuring the exhaustion weighing on her shoulders.

"I don't think it's that impressive. I was just stuck in the same room as those men for days on end so I ended up picking up a few things." She found it unbelievable that she actually had any sort of skills. Wasn't it just a case of absorbing information when she had nothing better to do but sit around and look pretty for over 50 year old men?

"I mean - you could have discarded me like.. right now. You can kick me out the door." It was clear she was starting to run on fumes as the exhausted rapidly kept up with her. Just as she was about to say something else she stops, eyes widening in surprise as he mentions the mansion being ash.

He was going to burn it down for her?

Now she really wanted to be a witness!

Too bad she was at least aware enough it wasn't worth asking for.

Sayaka didn't flinch at his sudden presence, though her posture remained sharp, watchful beneath the pale wash of moonlight. The distinct, rhythmic clack-clack of her koma geta echoed crisp and clear against the worn stone path as she shifted her weight—a steady, wooden cadence cutting through the ambient chirping of the crickets.

A slight, knowing curve touched her lips as she took in his charming, easy demeanor—a defense mechanism she recognized all too well in men who wandered where they didn't belong.

"Safe?" Sayaka echoed, her voice quiet and steady. She let her gaze sweep over him, measuring his relaxed frame before meeting his eyes once more. "I could ask you the very same thing. A handsome face and a friendly smile won't do you much good if the rumors about these grounds prove to be true."

She took a slow, unhurried step closer, the wooden teeth of her geta striking the pavement with practiced balance. There was no tremor of fear in her stance; if anything, the quiet solitude of the night seemed to suit her.

It wasn't like he was easy to kill in the first place.

Letting out a low chuckle, he spoke once more - his tone rather confident. "Don't worry about me. My safety is basically guaranteed. Hence why I can take such refreshing strolls at night." A small shrug follows his sentence. "I'm sure if push comes to shove, it's better to be showing a vengeful ghost a smile rather than terror. It'd confuse them, right?"

Ciro was familiar in the pride of being on a higher rung of the power ladder; and with that familiarity came a lack of fear. He found no joy in pretending to be scared unless it was for some dramatic reason, and this face wasn't entirely that sort of person.

Adjusting his posture to avoid looking too much like a statue, he cocks his head slightly to the side, deep, dark brown eyes changing colour to a bright yellow for not even a second, gone in a blink.

He set the pen down, dark eyes fixing on her as he absorbed what she had just admitted about her marriage.

"A clause forbidding you from leaving the property," he noted softly, a quiet, dangerous undercurrent in his voice. "He kept you caged like a trophy, oblivious that he was keeping an observer in his shadow. He thought you were blind simply because you were quiet."

A sharp, faint smirk touched his lips.

"When my men secure the estate, we will tear those bar cabinets apart. You just saved us hours of searching."

He slid the folder aside and pushed the next one across the desk.

"You have a sharper memory than you credit yourself for, Rosalea—especially when you stop fighting me. Now... let us see what the next associate left behind."

By 5:00 AM, the stack of folders was finally gone, replaced by neat lines of notes across Akio’s pad. He capped his fountain pen with a soft click, leaning back into his armchair as he met her gaze.

"You tore through three financial networks in a single night," he said smoothly. "You were convinced you had nothing to offer outside your husband's shadow, yet you've proven to be the most efficient asset in this operation."

A faint smirk touched his lips as he tilted his head.

At the mention of caging her, she can only pout. "You're just doing the same thing to me too. Even if I walked into this one, it's all the same."

Upon hearing the news he was planning to go through her (old? previous?) home; surprise appeared on her expression; quickly followed by anger. "If you're going to go through it - tear the whole building down. That whole mansion can burn into ashes for all I care." She'd love to see the show but she got the feeling there was no way in hell Akio would let her be at another potential crime scene.

---

After a few hours of going through all the names in the list, almost all of them followed up by a rant on how terrible or disgusting the man was - including the habit she'd noticed from them, what fetishes they openly had, how some had oogled her a little too disrespectfully, what secrets or business they talked about with her husband, or how loose their lips were after a few drinks or the right bribe - she certainly felt like she had spoken more than ever in her entire life.

Staring at the empty desk surface, then back towards him, catching the sight of his smirk - and honestly she wasn't sure if it was the sudden wave of tiredness or the fact she felt like this guy didn't smile at all - but she ended up laughing at his question.

When she finished, he made a quick, elegant note on the pad beside him.

"Mason Bridges," Akio murmured, his voice low and smooth. "Arrogant, reckless, and predictable. But more importantly... leverageable."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms against the edge of the mahogany desk, his gaze locking onto Rosalea's flushed, indignant face.

