aquamarine dollhouse

Then, slowly, the tension dissolved from his shoulders.

He didn't pull away, nor did he rush to comfort her with hollow platitudes. Instead, Akio lifted his hands, letting one rest gently against the back of her head, his fingers settling loosely near her messy hair while his other hand came to rest reassuringly against her back. The physical contact was calm, steady, and anchor-like—a quiet proof that this wasn't a dream she was about to wake up from.

"I assure you, I am entirely flesh and blood," Akio murmured, his voice low, deep, and carrying a faint, dry hum of amusement at her earlier robot question.

He stayed still as her grip on his shirt tightened, letting her quiet sobs hit his chest until the initial wave of shock began to settle. He could feel the desperate tension in her body—the absolute terror that releasing him meant slipping back into whatever nightmare she’d just escaped.

"You don't need to hold on like I'm going to vanish," he added softly, his tone shifting into something surprisingly gentle as he let his hand rub a slow, grounding circle into her back. "The footage is real. The place is secured. You're safe here."

He tilted his head down slightly, listening to the muffled, tearful thanks she kept repeating against his clothes.

The weight of his hands does slowly begin to calm her down. She doesn't remember the last time she's been properly hugged - or even initiated one herself. That train of thought hits her with a small wave of embarrassment, which at this point only adds to her tears. The unloved black mark of the Fallon family never got to hug anyone, and now here she was clinging to a man she barely knew just to keep herself rooted in reality.

Her tears continued to fall for another several minutes before her breathing slowly became steady again, and now she didn't want to let go for other reasons - she probably looked even worse after bawling her eyes out like that.

"You can always get another shirt." He clearly didn't lack the funds to get one if she destroyed this one with her tears and hands.

"I will - but promise not to laugh, okay? I'm going to be ugly." Sighing; she carefully lets go of him, keeping her head down so that his eyes couldn't meet her own, teary red ones. As she sat up, she did notice she had actually left tear stains on his shirt, but did not say anything about it; opting to rub her eyes instead as if trying to fix her face to no avail.

He didn't bother offering a response she wouldn't stay to hear. Resting could wait; the machinery of the underworld moved regardless of fatigue, and he had a promise to deliver. He made the necessary calls, watched the distant horizon until the first light broke, and ensured the burn order on the mansion was executed to completion.

The quiet clicking of porcelain against tray wood was the first sound to break the stillness of Rosalea’s room hours later.

Morning light filtered softly through the heavy velvet drapes, casting a warm glow across the king-sized bed. Akio stood near the small sitting table by her bedside, placing a silver tray down with unhurried precision. On it sat a fresh pot of black tea, a glass of water, and a sleek, folded tablet playing a muted, looping video feed.

He turned his dark gaze toward the bed, taking in her sleeping form before stepping closer. He looked pristine as ever—crisp shirt, dark vest, not a single hair out of place, completely defying her warning about collapsing from exhaustion.

"Wake up, Rosalea," Akio murmured, his voice low, smooth, and entirely unbothered by the lack of sleep.

He leaned down slightly, resting one hand on the edge of the mattress, his amber-tinged eyes locking onto hers the moment her lashes fluttered open.

The deep sound of Akio's voice did draw her out of her slumber, waking up in a small daze as her eyes immediately locked into his own, and all the memories of the past twenty four hours came rushing in - quickly causing her to drop the pillow she'd been hugging and sit up.

Unlike her counterpart; she looked exactly as one would expect a person who'd fallen asleep on top of a bed in their clothes - her hair was messy, strands sticking to the side of her face she'd been laying down upon, and her clothes wrinkled up from tossing and turning. There still was a lingering sleepiness in her eyes, which she tried to rub out as he spoke; freezing mid-action. Staring at him in disbelief before shaking her head.

"You're not a robot, are you?"

This was her new conclusion to how this man was operating.

Brushing some of her hair from her face, she follows the line of his gesture; catching the sight of the tablet and moving fast to close the distance between herself and the screen.

Picking it up, she holds it closer to her face, as if checking the validity of the video, but no - she does remember the garden barely seen. She remembers the walks she'd take there - and the way there was security on almost every corner and how they acted friendly to ease her anxiety. She remembered the burnt frame where the door used to be and having to wait there to greet her husband every day.

