#ignisfate

{♚ x @ignisfate || Blue x}

Continued from here

 It had been a lucky case of 'right place, right time'. Long Zhi's goal had actually been home, after a long day of classes, training and work for the clan. He'd been looking forward to Bao, to his bed, and to a few hours of sleep until he had to do it all again.

 He'd taken the same path he nearly always did: across the rooftops. Maybe it was because of that bird's eye view that he so quickly spotted what was going on. The congregation of people immediately set off alarm bells in his mind, and once he'd taken a few moments to scope out what was happening, he quickly scaled down one of the fire escapes and made his way over.

 Scaring the shit out and getting rid of the group of boys—what else could he call them?—was easy enough. A few well-placed strikes, and being confronted with the same weapon, except in much deadlier hands, usually had the habit of sending pretty much anyone scurrying away.

 Once he was certain they were gone, Long Zhi turned his attention to Blue who had clearly seen better days. "Here." Holding out his hand, he urged the other to take it, before helping him up. "Keep pressure on it as much as you can. We got a couple of doctors on our payroll. They'll fix you up. Come on."

 Not waiting for an answer, he wrapped Blue's arm around his shoulder and led him down the streets. "What the hell did you do to get stabbed like that, huh? Every time I run I to you, you seem to get your ass beat."

@ignisfate 1975. a bar, downtown Hartford, Connecticut

He sits alone at the long end of the bar, the human patrons keeping their distance from him despite the way near everywhere else people are shoulder to shoulder swaying along to the band performing on a haphazard stage and the loud hum of conversation. Having brought a book as his only company, he is more vampire than witch in low cigarette smoked light. With one elbow on the bar top, his knuckles pressed against his temples, not far from him a demon and her familiar are charming near everyone around her with polite smiles as she sits perched in a fine fitted black leather jacket like a lady holding court. Sipping at her drink and just enjoying the atmosphere with downcast eyes.

For the last hour, since she walked in dodging elbows like an anxious dancer he has been trying to decide whether she is hunting or not. It's an approach he's never seen a demon try before and like most near her, she is a small enigma to him. At first, he thought the way he caught her leaning her head slightly, her eyes closed was her playing at being partially deaf to lure in her prey of evening.

Now, as he watches from the corner of his eye a mopped hair man with a too smug smile talk to her on the wrong side while she focusses, drunk and eager for her attention- growing progressively angry. He realizes that she may not be hunting at all, and was there for the same reason he is. To feel human.

The second the man reaches out and grabs her arm roughly, shaking her from her focus he finds himself moving too fast to slide between them. Slowing only to make a calm approach as he makes himself a wall between him and her. Steeling his features, he lifts his chin in a clear threat.

"Yes, I hear you. The whole bar does. All the dramatics. It's hard not to. Find somewhere else to be. Now. She is enjoying her evening. "

Holding his gaze until the man back off with a curse, giving him a slow, fang sharped smile that sends him stumbing away and out the door he turns to the demon.

She knocked on Blue’s door impatiently – again and again – hoping he would be there. This was the time he usually was home, but no-one seemed to be in. Just her (bad) luck again. He had probably gone out shopping or was simply asleep. Damn.

That was when Nunnally broke, sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. She thought she would start to cry, but the tears didn’t come, which was unexpected, but yet, somehow, welcomed. She realized she was more angry than sad, and immediately regretted coming here (or rather to him).

What was the point? Whatever she could tell Blue would be nothing but lies. For all she knew, he might even be working for her father: another man protecting his precious daughter. As if she really was one. Nunnally hated her father so much at that very moment. So many years of lies… And for what?

“Damn it…” – she cursed, then immediately realized it wasn’t even a proper curse. A foolish rich girl who knew nothing. That was what she had been for most of her life.

After all, it was probably for the best that Blue wasn’t here. And then she heard footsteps...

“Hi…” – she said with an awkward smile, standing up and wondering how much he had actually seen – “I… I’m having a bad day…”

“…and I ran out of coffee.” – an unconvincing lie, but good enough – “Can you lend me some… or just make me a cup?”

