#dorogava

the air feels off,    stifling almost.     something is stirring somewhere in the cai household and tyler simply cannot place it,     which in turn frustrates him all the more.     juliette’s presence in the house is scarce these days,     at least to his eye.     it’s no wonder,     with all the responsibility sitting on her shoulders that the dark spots under her eyes seem bolder than before,     but it’s odd to him that she is lighter on her feet,     easier in her smiles.     he wonders,     and wonders,     and wonders.     it would be a betrayal of the harshest kind to accuse her of anything outright and he knows this,     but he cannot help but fit the pieces of the puzzle together,     eyes fixed on his breakfast and brows furrowed harshly to the middle of his forehead.    there are rumours,    and where there are rumours there is an almost certain truth laying beneath them,     waiting to be discovered.     he waits until the table is almost empty,    the only people remaining are the maids that linger,    waiting to clear the table.      ❛  tángjiě,  ❜     he starts and pushes his plates away.       ❛  walk with me later,     there’s something i want to discuss.     that is,     if you are not already too busy.  ❜

[  RECIEVED  ]     CAPULET      ›     please don’t hate me i’m too tired and too dizzy to be hated

new york is revolting,     roma has decided.     the air in shanghai hangs heavy with the stench of blood,     but the american air is thick with a noise unlike anything he’s ever heard.     the streets are too busy and the people too many for his liking.     in shanghai an enemy is easily identified from the faces roma has committed to memory,     but here the people storm past him one after the other and too fast to see even the flicker of an expression.     marshall is in his element,     there are enough burlesque clubs and speakeasys to keep him from getting bored,     and benedikt is quite happy in himself to be wherever he is dragged.     roma wants to go home,     whether it be in disgrace or welcomed back with open arms and a title.     YOU HAVE ONE CHANCE TO REMEDY THIS.     lord montagov had said before putting his son on a boat headed for the west.     DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME WITH YOUR MERCY,     THIS TIME.     roma can only be thankful that his father did not send dimitri to ensure the deed was done,     the dagger alone weighs heavy in his pocket,     though he knows that without word of his success it is only a matter of time before someone is sent to follow through in his stead.

he pushes the thoughts from his mind with the same ferocity he pushes through the late evening downpour.     even the rain is heavier in new york,     and by the time roma reaches the club marshall had raced to inform him of he is nearly soaked to the bone.     someone at the door takes his coat and directs him towards the floor,     smoke filtering through the archway and pierced by the stage-lights.     roma has to squint to survey the area,     hand coming to shield his eyes as the music comes to a slow fade with the last notes ringing out,     thunderous applause and whistles from the crowd filling what little silence had managed to follow.     then he sees her and all sound comes to a screeching halt,     time stopping.     roma would be able to pick out the silhouette of her body anywhere,     but it’s juliette cai’s smile that truly gives her away.     he foolishly thought a smile that sincere might have only been reserved for him,     but it seems one of the men at an overpopulated table has captured her affections just fine in her absence in shanghai;     he stands and makes his way towards juliette,     rose clasped in his palm before he offers it to her and roma thinks . . .     BETTER TO KILL HIM FIRST,     LEST WE HAVE ANY WITNESSES.

atop the roof of the jazz house,     the haven above two territories,     they could be anything.     today they were as they were most days,     except juliette had decided she was a stargazer and roma her scope,     his gaze lingering over stars her own seemed to ignore,     his gentle touch guiding her pointer finger to the constellation she could not find.     roma made the mistake of looking to the east and caught sight of the sun piercing the horizon.     soon the sky would be painted red in warning,     soon they would stop being roma and juliette;     they would return to being the heirs of the scarlet gang and the white flowers,     they would return to being enemies.     sighing,     he dropped their hands to his chest and moved to entangle their fingers.     the comforting weight of her hand made him feel warm where the weather still turned his breath to white clouds.         ❛  there has to be more.  ❜     he declared,     meaning the stars,     but then he thought it could have meant anything.      his dark gaze had settled on the burning lights that seemed farther away,     unreachable to their eyes.         ❛  i’ll find one unclaimed,      and i’ll name it for you.  ❜     would she even have liked that?     he wasn’t sure,     turning his head to look at her.     their faces were so close that their noses almost touched.      ❛  or i’d give it to you to name.  ❜

@dorogava​ said:    i’m on the run. i stole a car.

      “i — ”  alright, then.  if that’s what we’re doing today.  jesper puffs his cheeks and blows an alarmed little breath out.  he’s not sure, exactly, what pleasantries they are meant to exchange, but he was so certain that at the very least, they were on normal — familiar? — enough terms that saying, hello was expected and preferred.  he can’t help but feel a little as if he’s been handed a fork and told to eat a bowl of soup: baffled.  “well, since the only thing i’ve stolen this week is a pen from the bank, i’d say you’re winning,”  he squints down at her,  “also: what the fuck are you on the run for?”

he has a laundry list of questions that he is not likely to get answers for.  that’s fine.  but he’ll have to tell brekker about this, and he’ll also have a laundry list of questions that jesper would not be able to answer — which is decidedly less fine.  

how much of these hills is gold.

“ fuck makes you think you’ll know me when i’m older? “ the words didn’t have the sound of a threat, but mutt’s eyes narrowed all the same, wariness tugged into the skin and muscle and the stubbornly unyielding bones beneath. he shakes his head, once, sharply, then realises a pulse of his heart too late that he might have done better to pretend not to understand her.

(he understands mandarin better than he can speak it. he doesn’t trust his accent with it, not yet. thinks he sounds too clumsy speaking it. he’ll learn. he’ll adapt. he always does. he’s learning as he goes. when they send him out -- for whichever jobs they have, usually spying, nobody suspects someone like him -- he makes it a point to learn things. sometimes it was no more than three new words of an unfamiliar tongue. sometimes he brought back word of happenings from the wide world beyond shanghai from the docks or marketplaces. he often wondered which were true and which were tall tales. sometimes he learned three new jokes or three new riddles, or tricks of this trade or the other. and every so often, he would learn some secret.)