#scrrface

kenji reminded them often , tacking on , 'mom just wanted me to give you that refresher , y'know , in case ...' they would bend to it , do what they had to , put their head down —- the same ethic they approached their studies and research to , a dutiful drone for the hive's queen bee . they followed him wordlessly whenever he showed up outside of their apartment or just outside of the path they took home from the university they had just spent sixteen of their waking hours at , aware that they had no choice but to . which is why they were there , in a booth , boxed in by two imposing figures , one of which they knew the name of , bound to by blood , and the other they didn't care to learn anything about , bound to by threat , not even made by him . this was the first time they met him and eyes didn't even glance towards him , set instead unfocused elsewhere as they had slid into their spot and listened as absentmindedly as they could .

'did you get that ?' was asked with enough force that sheol had to blink and look towards their brother . a short hum was given as a response , vague enough to suggest they didn't care , loud enough to answer that they did , in fact , get it . they had to be perched somewhere , a weapon they were too good at handling for their own comfort , concealed , at the ready , until a signal was given , just in case things went awry . they might need to squeeze the trigger until life is taken or they might just sit there for a while without moving . sheol hated it . they hated this more than anything , having to develop stomach that wasn't squeamish mostly meant dissociating . but they've developed more of a bite than they were exhibiting before due to constantly feeling like they were cornered , eyes on their back at all times , kenji playing babysitter most of the time .

✩‧₊˚  .     ❪  STARTER FOR : @scrrface

working   with   jace   requires   following   three   simple   rules.   the   first   is   to   be   honest.   about   opinions,   about   obstacles   —   about   all   of   the   unseemly   harsh   truths   and   blatant   realities.   honesty   is   the   best   policy   on   the   team,   and   it   is   of   particular   need   in   the   realm   of   smoke   and   mirrors.   next,   you   should   be   discreet.   this   second   rule   implies   that   privacy   is   of   the   utmost   importance.   if   you   are   to   retain   honesty,   vulnerability   with   your   team,   then   discretion   of   both   sorts   (decision   making,   understated   silence)   should   be   exercised   in   order   to   maximize   the   most   optimal   team   environment.   thirdly,   but   not   unimportantly   :   be   kind.   one's   reputation   is   likely   to   precede   them   in   this   field.   jace's   most   certainly   does.   and   those   who   are   a   part   of   jace's   team,   should   undeniably   —   astonishingly   —   mirror   a   spitting   image   of   the   star's   character.   honest,   kind,   and   virtuous.   the   rule   book   is   uncomplicated;   the   steps   are   elementary   enough   for   even   the   most   unruly   of   children   to   conceptualize.   however,   the   most   significant   aspect   of   the   rule   book   is   one   of   annotated   subtext.   in   ridiculously   tiny   printed   font,   just   before   you   sign   your   signature   on   the   devil's   bottom   line,   lies   the   hidden   fourth   rule.   ¹ the   first   three   rules   are   bullshit.   and   any   pitiful   person   who   intends   to   abide   by   them   with   a   real   sense   of   congruence,   is   sure   to   see   a   brief   shelf-life   in   this   industry.   a   lesson   learned   from   jace   himself.   

but,   his   publicist   does   not   describe   the   fine   print   of   the   position   while   guiding   the   new   guard   along   the   bright   and   sterile   hallway   of   the   record   label's   building.   instead,   she   goes   on   an   emphasized   rant   about   how   the   most   important   thing   in   the   role   is   protection.   she   says   a   lot,   but   refuses   to   look   up   from   her   iphone   in   order   to   do   so.   ❝   just   think   of   it   like   this,   ❞   the   woman   turns   on   her   heels   to   offer   an   insider   smile,      ❝   it's   like   a   museum.   jace   is   an   asset.   ❞   the   comment   is   rhetorical.   she   knocks   on   the   tall   mahogany   door   in   front   of   them,   perhaps   harder   than   necessary,   muttering   thoughts   of   annoyance   beneath   her   breath,   though   they   cease   when   access   is   granted.   the   room   inside   is   perhaps   surprisingly   large,   obviously   designed   as   a   board   room   of   sorts.   the   walls   are   lined   with   the   angels   of   legends.   on   one   side,   records   dipped   in   gold,   plaques   hanging   proud   and   high.   on   the   other,   original   warhols   staring   assuredly.   and   at   the   center   of   it   all   :   jace,   unphased   by   the   opening   door.   he's   surrounded   by   stacks   of   plastic-cased   CD's,   but   only   a   stack   of   ten   remain   unsigned.   the   speed   of   his   signature   reflects   clearly   in   the   dark   tint   of   his   sunglasses.   