Hands shaking, she looks back up at Akio, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "You really did it!" Emotion overrides common sense as she tosses the tablet onto the bed, reaching up and wrapping her arms around the man, hugging him tightly as she buries her head into his chest, trying to hide her now-crying face.

A low, velvety hum stirred in Sayaka’s throat, her crimson lips curving as she caught the subtle shift in his tone—that quiet, unexpected warmth slipping out before his easy charm smoothed back over it.

He didn't flinch. He didn't pull away. He simply stood there with his open palm, watching her with a patient persistence that felt surprisingly soft.

An ancient, quiet ache rippled beneath her composed facade. For centuries, mortals and monsters alike came to her seeking favors, beauty, or secrets—yet true, enduring companionship with someone of formidable standing was a rare indulgence she secretly craved. To stand beside another immortal, someone untouched by time and unbound by fragile human mortality, was a temptation that made her pulse flutter.

She slowly withdrew her hand, resting her dark-nailed fingers against the loose, elegant folds of her dark yukata. Her ink-dark eyes searched Ciro’s face with a sudden, unhurried depth.

"Ciro..." she murmured, letting his name roll off her tongue with slow, lingering satisfaction. Her dark eyes glinted with sharp amusement. "'Today,' you say? How mysterious... keeping a few names hidden up your sleeve, are we?"

A coy, knowing smile curved her lips, her tone dipping into a smooth, teasing whisper.

"I suppose two can play at that game. A fine name for tonight, at least..."

She shifted her weight slightly, tilting her head with a dangerous, alluring warmth gleaming behind her coy smile.

"Most tales are exaggerated by those too frightened to look the truth in the eye," she said softly, her voice dropping into an intimate, tantalizing register. "Though... if you are truly curious about which rumors hold weight, I might be inclined to tell you. But certainly not while standing out in the chill."

Her gaze held his, completely magnetic.

"My sanctuary lies just beyond the trees, where the tea is warm and time moves at whatever pace we choose," Sayaka whispered, her tone an unashamed, flirtatious invitation. "Unless, of course, a creature of your stature is afraid of where the night might take us?"

"I'm afraid it's a little more than 'a few'." He teases, lowering his hand seeing that she had accepted his invitation; albeit in a somewhat unconventional matter.

"If you want I can have it be a little guessing game in the future, although I fear you might see right through me if I'm not careful." To test their luck, with the last few words of their sentence, the tone of his voice lowered to a much deeper register, not matching the face at all; although the follow up chuckle seemed to sound exactly like the few he'd already done this encounter so far.

"I have to agree. Fear is such a human emotion, and it causes for such misremembering, doesn't it? When they're in the moment, they focus too much on survival - and the danger can be greatly exaggerated or details forgotten in favor of something.. more."

Brown eyes never left those of the woman before him, showing a small shine of joy when her invitation was extended his way.

"It'd be a shame if we caught a cold, wouldn't it?" He asks; if it it were possible for either of them to even get sick in the first place - a highly unlikely situation.

"Observation without understanding is useless, Rosalea," Akio said smoothly, his voice low and unhurried as he stood up from behind the mahogany desk. "Many people spend years in rooms like those and learn nothing. You retained details that will crumble an entire syndicate."

He rounded the desk with slow, deliberate steps, his tall frame casting a quiet shadow over her before he halted a comfortable distance away. He didn't miss the widening of her eyes when he had mentioned the mansion, nor the fleeting spike of desire in her expressions to watch her former cage burn.

"As for kicking you out..." Akio continued, his dark eyes fixing onto hers with an intense, unyielding calm. "I do not throw away valuable assets, nor do I leave tired women to wander the streets at dawn. My word is not given lightly, and I do not intend to repeat myself."

He reached out, gesturing toward the private adjoining quarters just off his main office.

At this point, she'd believe his words when she saw hard proof she'd actually done something other than fill out his notepad.

Stopping herself from saying anything else - in case it showed a bit of her true colours, or was a reflection of what he said, she slowly nodded along to what he said instead, giving a silent agreement for now.

Standing up from the chair; she doesn't question why she's going to a different bedroom this time, just following his guide as she makes her way over towards the door.

With her back turned as she walks along, she does speak up again. "I'm serious - you better sleep too. If you collapse from exhaustion I'm not strong enough to carry you somewhere safe."

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.