#guiltylove

No reply immediately, huh...? Must be busy. Which is fine, because a wait gives her some time to cool off her heart, taking a seat in one of the lobby's...admittedly quite nice chairs. Plush and incredibly soft-

Hurried footsteps catch her ears before his voice could ever lift, turning...and eyes going wide in immediate delight, hurrying up from her chair.

There-! There is he is!!!

And suddenly, all that time apart wasn't so bad at all. Because it well and truly amplified her own joy at seeing him again, and the relief that swept through her heart and seeing every detail through her own eyes. (No videos, no reporters, no photographers... This Klavier, with his eyes shining brighter than any star.)

"Klavier!!!" Goodness, did he really just call her an angel?! Not that it matters, because he just seems to know her, inside and out. Arms opening wide as she darts from her moment's hesitation, giggling her way over until she collides into him; arms curling around his neck, cheek to his shoulder, and laughing with more freedom than she ever got back in Hazakura.

Back with Klavier... She didn't have to worry about such things. Dare she say it, she didn't often have to worry about a thing; given how well he understood her, he was both comfort and protector. (And hopefully, she gave off something similar for him...?)

some art of guilty and their bestie (c!elf, at the moment i don't think they have a name according to my friend?) On their red lives!

[ text: Klavier Gavin ] Mr. Klavier Gavin

[ text: Klavier Gavin ] Regarding the conversation we had. About dinner. Together

[ text: Klavier Gavin ] I would like to accept

[ text: Klavier Gavin ] Your invitation I mean

[ text: Klavier Gavin ] Unless I had been the person extending the invite. In which case

> oh god. oh god this is disastrous...

@guilty-love​

That time of year is coming again. October, the month of his death and ironically, the month that celebrates ghosts, the dead and other scary things. 

He’s just sitting on a pier, staring at the dark night sky while his cat rests comfortably on his lap, purring contently. The man in the red suit strokes the cat gently, despite not being able to feel the soft fur under his fingers. 

“It’s been six years now Sissel.” Six years of being dead. Six long years without her. 

There’s bitterness and resentment ready to surface again. The pain is slowly driving him mad. He just wanted it to end, to be reunited with his beloved again, but he couldn’t, no matter what he tried. And the thought makes him feel rage and envy, feeling him with bad feelings he’d never had before, when he was alive.

Something catches the feline’s attention and Sissel suddenly runs off, making the Manipulator snap out of his thoughts to chase after his best friend.

“Sissel, where are you going? Come back here!” He shouts after the cat.

Then Sissel stops when he sees a man with long blond hair and being the nice, friendly cat he is, he rubs his head against the man’s legs in a friendly greeting.

This--was not good.

It was not the first time Claudia had brushed with the authorities. They were a common obstacle during her hunts, a persistent but predictable nuisance, and she had always been good at evading them. The few times she had been caught had all been back in Moscow, when she’d still held her old name and a great deal less experience, and each time she had managed to break free. It had gotten easier over time.

Yet everyone’s luck runs out eventually, and it seemed hers had tonight. She had been staking out her target--a mafia enforcer who’d run a tightly controlled protection racket across a few neighborhoods in town--for weeks now, and had, by sheer coincidence, made her move on the exact night law enforcement had been conducting a raid of their own. Her escape route had been blocked off, and in the end, she had been rounded up with the rest of her target’s posse, presumed another member of their loathsome group. 

Yet insulting as that was, her concern, above all, was her sword. She--could not sense its presence. It had scalded a detective’s hand while he confiscated it from her, having ignored her when she shouted at him not to touch it. When they had hauled her away, a group of officers had been crowded around it, studying it, baffled. They must have taken it at some point. The sword would reject all but its chosen user, but it had no recourse if it were not touched by a person’s hands. They would have found a way to transport it eventually. Was it in an evidence locker somewhere? Was it even--in this facility?

The door opened, and she glanced up sharply. The man who entered was--not a police officer, but that did not put her any more at ease. She glanced down at her hands, letting out a sigh.

Larry’s heart bangs against his ribcage. No, no way. Brown eyes widen with horror at the implication of Klavier’s words. If Seluna was involved, then that could mean one of two things: one, she’d accidentally transformed and tried to hurt Klavier by accident (unlikely, as he knows she’s able to mostly control herself these days), or two...

Lynne was reading the case files all over again. It was her first case and she was excited, but she was also a bit nervous about messing things up. Cabanela had explained some of the details of the case and told her that she would be working with a prosecutor named Klavier during the investigations. She was walking around the precint with the case files in her hands, reading it over and over again until she bumped against someone.