#fatescattered

How did one go from being a respectable lieutenant to a wanted felon on the run? Very easily, as Billy had come to learn. Life spent hiding out in the mountains since parting ways with Rebecca had been lonely. Sometimes Billy felt like he was going insane when talking to himself— who else did he have to converse with? But it sure beat being confined to a cell awaiting his end. He’d narrowly escaped the death penalty once before. There wouldn’t be a second time if he were to be apprehended again.

Still.. Billy wished there was some way of training himself to resist the urge of looking over his shoulder with every unexpected noise. For all he knew? The next one could be somebody ready to jump him with a pair of handcuffs. But his days in cuffs were over. With the name ‘Billy Coen’ filed away under ‘deceased’ thanks to Rebecca.. nobody should actively be searching for him, right? As long as he stayed under the radar.. he should be fine.

Or so he thought up until now. The sudden snap of a twig had Billy’s hand going for his gun, fingers itching to unholster it, until..

“..Rebecca?” Her face came into view, and for a moment.. Billy thought he was imagining it. If not for her speaking up to confirm she was real, he may have summed it up to some sort of dream. How she’d found him all the way out here? He didn’t know. And although he was relieved to see her.. he couldn’t allow himself to let his guard down fully, legs remaining glued in place where he’d wanted to step towards her.

@fatescattered ┊ CONT. FROM HERE.

       Of course, Zane didn't miss the way Marina almost instinctively tried to hide the tremors. Her fingers curled tightly into her palms, as if she just squeezed tightly enough ... but it didn't stop. He was patient, briefly casting his eyes down between them, his head tilted towards her slightly. He trusted she would find her voice in her own time ... and something about the sound of it as she finally spoke told him this was heavy, in some way. The explanation was vague, but he thought he understood her meaning — she had some kind of history with this city ... and it did not sound good.

       He reached out then, his fingers briefly grazing Marina’s forearm before he urged her to loosen her grip so he could slide his hand into hers. Zane offered a gentle, reassuring squeeze ... and he let the touch linger. Once they'd passed the threshold of casual touch, it seemed impossible for either of them to stop. Any excuse to touch, Zane took readily and, while he couldn't be certain beyond a doubt ... it seemed like Marina was of the same mind. Now that Zane knew that he was indeed very important to her? It was difficult not to notice the small things, to look for meaning in every tiny gesture, every glance. Regardless of whether or not he was right about any of it, he was more than happy to bask in their closeness, let things flow naturally. It was nice.

       His hold was firm enough, but if she decided to take her hand back, she could slip out of it easily. ❝I have heard stories — of the bad parts, at least,❞ he said, nodding solemnly, and his thumb began to smooth idly along the back of her hand, back and forth.

       Zane glanced up then, his gaze meeting hers and the smile he offered her was like a faint glow in Ketterdam's notorious foggy, coal smoke tinted air. ❝If dredging up the details is too difficult, I understand. Otherwise, I will listen if you want to tell me.❞ He paused, briefly casting his gaze ahead of them, as they hadn't yet reached the docks. ❝We still have some time. Or, we could rightfully ignore Ketterdam's existence ... at least until we dock. Up to you.❞ His smile softened and, even with their hands still clasped together, Zane lightly nudged his shoulder against hers.

{♚ x @fatescattered || Genya x}

 Matt’s gaze swept around the busy ballroom full of highly esteemed guests, and he let out a sigh. Saints, did he hate this damn place. How long has it been since this had become his ( most likely permanent ) assignment? Weeks? Months? Honestly, he wasn’t too sure. Days seemed to blend into each other lately.

 He knew why he was here, of course. Why it had been him out of all the Grisha in the Second Army to be stationed at the King’s side due to ‘heightened security concerns’. It wasn’t because the Darkling had been genuinely concerned about the King’s safety, or because he was an exceptional fighter, or incredibly skilled with his powers, no. It was because of who Matt was. Because of what he was.  And what better way to keep him isolated than to make him the King’s guardian dog?

 Even now, after all these years of proving himself loyal to the Darkling over and over again, he still wasn’t trusted. Not by the Darkling, not by the other Grisha. And it hadn’t quite dawned on him (or he didn’t want to let it dawn on him) until he had to take his place by the King’s side that they likely never would. He’d always remain the outsider, a risk. A weak link. A time-bomb ready to explode at any given time.

 ( It hurt far more than he’d ever be able to put into words )

 There had, however, always been one exception to the rule: Genya Safin. She’d never seemed to care. Or if she had, she’d never let it show. She’d kept him company countless of times; had,  perhaps, unknowingly been the only thing that’d stopped Matt from running away from this life, too. He hadn’t seen her in years. Between her duties at the Grand Palace, and him being bounced around on different assignments that kept him far away from Os Alta altogether, there’d never been an opportunity.