❛ FIGHT CLUB ❜ PROMPTS     //     ✶ · ⊰ @ignisfate ⊱ · sent (blue  →  yamato)...        [ 02. ] sender leaves scratches / bruises on receiver’s body.        [ 03. ] sender cruelly applies pressure to receiver’s wound.        [ 04. ] sender lightly trails a sharp knife across receiver’s cheek.

rumi wasn't the person he had expected to be sitting beside; he had thought he'd glimpsed zoey, had attempted to approach. . . but he had gotten sidetracked. the smell of blood. this wasn't somewhere he ought to linger; zoey didn't seem to mind his presence, but he didn't know if mira and rumi would have felt the same - but peeking out from behind his bangs, the source of the scent was undeniable, and rumi was important to zoey. moving slowly and deliberately, mystery lowered himself onto the bench beside the hunter, doing his best to come off nonthreatening. “ you're . . . wounded, ” he notes, hesitant.

       one  problem  with  crossing  an  immortal  was  that  they  had  nothing  but  time,  and  seong  had  made  it  his  𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕  𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗  to  find  this..  charlatan.  he  had  lived  for  nearly  six  centuries  and  never  once  encountered  anything  resembling  a  carbon  copy  of  himself,  so  naturally  at  first,  he'd  assumed  mr.  kim  had  been  lying  through  his  teeth  to  get  out  of  the  deal  -  but  then,  day  after  day  he  found  himself  cornered  by  mr.  kim's  men,  all  hell-bent  on  returning  the  beating  seong  had  supposedly  given  their  boss.  except  it  hadn't  been  him.

he'd  managed  to  get  a  description  of  this  𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜  𝚍𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛  out  of  one  of  the  men  before  they  fled.  according  to  him,  there  was  only  one  thing  separating  the  two  of  them.  the  eyes.   day  and  night,  night  and  day.  every  park,  every  restaurant,  every  crowded  street,  every  forgotten  alley,  every  bar  in  the  city.  he  hunted  for  a  pair  of  blue  eyes  wearing  his  own  face.  until  finally…  someone  mistook  him  for  the  other  man  while  he  stood  with  his  arms  crossed  outside  an  obscure  little  bar,  the  sort  of  place  you'd  walk  past  without  ever  realizing  it  existed.

that  was  it.  he  pushed  himself  off  the  wall,  uncrossed  his  arms,  and  stepped  inside.  his  gaze  swept  across  the  room.  considering  his  night  vision,  picking  out  a  face  he  knew  better  than  any  other  was  almost  𝚝𝚘𝚘  𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢  -  his  own. 「  you.  」  an  accusing  finger  pointed  at  the  other.  the  profile  was  unmistakable.  his  face.  his  build.  only  the  eyes  were  different.  just  as  they'd  said.

    a  strange  chill  𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍  under  his  skin,  a  sort  of  prickling  ran  down  his  spine.  his  expression  something  between  disbelief  &  suspicion.  he  had  spent  weeks  searching  for  this  person,  yet  somehow...  he  hadn't  expected  this.  「  wh—  who  are  you?  what  have  you  done?  」  in  six  centuries,  he'd  witnessed  enough  impossible  phenomena  to  know  better  than  to  dismiss  anything  outright.  was  this  some  elaborate  spell?  an  illusion?  a  cruel  trick?  without  realizing  it,  he  kept  walking,  fueled  by  𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢.  he  stopped  only  a  few  feet  away,  studying  every  familiar  feature  that  somehow  belonged  to  a  stranger.  「  whatever  you're  doing  right  now...  stop  it.  」

“This, this is bullshit.”

And just where was Emma?

Sitting at the table, her back to the door, she gave no indication that she knew somebody was inside of the home now. Sitting hunched over in defeat, Emma reaches for something, the sound of some kind of liquid pouring into a glass heard... and as Clint nears her, he'd see exactly what the gods were trying to get him to understand:

She was drinking again. And judging by the entirely empty, large bottle of crown whiskey, and the second one a quarter of the way gone, she was well on her way to being drunk out of her mind.

Either she didn't register that Clint was home, or she didn't care, as she stared straight ahead, her usually glimmering pale blue eyes void of any and all light as she stares at nothing in particular.

Unprompted evil. UNPROMPTED.

The door behind him closed with a sharp snap, a deliberate move on his part. He wanted Emma to know that he was home even if today his efforts were moot. The bottle had been spotted upon his entry and immediately set off warning bells in his head. Even in his haste to reach her, the assassin moved forward in silence, a habit that Clint was sure he would never break.

Hyperaware of her drunken state, he wasn't surprised that he had gone unnoticed. A calloused hand reached out to give her shoulder a light squeeze before his head inclined to look down at her. Trained eyes met her glazed ones, a look that Clint was overly familiar with. Just not with Emma.

The Avenger moved to crouch next to her, to grabbing her by her both shoulders, his grip firmer than it had been before but not unkind. "Emma," he called quietly, the utterance laced with disbelief but lacked any true judgement.