a  subtle  breeze  sweeps softly  across  the  sky  and  the  skin.  but  this  breeze,  though  it  belongs  to  the  spring,  is  not  subtle.  rather  is  it  a  wind  that  brushes  brazenly  across  the  land,  blades  of  grass  to  bow,  and  athy's  curls  begin  to  float  along  with  the  force.  the  inconvenience  of  it  all  brews  a  begrudging  noise  in  her  throat.  miffed  by  both  the  sky  and  her  strands,  she  uses  a  newly  freed  hand  (  previously  possessed  by  a  cigarette  which  now  graces  the  ground  )  to  tie  the  tresses  back  into  an  unruly  thing,  supposedly  a  ponytail.  a  heeled  boot  beats  out  what  remains  of  the  heated  flame,  and  athalia  is  free  at  last  to  use  her  new  frame  of  sight  to  take  in  the  building  before  her.  the  place's  traditional  structure  is  juxtaposed  to  the  modern  surroundings  of  its  city,  certainly  a  sight  to  behold.  pretty,  she  thinks,  though  not  to  escape  too  far  into  her  thoughts.  she  was  here,  after  all,  on  a  very  particular  mission.  by  observation  and  word  of  mouth,  she'd  identified  that  this  was  a  place  frequented  by  both  the  human  and  the  supernatural  alike.  a  rare  and  peculiar  place,  in  that  way.  she  isn't  one  for  surrounding  herself  with  other  vampires.  they  are,  for  a  lack  of  better  words,  draining.  draining  color,  draining  individuality  —  humanity.  community  among  them,  she  decided,  was  of  zero  use  to  her.  yet,  if  the  path  led  to  the  only  one  she  so  needed  to  encounter,  it  was  here  that  she  needed  to  be.  gogung it  is  !

the  atmosphere  upon  entry  mirrors  a  step  or  three  back  in  time.  its  walls  are  ornate;  its  music  is  somewhat  celestial  —  and  the  mumblings  of  those  inside  are  somehow  both  low  and  loud.  a  communal  place  to  be  sure.  athalia,  however,  has  little  earthly  community  with  which  to  attend.  although  she  tends  to  many  in  her  small  neighborhood,  privacy  remains  of  the  utmost  importance.    in  addition  she  finds  few  reasons  to  tie  herself  to  others  so  distinctly.  they'll  certainly  soon  be  lost.  anyways,  her  solitude  leads  her  easily  to  a  seat  at  the  bar.  stuck  to  her  side  profile  are  the  viscous  eyes  of  an  elderly  man  to  whom  she  returns  an  unimpressed  glare  that  acts  like  river  water  to  the  resin  of  trees.  his  flustered  reaction  nearly  pulls  from  her  the  type  of  laughter  that  she's  learned  to  bite  back.  but  insufficient  time  for  the  trivial  remains;  the  wind chimes  just  outside  whisper  it  so,  the  faint  and  profound  voice  of  the  conjured  made  clear.  there's  a  figure  in  particularly  fancy  attire  who  appears  behind  the  divide  —  a  spiffy  bartender  if  she's  ever  seen  one  in  her many  lives,  and  the  murmurs  cease  in  order  to  imply  a  detailed  command  of  attention.  a  quick  glance  at  the  beds  of  her  nails  show  the  shift  from  a  shimmering  silver  to  ash  gray.  her  ancestors  had  forged  the  path  here.  and  it  had  something  to  do  with  this  particular  figure.  though  he  has  yet  to  pay  her  mind.  and  she  knows  quite  well  from  how  he  is  clothed,  that  he  isn't  a  bartender  at  all.

what the hell is he doing ? honestly , he’s not even sure if he knows any more . last night had been a blur for the blue haired boy , and all he’s been thinking about this morning is the feel of the tall stranger’s chest under his palm , and the look in his eyes as they stood mere millimetres away from one another . sitting at the reception desk doing admin work has him reminiscing of being perched on top of the light wood , and he swears he can still feel the other man’s hands either side of his thighs . 

it’s that thought that had him fishing around for the box he uses to keep his spare earrings in , sighing as he catches a glimpse of the pikachu printed on top as he tips out the contents onto his bed . ( he maintains the lunchbox was just the right size and on sale at the time , and he definitely didn’t buy it because he thought it was cute ) . once the lunchbox is empty , kaiser fills it with whatever he can find in his fridge — which , to be honest , isn’t a lot . an orange , a chocolate bar , a yoghurt , and a sandwich he’d managed to make using the last two slices of bread and the thinnest slice of ham you’ve ever seen.