 He’d almost forgotten that she was here. At least until she walked in as part of the Queen’s entourage. It was the only thing that made the prospect of being here even remotely bearable. Still, it had been so long—would she even remember him? For months, he just observed her from the sidelines, wondering. She never seemed to look his way, never seemed to pay him any kind of attention. Surely, he was just a distant childhood memory.

 Still, tonight he’d decided he wanted to know for sure. He’d waited until the King was drunk enough not to notice his absence, then quietly made his way over to where she was standing. He stood beside her, hands behind his back and eyes trained ahead, watching the people dancing and drinking and pretending they liked each other. “Genya,” he said loud enough for her to hear over the music, but quiet enough not to attract anyone else's attention. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

he's straightforward, with nearly no courtesy for kindness or gentleness. it's something they both have in common, he believes; the few things that would forever tethered them with each other beyond the blood they shared, that his sister and him appreciates honesty, no matter how frank or brutal. or at least, mostly that's the case.

he couldn't have thought she would— lean towards the other side. he wonders how long she kept that one.

or maybe there had been indication ? god knows. min-jae certainly didn't pay attention, not towards the end there. his fault ? eh. it was her decision. if he'd been his, he'd know he would appreciate no one getting in the way. he expels the smoke of the cigarette between his mouth, his shoulders dropping with the motion as he does: relaxed, nonchalant. like he hasn't just told her something he knew she'd vehemently reject.

❛⠀it's supposed to be at that stupid steakhouse. ❜

Loathing.

It coats her heart until blackened, though the princess was just as Kanae had always described: like a beautiful light you can’t help but want to protect. Shinobu’s extinguished the second Kanae left this world without her, joining their parents in a place she can’t reach. Blame is an almost effortless shift, fixated on the princess, keeping her at an arm’s distance for protection and duty purposes only.

Accompanying her during today’s outing an example, a test of her sworn oath, quick to intervene the second a hand seizes the princess’ wrist. She’d acted accordingly, trusting the princess’ attempts to diffuse, acting far more noble than any other might’ve in her situation. But there was a flash of something watching the interaction, that anger she’s kept at bay a ferocious beast threatening to be unleashed, dipping her octave to threatening, dangerous, sheathed blade equipped with a variety of various poisons she could correct such entitled behavior.

But he, to her dismay, takes the hint, quick to excuse himself, leaving her alone with the princess. She expects whining, sobs even given the shift of manner to violence, and to have the man hunted and executed for his act… but Shinobu’s surprised when Mitsuri’s concerns fixate on her. “ You don’t need to worry about me. I’m unharmed, my lady. ” Her smile’s relaxed, intimidating glare vanished in the blink of an eye. Gently, she takes the princess’ wrist, inspecting the bruising encircled. “ We must tend to this. Make sure there is nothing fractured, and for you to rest your hand. ” Violet orbs search light green. “ Are you alright? That must’ve been quite frightening. ”

She simply just stared as they talked about one another, about their relationship, and ideas they were thinking of for their engagement. She could tell her mother cared for none of it (and likely wanted to part in the preparations for a wedding she didn't approve of).

Bell held onto Lydia's hand the whole time. Trying to stop herself from looking at her mother too often. Knowing exactly what it meant when she stayed silent like this, she didn't approve of Lydia now, and if she's being honest, she never would.

The only good thing that came out of all of this was growing closer to Lydia. Though, she did regret having to expose her to her mother. Thankfully her mother was pulled away for an important call, so the pair were excused as they made their way back.

As soon as they exited her family home and back to the car, she let out a sigh of relief to actually be out of there. Immediately, her hands reach for Lydia's without giving it a second thought. “I'm sorry, I knew this was going to be a horrible meeting…we should have just canceled. Came up with an excuse to not come.” Giving her hands a squeeze on her own. “Are you okay?”

There was so much going through his head in the awkward silence that’d blanketed the locker room around them. Not even the rustling of clothes as they dressed was enough to serve as a distraction.

The experiments he’d been put through. Ramblings of enhancing the C-virus. Albert Wesker. Jake hadn’t much cared when they’d droned on about using his blood and whatnot, but the taunting about his deadbeat father? It’d made his blood boil. He hadn’t even known the guy, and Jake despised him from the information he’d learned alone. Didn’t everyone after all the people he’d hurt and murdered? Being related to someone like that was still a hard pill to swallow. It’d also got Jake thinking, mind spiralling.

Clearly Wesker had been sick in the head. He’d had something rotten deeply rooted inside him. What if that same illness was rooted inside him too, and the evil just hadn’t awoken yet? Jake had already done so much bad in his life. At least now, if anything, he finally had an explanation for the kind of man he’d turned out to be.

Had Sherry known about all this..? It sure would’ve been nice for her to give him the heads up if so. But that argument conversation was for future Jake to worry about. Above all else, he was worried about her wellbeing, and getting them both the hell out of this facility before they were once again detained and escorted back to their cells for punishment.