@threebreaths | PLOTTED STARTER.

       The apartment was dimply lit and quiet that evening, just as Zane preferred it to be. It was pleasantly spacious and cool inside, despite the warm climate of Los Angeles — or more so, in spite of it. In nearly every direction one looked, there was at least one potted plant of some kind, even in the kitchen window far above the sink, where Zane stood.

       He'd made a haphazard dinner for himself after coming home so late from a job. It was there, cleaning the pan he'd used, when he felt an unfamiliar presence somewhere far behind him. It sent a burst of panic and rage through him — who the fuck had the audacity to break into his apartment, especially given that the entire complex was owned by his clan?

       Zane continued to clean the pan, pretending as though he hadn't noticed .... and his eyes drifted to the dish basin to his left, where he spotted a steak knife. He reached for it casually, as if all he was doing was rinsing it off, and he waited until his uninvited guest was close enough to reach. Then, gripping the knife tightly, Zane whirled, jabbing his elbow backward in hopes of landing a blow to the face.

The troubled and twisted are drawn to him, or he to them. Cain and Isen might even share an understanding of what it means to be forced into cruel responsibility, molded into weapons. A certain degree of wisdom comes with that, inevitably. And maybe that is what makes this man so intriguing; no matter how ill Cain judges his doings. He will no longer take a mortal's life unless necessary. The answer he reaps prompts an upturn of brows, leaves him impressed because why only view the final end a face of death?

" Only someone who has died a little would say that ", he muses, not averting his eyes from the panorama window afore which he stands. It grants a quite imposing view of the brewing thunderstorm. " Metaphors. I was referring to the end. I suppose those who desire immortality are the same people who know... " The deliberate pause is bridged with a deep intake of breath. " That nothing but anguish awaits them in the afterlife. "

╰┈➤ @threebreaths - give peyton attention!!!

“Your gift is too powerful to waste. I can help you make it something stronger, something better. Nobody would dare cross you.”

The escort replied with a soft huffing scoff that spoke of controlled hilarity. They may not have known Isen, personally, but they're well-versed in people to know when one was unsavory. The overall vibes of the man were enough to set alarm bells off on their mind.

A sliver of fear threatened to settle in the escort's gut, the faint instinct of fight or flight tingled. Alas, they've always had a nearly impenetrable poker face. Their jaw tightly set, the clear message of 'fuck off' visible in their body language.

"You really chose to follow up a compliment with an offer," sarcasm laced every word as they stared Isen down. Despite the small flame that was alit in their hand, something within them wanted to simply incinerate the man in front of him. "I thought only movie villains did that. And... quite frankly, I'm a little disappointed that it wasn't more... grander."

"- oh do let me take a guess. marcus has gotten himself into a situation again, hasn't he? "

he was dreadfully tired of cleaning up his brother's messes and yet here he was. taking marcus' call and upon hearing a distinctly unfamiliar voice he could only surmise a handful of options. when it wasn't buying the silences of his numerous partners, it was paying off officials and buying out various 'items' in order to get his notorius sibling out of trouble. it was damn lucky that they had a variety of incomes aside from their generational wealth because at this rate they would be bankrupt at the year's end.

he was very close to just leaving marcus to fend for himself- if he didn't have a heart that was.

unfortunately he dearly loved his little brother.

his last of kin and felt the ire flare up at the fact that he would be once again dragged into rescuing him. so he stood at the balcony of his penthouse overlooking london and held the phone tensely waiting to hear what nonsense his brother had gotten into.

Uncharacteristic as it may be for him to appear later than was agreed on, stranger is Cain's attention seeming to drift in phases. Rendering him absentminded, maybe even unfocused. And naturally, one with a keen eye like Isen catches the grimness unwilling to wane from his face. That question plants realization. Blinking, almost perplexed even, Cain finally shakes his head while tucking his phone away for the felt hundredth time.

" I'm not overly fond of surprises, that's all. " Then he clears his throat, tries to don a more relaxed expression. For however long that might last. " So, where were we? "

"Circumstance and context I'd imagine."

bullying the traumatized

"Oh, I'm already there." Morgan slugged Isen as hard as he could. "I've been there for a while." There wasn't much left in him besides the anger, at this point. It felt like it was a creature consuming him from the inside out. Isen had to know that already. Surely that was his plan, to break Morgan so thoroughly that he could then build him back up as some sort of pet he could use on his whim. And Morgan hated him for it. He hated Isen for keeping him from Yuki, for cutting and burning and breaking him over and over again, for showing him that no matter how much it hurt, he could never actually escape the pain, even in death. Hate and anger. It was all he had left. Well. Maybe not the only thing.

It was supposed to be a simple drop off, in and out with no problems, that’s what Yamamoto was told at the meeting.  He should have asked more questions, like why did they need someone of his skill to drop off a briefcase of information.  While the client didn’t say who he was giving the information to, just that Yamamoto would know once he saw them, he already knew that they had some power to them as soon as he saw the men in suits standing outside the hotel he understood why. 

There was just something about these men that put Yamamoto on edge, while he couldn’t place his finger on what it was, he knew that he shouldn’t let his guard down at any point during this transaction.

“Couldn’t make things easy for me,” he mumbled adjusting the sword that he had strapped on his back, Yamamoto made his way into the hotel.  Inside were a few more men in suits, though none of them stuck out to him as to who the drop off would be.  His grip tight on the briefcase, he took a seat in the far corner of the lobby as he continued to watch the room.