#risendeads

MINKYU’S  GAZE  WAS  THE  KIND  THAT  REVEALED  HE  WAS  MERELY  CATALOGING  DETAILS  RATHER  THAN  PASSING  JUDGEMENT  ON  THEM.  The  cigarette  balanced  between  their  fingers,  the  hesitation,  the  slight  flinch  they  tried  to  conceal  the  moment  he  spoke.  In  those  moments  when  people  tried  to  hide  themselves,  they  revealed  more  of  who  they  were  than  they  ever  did  intentionally,  which  he  learned  already  as  a  kid.  The  bar  itself  was  loud  enough  to  blur  conversations  into  a  mere  murmur,  while  somewhere  behind  them,  glasses  clinked  and  old  music  crackled  from  weary  speakers.  And  still,  the  space  immediately  surrounding  their  barstools  felt  somehow  strangely  detached  from  the  rest  of  the  scene. Minkyu  let  out  a  low  hum,  the  corner  of  his  mouth  lifting  ever  so  slightly.  ❛  Not  particularly.  ❜  His  dark  eyes  (  that  were  only  like  that  due  to  eye  contacts  )  swept  across  the  room  once  more,  gliding  over  faces  that  seemed  familiar  in  the  way  strangers  often  do  in  places  like  this.  Men  and  women  pretending  not  to  know  one  another,  pretending  not  to  notice  the  bloodstains  hidden  beneath  expensive  watches  and  polished  shoes. 

Everyone  here  was  lying  in  some  way.  Himself  included.  ❛  I  don’t  know  anyone  but  I  know  of  some  of  these  people,  you  know..  rumors..  articles..but  for  me,  that’s  a  completely  different  matter,  ❜  he  explained.  Far  too  rarely  did  he  find  himself  in  bars  like  this,  bars  where  criminals  found  their  meeting  grounds  because  no  one  asked  questions.  Not  that  anyone  ever  wanted  to.

viremont headquarters lived in a twenty-floor skyscraper downtown with dark marble floors, gold in-laid accents, dimmed lights, and modern art minimally displayed. several pairs of sentinels lined the halls at different checkpoints, and as soon as he stepped off the elevator, a set assigned themselves to his rear. two males, armed in enforcement attire and modified assault rifles, faces covered with tinted visors, kept ten paces behind. auguste ignored them as much as he ignored his own breath, approaching a moderately sized seating area next to the reception. there were a few guests there, but his eyes set on a rather. . .tiny individual, @risendeads. celine was certainly messing with him.

"There a story behind tha' scar of yers? If ya feel like sharin', tha' is. Feel free t'tell me t'fuck off if yer not comfortable talkin' about it."

Tomoko doesn't mind talking about her own scars, viewing them as a good source of stories from fights she enjoyed, or being lucky enough to survive things she probably had no business walking away from. To her though, it doesn't take away from Sheol's looks, making them memorable enough in her mind. Though, she can imagine they wouldn't take a nickname like Scarface too well.

An audible sigh burst through her lips as cool waves splashed over her feet, followed by a delighted giggle. ❛ Sheol, come on in! The water's so nice! ❜

Injury Prompts || Accepting! @risendeads

Tomoko sits as the other stitches a wound at her side closed. It was mostly a grazing blow by a knife, nothing she really worried about, still, Sheol's help is welcome. She doesn't give any outward reaction to the other's work, why would she? This is a bit of an old thing for her. She looks over at the other, watching as they seem rather comfortable about this.

"Hm, used t'patchin' folks up?"

first meeting sentence prompts [accepting] [x]

Robin blinked at the other, a faint tilt to her head, the corner of her mouth twitching into a small, almost shy smile. "It's not strange. Go ahead," she spoke softly, voice low and careful, like she was treading over fragile glass.

Before either could speak again, the guardian shifted slightly, leaning just enough so Sheol could step close. Her broad shoulder offered a solid, quiet anchor, and she kept her gaze forward, not prying, not judging—just present.

"You’re safe here," she murmured, the words more to herself than her companion, almost a reminder that even someone like her could hold space for another. Her fingers flexed once against the hilt of her blade, restless, but she didn’t move away.

"Take your moment. Catch your breath. I’ve got you. But we have to get moving soon, okay?"