"He used your husband's influence to bury harassment claims from air hostesses," Akio noted, tapping the pen against the paper. "Which means there is a paper trail of settlements, non-disclosure agreements, or payoffs hidden in his private accounts—or your husband's. Bridges trusted him with his darkest secrets to keep his reputation intact."

A faint, sharp smirk touched Akio’s lips as he looked at her.

"Probably more so the Fallon's than him... they can hide things really easily." Like herself for example.

"Ugh. I can't even think of this as a good thing - thinking about him pisses me off the more I think about it." She could still feel the stickiness behind his stare every time he came over; or how he would grab her hand and hold it for a little too long whilst her husband would smile behind them.

"I never went to his home - he'd always come to us; or my husband would go and leave me behind." One of the clauses of their marriage was that she couldn't leave the property.

A quiet, low chuckle escaped his throat at her scrambled logic about ghosts and hauntings.

"Ghosts haunt because they are tethered to things they failed to resolve in life," Akio said smoothly, picking up a heavy fountain pen and resting its tip against the desk. "You are very much alive, Rosalea. And you are going to resolve them."

He tapped a neat, substantial stack of manila folders sitting on her side of the desk, his gaze remaining fixed on her expressive face.

"Those files contain financial records, inventory logs, and personal ledgers from your husband's associates," Akio explained, his voice calm and methodical. "You spent twelve years playing the quiet wife in those rooms, absorbing details you probably didn't even realize were important. Names, dates, habits... inconsistencies."

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the polished mahogany as he held her gaze.

All the things she knew about herself - was only kept to herself! No one else!

Looking over at the stack of folders; she felt a sense of overwhelming dread. Did she really have to go through all of that tonight? One of her eyebrows twitched in disbelief. There was no way, right?

By the way he was speaking - it seemed it was going to be the case.

Trying to ignore him looking at her and focusing on the pile, she hesitantly reaches up and picks up the first folder atop of the stack, placing it in front of her and opening it up.

The name of the man at the top of the list causes the expression on her face to twist in some disgust.

"Mason Bridges. His family dealt in the luxury car industry - but he had a side hustle on the side with distributing private jets. He was.. an extremely gross man!" She slams her hand down on the page. "He spoke like he had higher power simply because he used air travel for everything! And he constantly was inviting my husband to his private parties on his planes - and then trying to get me to join! To 'stay on his good side' - every time he came over I had to wear open toed shoes or even be barefoot since he had a huge foot fetish! And he only liked the feet of women 20 years younger than him!" She then pointed to herself to emphasize the type of women he liked.

Being given permission to help her was like a dog being given a biscuit: He was elated. Carmichael swiftly moves to pick up her belongings with ease, his happiness apparent on his scarred face.   But his happiness did not deafen his ears to her tone. She sounded tired.  He motions with a turn of his neck for her to follow him. 

"Ah.. thank you again." Watching as he picked up her luggage so easily, she remains partially frozen in place for a few long seconds, as if figuring out if it were okay for her to move at all. Once he did make the motion to follow, she seemed to regain her footing - attempting to match his pace as she strolled alongside Carmichael.

❛  careful, or we're never getting out of this bed.  ❜

❛  you're making it very hard to leave.  ❜

❛  who said i wanted this to just be a casual one-time thing?  ❜

❛  you looked peaceful, so i didn't want to wake you just yet.  ❜

❛  don't get up yet.  ❜

❛  sorry, i didn't mean to fall asleep on you after.  ❜

❛  we should probably talk about what happened.  ❜

❛  can we not ruin this by talking yet?  ❜

❛  i could get used to waking up like this.  ❜

❛  i thought you'd be gone before i woke up.  ❜

❛  don't look at me like that unless you want a round two.  ❜

❛  you're trouble first thing in the morning.  ❜

❛  no need to act shy now, I saw more than that last night.  ❜

❛  you're blushing again.  ❜

❛  i think the neighbors may have heard us.  ❜

❛  it's only awkward if you make it awkward.  ❜

❛  i don't know what's gotten into me last night; i don't usually do this.  ❜

❛  i should probably go now ... unless you want me to stay.  ❜

❛  please don't say this was a mistake.  ❜

❛  we crossed a line last night.  ❜

❛  well, i guess this does complicate things.  ❜

❛  i don't want to pretend this didn't happen.  ❜

❛  are you sore?  ❜

❛  i think my shirt is still somewhere in the hallway.  ❜

❛  how did your clothes end up over there?  ❜

❛  i remember you were very eager to get them off.  ❜

❛  i think i have some scratches on my back.  ❜

❛  i got worried when i woke up, and you weren't there anymore.  ❜

❛  i don't want this to be just one night.  ❜

❛  please tell me you don't regret it.  ❜

❛  last night meant something to me.  ❜

❛  this changes everything, doesn't it?  ❜

❛  were you trying to leave without saying goodbye?  ❜

❛  like you even remember what happened last night ...  ❜

❛  you might want to cover that before anyone sees.  ❜

❛  i didn't hear you complaining last night.  ❜

❛  i liked seeing that side of you.  ❜

❛  you took care of me last night. let me return the favor.  ❜

❛  i think i'm in trouble because i want this again.  ❜

❛  i wanted you last night, and i still want you today.  ❜

His fingers didn't squeeze, but the weight of his hand remained—a constant, heavy reminder of who held the room.

