#rhpsdys

"Oh, it's you."

Were Raine not already fully inside the building, Adrian probably would have slammed the door in their face. As it stands, however, all he can do is put on his nastiest grimace and sound as annoyed as possible in the hopes that they'll get the hint and beat it without kicking him even more when he's been down for longer than he was ever up.

"I have to say, I'm not impressed. That's a terrible look on you."

Adrian knows he looks even worse. Without his earring to supply him with a steady boost to his natural abilities, he can't facilitate a constant glamour about himself to appear more groomed---and after the disaster that was the Day of Unity, there's nobody alive who will sell him a concealment stone.

It's nothing that couldn't be fixed with some proper care, but Adrian struggles to find a reason to wake up in the morning, let alone take care of his appearance to that degree. So, stubble and imperfect hair it is.

she breathes a laugh, near disbelief. "i should say the same. most of these things i've never said out loud to anyone before. it's strange. where i live, i can't talk with anyone like that. but it helps, i think. so... thank you."

in the current state of things, she isn't sure anymore what she would do without it, without the discovery of this tucked-away little sanctuary. what she's always done, she supposes: simply survive. but now there's more to her life than function. something's changing. she blinks.

The chill of Manhattan in autumn doesn’t bother Kate anymore, though she shivers involuntarily as she steps out of the front door of the Coraggioso anyways. Keith and his brithers keep it warm enough in there that it’s almost inevitable to feel some kind of chill in the colder months, unpleasant or otherwise. Perhaps it’s because of that sensation, or perhaps it’s just lingering contentment from her shift entertaining the jazz hall’s patrons... whichever one distracted her, it did so well, and she honestly hadn’t noticed the figure near the entrance for the first few seconds after leaving the building.

Haha. It’s a good thing they don’t give off the impression of someone hoping to ambush the first unlucky soul to step out the door, but ... I suppose they’re just lucky it was me who saw them hanging around instead of Keith or Berga. 

“Pardon me,” Kate calls, a calm and polite bid for attention. In a situation like this, it probably would be better to treat someone lurking like this as a threat automatically---even if this wasn’t a mafia-owned establishment, that would be true. However, Kate’s lived this far through trusting others, and her judgement of character isn’t so terrible that she’d continue to give someone trust after they continued acting suspicious. “I was just wondering... Is there a reason you’re out here? You don’t look like the sort of person who would have business with the Gandors.”

                the Angels are known for the choir of trumpets they are destined to call forth the rapture with , the angels gifted the spellbinding blessing of music to mortal men to try and capture what they image the end times would be in a melodious crash of noise / wind , but over time the toils of understanding strings and reed, the unworthy became worthy to recite holy harmonies and even string together a language that was secretive to only those who were prized / cherished enough to learn the octaves of bass / treble. But not many found the time to devote to understanding the angel’s whispers, so they waded their time elsewhere, in other skills and traits , but a righteous few devoted themselves to the cords , and with understanding befell wisdom of the time before written word . The bards were blessed by the faceless victors of heaven , and it made your heart swell at the idea of one day joining the ranks of the coven of histories , to retell stories of the wise and great with the silver tongues kissed into patient mouths by the Seraphims .

                    You sit , patient and quiet as you study your histories , till you could recite word for word the fabricated truth that the titan deemed ‘ correct  ’ but here in the library , correct was upside-down, wrong was the way to go. You’re a golden guard, so a clarinet is not what your hands should wield. Your hands hold callouses from a staff , but with the scars and precision that is blessed to your trembling digits , you aren’t afraid to hold the delicate wooden instrument in hidden palms , staring over it in wonder.

            your eyes glint to befall the coven head , as if questioning their motives in this moment , but you cant hide the shimmering light that rolls forth like a early tide crested by the rising sun. You can read almost what this gift is , just as the three wisemen gifted to Jesus items of great wealth , the songbird you were watching from your gilded cage to learn how to fly has done the same . 

             “    is.. is  this mine  ?   ”

King isn’t sure how to respond initially; he didn’t know that Raine knew about his whole... being-a-Titan thing, because Eda had insisted that they keep it a secret between the five of them, just to be safe. But he supposed it made sense that she had gone and mentioned it to Raine; someone she obviously held in high regard, both verbal and written ( some sappy things may have been said in her diary! )

He never doubted Eda’s opinion of them, but King was learning that her praises definitely held water from this interaction alone. In a time when everything was so uncertain, in both himself and the world, Raine’s offer meant an awful lot.