#lostxdetective

„nice weather we're having,“ sebastian starts, rather unsure where he's going from there, but its somewhere. he knows detective oda for less than two days, not showing a sign of 'i am glad to have you as my new partner' because for sebastian it actually is along the lines of 'fuck off, i can do my work very well on my own.' if he was to say a word surely he'd get scolded. again.

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Thump. Thump. Thump.

The flow of blood beneath the flesh was steady and calm, for the most part, and Connor was fascinated ; tips of cool fingers pressed firm against the artery, and for several long moments, he simply felt, because the pulse was more than a rhythm – it was the very thing that gave Joseph his life. Androids had blood, in a loose sense of the term, but it did not work in quite the same way ( it was more artificial. Everything about them was more artificial ). and then those same two fingers eased, tracing gentle from the crook of his companion’s elbow down to the wrist, feeling the way the tendons shifted as his fist clenched and flexed and released.

❛❛  I can tell a lot of things about you.  ❜❜

Connor’s inquisitive gaze shifted somewhat reluctantly from the soft, ghostly blues beneath his flesh, hands withdrawing all the same. Their gazes interlocked and for an instant he swore that Joseph’s expression somehow SHIFTED – a softening of the eyes, a momentary falter of that most precious smile – but he captured the change a little too late to be certain that it could not be blamed upon a trick of the light, so he dismissed it in the same way he had dismissed it the last seven times he had looked at him that way, because it was easier, somehow, than ruminating on the possibility that it was something else.

He leaned forwards across the desk, interlocking his fingers as the LED embedded in his temple flashed and flickered in shades of blue, optics scanning every curve and point of his face, the singular crinkle upon his shirt collar, miniscule crumbs from breakfast, traces of caffeine upon the lips where he lingered a second too long before turning to the relaxed shoulders, slow breaths, general lack of the tension he sometimes detected when others were present. The corners of Connor’s lips quirked with a curious smile.

❛❛  For example, you didn’t sleep enough last night. I estimate four hours, perhaps a little less.  ❜❜

Still, in that smile there was a glimmer of all-too-organic concern.

// I personally say lu-see-oh because of how it sounds in french? Not sure if it helps XD

Ignis felt searing pain from his eyes as he finally crashed along the floor. The only reason he felt relief as due to Ardyn leaving. His feet feel heavy as he takes a step forward in the direction he knows Noctis was in. His shaky balance causing him to grasp onto the destroyed archway along his path.

He tries to steady himself, taking a deep breath as he stumbles forward. A splash of water catches his attention as his head snaps in the direction in question. “Who is there?” His heart pounds-- he couldn’t fight any longer.

“Ma! I’m going out for groceries. You need anything?”

The young man shuffled into a pair of shoes, getting a quick look out the window to then put on a jacket. It didn’t appear to be too chilly yet, but he’s been nagged by his parent many times enough to know when to put on a jacket. He’d rather avoid a charade if he can help it.

“Ma? Did you hear me?” he called out again, walking through the hall before he peeked into the living room. No one appeared to be in there.

This was the mark of possession, of one who has succumbed to the ethereal abroad. To planes and places beyond mortal understanding, that were sensed and taken. His spirit had been taken into the depths of Pitioss, guided by an understand intangible and faraway in its paranormal ecstasy. He is in the form of a spirit, and not. He is there, and there not. 

Pitioss is dark, and the goddess of death that slumbered in his breast stirs to awaken and rattle the Dawn’s chains. Etro reaches through him, and she yearns. For her beloved dawn, for them to be united and whole once more.

For it was why the Oracle was there at all.

Non-Sexual acts of dominance

[ stare ]  your muse staring mine down .

____________________________

Nimble fingers played somewhat nervously with the barrel of the firearm he had recently acquired by… stealing it from an unsuspecting man. Of course, he left a note that presented him his most sincere apologies, but in this world, he needed to at least look remotely normal. While he was still being stared at by bystanders due to the fact he was never wearing any shoes completely went over his head. Still, now, he had a ‘’normal’’ weapon to defend himself with in case of a potential attack against his person.

‘‘How useless.’‘

Joseph murmured to himself as he checked it over and finally managed to open the barrel of the gun and let the bullets fall out. He won’t be needing these, anyways. The bullets clattered with a metallic choir as they bounced upon the asphalt and as he followed one with his gaze, his eyes landed on shoes that were perhaps a tad bit closer than he would want them to be.

Slowly rising his head, he tipped his chin up and blinked up with a blasé’d expression at the man before him.

‘‘May I be of assistance?’‘

He inquired as he cocked his brow up at him, feeling somewhat uncomfortable under the constant, unblinking stare of the man that towered over him. Did he… know him? Somehow, he felt familiar.

He squirmed in place, licking his lips out of habit more than nervousness, really.

‘‘…Hello?’‘

Magic wasn't unheard of. Some humans,  those with blood lines tenuously connected to royalty would emit a low humm of sorts, a calling card to the crystal and powers that be.

Those who worked for the king, the kinglaive who leeched off his power like parasites gave a similar aura, borrowed and tainted, but enough for Ardyn to notice within close radius.

This man before him, shoeless and holding a weapon in broad daylight, emitted the sensation of magic to which Ardyn had not felt outside of his own immediate blood line.

"Potentially. That depends. To what do I owe the pleasure?"