#usagimen

She sighs, knowing her inner rant will prove ultimately fruitless. Her fingers tap impatiently on the table she's been told to wait at while they bring in the 'informant' she's supposed to meet and she wonders if she still has enough time to find a glass of water to parch her throat, when the door opens again and Rebecca sits up straighter.

The woman they escort in, @usagimen, is admittedly not quite what she'd pictured in her head. She'd expected someone like... Hunnigan, whom she spoke to a few times after the whole Arias fiasco. Maybe someone like herself, a little meek looking and unassuming ( not that she'd consider herself meek, but she knows what she looks like alright ). Not... Ada Wong version two point o.

She stood there on the corner of the street, debating on who she should call to come get her, or to even call anyone at all. She turned her head to face the flow of drunk young men stumbling out of bars, she can’t help but notice how there’s conveniently a love hotel tucked between all the host clubs that were scattered throughout the street. Her black fur coat clung to her body almost like it was a shield against the word, one look and it was obvious it was a couple sizes too big for her. Hands fumble in her pockets, looking for that pack of lucky strikes she snatched off a man who had gotten way more handsy with her than he should’ve. The tobacco stick is brought to her lips and quickly lit.

Then she hears it, the sloppily purred coos and half assed compliments slipping from a man’s lips who’s clearly had too much to drink that night. Her head whips around, brows furrowed together tightly with an aggravated expression, ready to let vile spill from her lips to defend herself. But the comments aren’t directed towards her, instead they were for @usagimen who had just stepped out of the hostess club, clearly she worked there.

Noticing how the girl’s face was contorting into uncomfortable expressions, her face blatantly ignored by now two men who were pestering her, a chord deep within Shini’s is struck. She whistles, grabbing the attention of the three of them, inhaling from her cigarette sharply. ❝ Yo! Lil’ sis! ❞ Her tone convincing enough to make it seem like the two knew each other. She walks over quickly, throwing her arm over the girl’s shoulder which welcomed her into the warmth of that dated fur coat.

Where was he now? Renji knows he left his car at Helter Skelter ( Itori had promised it was safe from getting towed, she refused to let him drive knowing it wasn’t the best idea ), he knows he hoped onto a train or two, but where was he now? He catches a whiff, the overwhelming smell of tobacco mixed with marijuana filling his nostril ( his nose was always more sensitive to such things after he drank ), the buzzing noise of music and drunken laughter, the flashing neon lights featuring three x’s straining his eyes.

Why was he here again, in the fourth ward’s red light district? Oh, that’s right, he’s looking for her.

Usual spots are checked, shady underground gambling dens where ghouls hired by the Yakuza ran security, the bars that had peepshows in the basement that you could never talk about anywhere else ( you always had to give them a special code to get tokens after handing a couple thousand yen, why does he know that? He doesn’t like how he knew that ), to the back alley doors that lead into warehouses with cage fights ( he’s spent too much money there than he’d like to admit, hoping for an easy win to afford the rent on his converted shipping container ).

Renji can’t find her. It was always like that, whenever he wanted - no, needed her most, she was nowhere to be found. Wait.

An aroma had made its way through the stink that littered the street, suddenly his senses are perked up. He’s quick on his feet, practicing running like a rabid dog towards it. Eyes fall onto glossy black hair and he practically pounced on the woman. It’s a right embrace, almost suffocating the woman he held in muscular arms. ❝ Let me walk ya home… ❞ Words are soft, gentle, spoken like a desperate plea. But something’s different - no something’s wrong. His neck craned down differently, his chin not resting in its usual place on her head. Renji pulls back, eyes widening in shock and embarrassment, he quickly pushes away from @usagimen and making space between the two.

Kento's been expecting this to happen in one form or another. Whether it be direct contact or skulking shadow, it'd be foolish to exclude her from the list of formidable foes he's collected thus far. Rather, turned against himself in that one act of fury. Not mindless, no ... he'd been all too aware and conscious of each action in those droll office walls.

homie, all you gotta do the shoot me out of a cannon into a concrete wall. honest! okay, okay seriously though, i understand. how about i just appear in your dms to plot? might make interactions 20x easier 🥰

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒘 ❟ 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔. Smoke curled from distant chimneys, and the streets shimmered with rain, slick and black as oil. Distant voices rose and fell, swallowed by the vastness of the night. Saint stood at the balcony’s edge, fingers ghosting over the cold metal railing. Behind him, his companion lingered—a hush of perfume and veiled presence, silent but watching.

𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐓  𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃  𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒  .  .  . 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺: 𝑨 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚.  // @usagimen

For a long time, nothing. Then, his voice, barely above the wind, ❝ It look different up here. Distance makes err’thang softer. ❞ He exhaled, gaze still on the streets. ❝ Even ruin. ❞ He offered little else. A pause. A lull. and then—

❝ ’s get outta here. ❞

@usagimen ⛤ cont.

ALICE, SWEET ALICE. Always a favorite to work and associate with. Pleasant in a way many aren't. Which is why V has jumped down a rabbit hole into Wonderland this time — a respite from YOMI. Though there's no true escape from the Underworld.

The older woman is an ethereal vision; a faerie come to life (Titania made of iridescence, sparkles and chrome). Each time she sees her in the flesh (metaphorically speaking), V's breath hitches for a split second. There's no hesitation as she follows deeper into the sanctum. The mention of her fallen choom rips at her heart, a stinging starting in the corners of her eyes. Yet still the merc manages a pathetic chuckle at the joke. "Yeah well someone had to knock the old bastard down. Viva la revolución." Comes the quip in return. In a way it sucks that credit for the motherfucker's death can't truly be claimed by her nor Jackie. That would have been the most prolific notch in her belt.

"I appreciate the offer. Really I do. And when I...if I..." Survive. That's the word that weighs heavy on her tongue, however; that weight is quadrupled when paired with the word IF. Because there is no guarantee she will live through this. "I'm more than happy to take whatever scraps or work you can give me. God fucking knows I need the cash. But with things right now, probably better for both of us if I don't make commitments."

Doing biz with a walking corpse isn't in anyone's best interest. Or would ticking time bomb be more appropriate?

Swiftly the drink (whiskey because tequila is still too much of a sore reminder) is tossed back in one gulp. The burn claws at her throat, spreads warmth to her ears and cheeks. Alcohol forever is a temporary panacea for the continued suffering in a fucked up world. All of life is suffering, so says Buddhism. What unfair bullshit. The grin that's been attempted to be placed upon glossed lips falls flat — pushed aside in the wake of melancholia. "Life's been dealing me shitty fucking hands since the day I drew breath. But you're right. That heist was cursed from the start. I think even I had a bad feeling about it. Jack though...he had his heart set on doing something big." Big leagues, becoming legends; they succeeded somewhat with the monkey's paw flipping them the big one.

"Do you believe that people's souls can be digitized?"

stormborn iv / accepting

            mouth open to respond before it shuts just as quickly  ,  painted lips twist into a grimace as if she couldn't find it in herself to DENY the claims  .  the other isn't wrong  .  prophecies . . . prophecies are indeed treacherous  ;  if it seems so as an observer  ,  it's even worse for the victim  .  she can find it hardly in herself to console the woman  ,  no consolation could lift the burden set 'pon one's shoulders . . . of course  ,  one could say that no prophecy is SET IN STONE  ,  but is there really a way to avoid what fate has in store for you  ??  

            silence lays heavy  ,  she struggles with words that don't come off distant nor come off too aloof  .  all she can do is suck in a deep breath  ,  and offer a small smile  ,  ❝  they are . . .  ❞  she agrees  ,  eyes focused upon her folded hands as she selects her words with calculated thought  .  saying the wrong thing could only serve in a negative light  ;  yet speaking too calculated could sound FAKE  .  her pondering leads her to decide . . . being honest and true to herself is the only way she can . . . it may come off as false sincerity and come off as her taking it lightheartedly  ,  but she knows she speaks in earnest  .

            ❝  it's treacherous  ,  but you needn't traverse that journey alone . . .  ❞  she offers  ,  releasing her hands from it's intertwined hold and holding her palms up towards sayuri as an offering  ,  ❝  a leap of faith  ,  not blind trust  ,  but a gut feeling . . . to find those that you trust the most  ,  and those who you want on YOUR SIDE . . . to share the burden  ,  ❞  she says  ,  though these words  ,  she wonders if it would mean anything to the woman  .