"You are listening, Rosalea," Akio murmured, his voice dropping into a low, smooth cadence as he tilted his head slightly. "But you are still fighting. Finding loopholes to quiet your mind while your body stays rooted."

His thumb traced a slow, deliberate line along the side of her throat, feeling the quiet pulse beneath her skin before his hand finally slid down to rest lightly over her shoulder.

"I brought you down here because I have no intention of letting you hide away in that room, wallowing in thirty years of unsorted noise," he said, stepping back just enough to give her space, though his dark gaze never left hers. "If you are awake, you are present. Take a seat at the desk across from mine."

He gestured calmly toward the sleek chair, turning to walk back around to his side of the room.

"Is it bad that I'm fighting? Even if I have to be a ghost - or whatever, that sort of thing - they still haunt people and make noise- and are unruly - all that stuff-" Her argument was clearly her trying to clutch her pearls to put something together; even if it were nonsensical.

As he did finally step away her posture seemed much better; as if his looming presence had caused her to be doing the opposite of what he said, but the moment he stepped away she could straighten herself up again.

"Huh?"

So she didn't need to stand in the corner of his office?

Walking over to where he gestured, the raven haired woman takes a seat at the desk, with the same confusion on her face shared with a person whose first day it was ever working some office job.

A faint, slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I care about your compliance, Rosalea," Akio murmured, his voice impossibly smooth, completely unbothered by her accusation. "Your feelings are entirely yours to manage."

He leaned in slightly closer, his dark eyes locking onto hers, unblinking.

"And there is no contradiction here. Expecting you to stand properly isn't demanding perfection—it is demanding presence. I do not want a doll, but I will not tolerate a slumping, petulant child in my office."

His fingers tightened ever so slightly against her chin, just enough to command her absolute focus, before slowly sliding down the curve of her neck.

And it seemed that would be the situation for a while.

All she could do in that second was stick her tongue out at him. If he was going to call her a child; she'd just behave like one.

"Is it not enough that I'm standing here right now? I told you I'd listen to you, and I am."

It was a simple loophole in her mind. She stood where he wanted but Roselea could rattle off whatever she wanted.

Hearing the sound of his demeanor change slightly did ring some alarm bells in her head, frowning upwards at him as he continued to speak. Whilst she still wanted to go at him, with that hand pressing against her neck she decided to at least try and reign it in a little for the time being.

"You speak as though your husband's standards still apply here, Rosalea," Akio murmured, his voice cutting smoothly through her indignant protest. He rose slowly from his seat, towering, immaculately composed, and without a single sign of fatigue despite the hour.

He stepped around the desk, his stride measured as he closed the distance between them, stopping just a breath away.

"Your husband gave you an hour because he was content to wait," Akio continued, his gaze locking onto hers with heavy, suffocating focus. "I am not. When I call for you, five minutes is five minutes—disheveled, half-awake, or otherwise."

He reached out, the cool tips of his fingers catching her chin to tilt her face up slightly, his thumb brushing over her jawline.

As he stood up, she still remained rooted in the place she was ordered to be, fists clenching tighter as her nails dug into the palms of her hands.

"If you want me to arrive on time then, it'd be best to not make comments on my appearance. Do not wake me up and call me down within five minutes and then say that I look like shit. Do you even care about a woman's feelings?"

She pouts when he takes her chin, staring up at him with unblinking eyes.

"Yes! Yes! Do you not enjoy such a past time yourself? Watching as such beautiful creatures flutter about from their day-to-day! Yes! It's so delightful!" He couldn't think of any reason why the other would find his hobby odd. To him, it was perfectly normal! Although in today's case - perhaps his location for doing such a hobby was abnormal.

Seems he had passed some sort of secret test, standing himself up from the ground after the dramatics from earlier, brushing any loose bits of grass from his trousers as he adjusts his posture to appear less pathetic and more friendly as per usual.

The returning smile on his lips grew at the remark, laughter quickly escaping him. "Ah! It seems I'm transparent as anything with you!" Whilst he could physically make himself look like a human, if someone could sense magic - then his true form was evident. He didn't put any effort into suppressing it; as most of his time was spent around humans in the first place he didn't want to waste his energy on something unnecessary.