#synapticnetdive

beelzemonblastmode: Also I think it's funny that the highest scores so far are the two who are functionally immortal like Vince

outofcharacter:

"I love you so much, Tera. This is intend to be a happy piece, or at least a rather scifi piece for you but... I seem to have fell shot on both ends. Anyhow, it's the intention that counts, right? Smile, dearly. You have a great smile like your muse."

ask-reeve submitted:

It was the time of year again. After last year’s semi-debacle, Reeve was not drinking which meant his nerves were slightly more on edge. Still, if having those public-speaking butterflies meant actually being able to deliver a speech without slurring or acting like a fool (Leviathan, he was still so angry with himself that he did not reign it in sooner) then so be it.

In truth, he sometimes found it easier to talk to large groups than to a group of people he knows more intimately, but then these W.R.O. occasions - unfortunately for the Commissioner - had a mixture of both. He shook his head and exhaled deeply. Shalua was around here somewhere with Rufus and Vincent he had last seen quietly poised in the corner. Better to get these things over and done with.

Another duty performed, and speech given, Reeve stepped off the steps and scanned the horizon. He wanted a drink, just one. He wanted to disappear into the corner somewhere and have a pleasant one-to-one conversation or even a debate. The latter was a speciality of his soldier and scientist but with her attentions elsewhere, hazel eyes dropped guiltily away from her back in search of Vincent. The gunman was not normally the most talkative but merely being in his presence was quite enough for Reeve. He certainly felt the need for a piece of quietude with another whom he trusted.

Which was why it somewhat came as a shock to see Vincent removed from his usual watchful position in the corner, instead out and out milling around the employees of the W.R.O.  Reeve crossed his arms and, following a check to see no one was after his attention (mostly drunk, mostly dancing – good) returned his look curiously at the other man.

Was Vincent actively flirting?

A small chuckle arose in his chest. Well, well, this really was something unexpected. Leaning back on the bar he gave a brief smile at the bartender and ordered a scotch whisky. Bringing his drink to the front of him, the apparently sociable Vincent Valentine once again received his rapt – if slightly puzzled – attention.

It was that time of year again. Suit on, and suit off; cape on, and cape off; somewhere along the way, the demand for survival as imposed by W.R.O.’s environment had insisted that the first evolved and the former be neglected, resulting instead in a form clad entirely in smart black tux where only some contrast were to be noted in a pair of Bordeaux irises and similar shaded ribbon. Burgundy’s velvet sheen emphasized perfectly its contrast in luxious charcoal tresses where fleshy silk were to meet their match in one men’s woven – an import from Wutai and a gift from a friend – and came to be gathered at the back of nape. Toward lean thigh, midnight valour recklessly fell.

Naught a trace of gold was to be found for tonight, saving for the perhaps, one bubbly drink secured lightly in midnight grip. Back at the lab, with an assistance from Shalua Rui, an adequate storage had been found for most my armours and usual garb, leaving me with only one Ruger LCP .380 and a CRKT Hissatsu or which were hidden carried and despite being of the same models I once employed, were not those I used during my employment with Shin-Ra, nor personally customized. These, were only recently purchased, and something have to be done later.

Understandably, it became one of the reasons as to why the aloof specter who usually stood poise, secluded within his own sanctuary and concealed by W.R.O’s vast chamber’s umbra, where he may make a spectacle of all the transgression and exchanging commodities however he may, had instead found himself sharing another Rui sister’s company. With both feet just bracing apart, nearly to the breadth of shoulder where equanimity was to be observed in tactful stance and uplifting chin as upon much smaller form sanguine gaze rest its focus, attentive, meanwhile, making certain that their owner’s conversation was kept private and undisturbed, using himself in semblance of a fleshy shield, it was nearly an image of a knight abiding by his young charge.

The privacy was, nonetheless, considered a necessity due to the topic of our discussion. Technological advancement had certainly changed many things, including what feat prior regarded as impossible. Possibilities were to be explored and who’s best to help me if not her or her sister. Nonetheless, with the majority of Shalua Rui’s time now having to be divided among her works, her sister, and the recently established relationship with Rufus Shinra – at this, claret irises were briefly stolen toward Reeve Tuesti, and an assertion later made that the brunet’s speech was to be finished anytime soon – it had arrived to be that what prior existed as an awkward relationship between two former enemies had developed into something else, and it was for the Transparent’s assistance I requested, particularly, on what integration might conceivably be possible between Gaia’s life force and my own firearms’ ammunition.

Intense were certainly the arguments. So what if, partially prompted by both the burning elixir in invaginate grip and the topic of discussion, this man might have sufficiently lost himself? At least, the familiarity – perhaps it was something of the Transparent’s tone, or the manner both brows might be drawn just lightly together, or the way in which her arguments were pursued – was enough to prompt taller form to relax himself, or maybe, a small remark to occasionally be uttered accompanied by a wry smirk of which greater look of contemplation may be prompted, playing across her heart-shaped face. It was something to be noted, and sometime later, when this man possessed the ability to think more clearly, for him to berate himself on how possibly he could have forgotten that it was with Shelke Rui he was conversing, and not the mirage of someone else.

Yet, lost to our conversation, I was not entirely. Thus, when came sensing a pair of eyes on my back, it was with a minor degree canting of neck while enshrouding in another torrent of logic from Shelke Rui that the W.R.O. Commissioner’s gaze was to be met. Briefly was the crash of bistre and rich ochre, yet in that spanning seconds, something was to be revealed – soft and silence, akin to solitary grain of sand slowly shifted from its place.

A smile. Small, it was. Brief, it was. With a hinting note of apology, it was. It was still a smile and by such aristocratic facade was soften. For a mere moment, it lingered before carmine’s attention was to be averted back toward my currently engaged companion.

"Suppression of the demonstration?" Bemused, the ravenette appeared to be toward the particular assigned task.

There are far more proficient ways to get this done.