There’s HEAVY GUILT on suited shoulders , perfect tailored frame as hands nervously play with buttons of shirt––––– perfume he’d used this morning still loosely hanging on his clothes and this time it wasn’t DEATH nor BLOOD though metaphorically speaking , WHAT ELSE were his hands good for then to do ‘his’ job BEST ? Tony has BARELY stepped into familiar surrounding as broken voice echoes through otherwise silent room and for a moment he is dumbfounded ; frozen in his movement before he closes the door and takes a few steps further inside––– spotting jaeson finally sat on his couch . He cannot hide the heavy sigh that has been building up , tension in the air seems to suffocate him and it truly does take him a few seconds until he’s BRAVE enough to continue walking towards the other until he’s close enough to see jaeson’s face . PAIN IS SO SHARP ;  tony already feels like he’s bleeding out , before he slowly sits down on the edge of the coffee table placed in front of the couch . How POWERFUL does silence feel––– the longer he lets it spread , the more does he feel like choking , difficult to meet other’s gaze as he softly lays hand down on the table , head bend down as if he was ASHAMED  ( something RARELY occurring ) .  It’s as if little game of russian roulette is about to kill tony , kill whatever they had between each other , something criminal male held so tightly onto , LETTING IT GO would mean to BREAK HIS SOUL .

Lips are a thin line as he presses them together , obviously , tony is upset as eyes search for something to fixate .   “   you know how all of this works .   “  he’s so TIRED of it all but nothing on earth would actually MOVE him to change him in his ways , as pragmatic as he is though chest is rising and falling heavily , trying to SWALLOW truly unexpected  (  was it REALLY ?  ) reaction he’s been welcomed with this time .  Why was it so DIFFICULT for tony to face the inevitable ? Had he really thought other would have just silently accepted whatever changes happened in his life ? YOU’RE A FUCKING IDIOT TONY .    “  i just didn’t wanted to upset you with this . you know there is nothing i can do . “   voice is soft as he tries his best , apologetic demeanour truly looking PATHETIC on himself .    “      ignore it .     “   it’s barely a whisper , most certainly the dumbest thing to say in this situation ,  though that is what you got with tony ;  he was as cold as could be spirited .

jaeson tensed the moment tony approached him, his brows knitted in displeasure. the tension was thick and not even a knife could slice through – it was as though every second that passed by mattered, what he said mattered and what tony said would all come into play in the few minutes, determining their relationship. he took in a deep breath, unable to stop the eye roll as the other spoke. “i do, fucking hell, tony. i know how well all these things fucking work. i was okay with us being a secret, i didn’t make a big deal when there were stupid rumours because i trusted you.” that’s when he snapped, gaze burning holes into the other as he frowned. “ignore it? you want me to ignore the fact that you’re getting married? are you out of your mind?” jaeson scoffed as he looked at his lover like he was some kind of psycho.

Aurora hadn’t intentionally gotten out looking for a good time, but it always seemed to find her first. Her work had luckily given her the opportunity to travel all around the world and found herself in a casino with a drink in one hand and watching the crowd with little interest. As any given night, she was approached by multiple men all hoping to score with the model, as they should’ve -- Aurora was sitting by herself practically asking for the attention with the way she sat and would give little looks so the people around her, only to refuse with a hard tone and a few poor choice of words. 

“Fuck off,” she said to one unimportant man that didn’t seem to get the message the first time. “Not interested,” she repeated, and intentionally turned in her seat to give the man her back. It only turned her to the only man in her past week of travel that seemed remotely interesting enough to grab her attention. 

The posture was the first thing she noticed. A confidence stand, a reason for actually existing and not some wannabe looking to blend in. The next were the expensive choice of clothing. The fine fabrics that held up well after dozens of wear -- Aurora usually leaned towards silks for their quality for the same reason. The last give away were the number of other men surrounding this particular stranger to which Aurora could only assume he must’ve held some authority in the casino. Her guess? Security guards protecting the owner. 

Aurora left her half finished drink right on the counter as she set her intentions on getting this man focusing on her. Her purse was neatly tucked into her arm and she stood, briefly messing with blonde strands of hair, and walking straight towards him. She struck him with intrigued gaze and turned at the smallest angle so she brushed right past him. Not without speaking, first.

“Hey,” she said, the one word so casual, but using her tone with such an allure she hoped would stick with him for the rest of the night. 

“ did you just━━ ” it was completely unnecessary, but also giving him shivers down his spine he really wished of being unable to feel because it was really, really shameful to find two guys fighting over him even remotely hot ━looking at one of the people he’s been having as a client ( no strings attached, he promised himself, clients are there for his body and his body alone, they don’t care for the rest ) having his knuckles meeting the face of this other guy having an interest in him. and he wouldn’t lie he’d actually love to avoid having to deal with that one ━felt quite icky against his skin. he moved only after that state of shock had passed, reaching for the other to move him away from the knocked out figure nearby the stairs. “ no no, stop, he’s passed out, please there’s no more need━ ! ”