#yinkali

» send me a kink and ill rate it.

The normality of the day is what first lulls him into security.

His neighbor is watering the plants on the other side of the fence, the three bright blue birds he always sees coming home are perched in tree branch, and his newspaper is waiting for him at the mat of his door. Chanyeol fishes out his keys from his pocket, sliding his house keys into the slot of knob, and that's when he notices.

The pot of plants have been moved, and the curtains at the side windows have been drawn. He breathes in once, turning the knob and the door opens easily. It had been unlocked. 

Carefully, he pushes it open without making a sound, his free hand reaching at the back of his pants to pull out his gun. He enters his home with careful steps, resting all his things over the floor before closing the door behind him. His eyes raise to the side and he notices his home security had been turned off and unplugged. It's not a burglar. 

Chanyeol can only think of one room that could be of importance to anyone who knows of his military rank and he quickly makes his way around the corner, but is stopped short at the man lounging by his hallway. Immediately, he raises his gun, eyes squinting to try to recognize the face. 

( yinkali )

The ticking of the clock gets really annoying after a while.

2 AM. Another sleepless night— although Sora couldn't really ever afford sleep, anyway. Not when she had work to do, let alone when she failed a task— and, boy, this time around, she fucked up real bad. 

Sometimes it's not really a big deal, because you've got clients who aren't anything special so you can just slither away, head still very much in order, and that's that, no harm done. 

...And then, there's those people who are going to slit your throat because you failed to retrieve the needed info or failed to complete the task. Which was reasonable, really, in this line of work... that is, Sora considered it reasonable until she got the short end of stick. Maybe this time she bit off more than she could chew. No, not maybe— most definitely. If she was the only one mixed up in this whole thing, then worming her way out of it might have been easier... She'd bat her eyelashes, act coy, apologize and that'd be that. ...But no, she just had to be involved with him. 

3 AM. What was the point of staying in bed? All she did was beat herself up over the miserable job she'd done— or, rather, she didn't do at all. Because she failed. Failure. Failure. Failure. The word kept flashing behind her eyelids, like a huge neon sign. Not even an ice cold shower helped her shake off the looming (and very irritating) feeling of impending disaster. 

4 AM. The streets were dead. Funny, really, because she felt as though that mirrored both her current appearance and state of mind at the moment. The clacking of her heels felt intrusive because everything was so fucking quiet. Too quiet. And she never really liked silence. It made her feel exposed, insecure. She wondered why and how some people found solace in silence. 

4:30 AM. The building towered over her, it felt menacing and sinister and she suddenly felt like she shouldn't be here. As she approached the door, she threw anxious glances over her shoulder, as if hoping someone might come and save her. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. Don't do it. But  as she tried to open the door, it just doesn't budge. Right. Can't go in alone.

A sigh. She turned around— and she immediately regretted coming here in the first place. The silhouette standing in front of her was just barely illuminated by the street light but she could still see his features clearly. If looks could kill, she'd be dead ten times over. 

She was brave enough to open her mouth and speak. But she didn't really feel brave, she just felt stupid. Stupid and scared. 

Because even if everyone strives to fulfill their insatiable greed, nobody is fond of staining their hands. Thus the graced and the privileged send the unfortunate to carry out their deeds. They don’t enjoy doing so, but they learn to live with it. Chaos or law, evil or virtuous, all drowning in the same pit, all carry the same cross.

Forcing any bit of information from sealed lips was never as simple. Whether it be out of fear, blind loyalty or just mere reluctance, complications were expected of course. But this, this was ridiculous.

Silence was his weapon just as it was Cassius´s agony. After the past excruciating hours enclosed in the same room, he had come to that conclusion. Any question aimed to the man went unanswered until the words dissipated into the same perpetual stillness. He had tried almost every mean possible in his hands, at least those that wouldn't get him killed. Fingers tapped in annoyance against his temple.  He was dealing with time bomb, wasn't he? The lack of hesitance in his actions, the calculating expression, it gave it away , taking the life of the other would be but another mundane task. Eyes lined the veins along his own skin before sighing in defeat.

Is that of importance now?

A hardened grip that doesn’t let go, instead nails carve, shape crescents into her pallid skin, though not forcefully enough to draw blood (though possibly a bruise). He can hear her very well, but ignorance is bliss at this point. If there’s something he loathes, is people trying to talk their way out of situations, when he’s caught them red-handed. Whatever she had been doing, Akali doesn’t appreciate people sneaking around where they’re not supposed to. This is the case here, why he has hes pressed against a wall; excluding an explanation of his actions rather than to show her that it’s serious to be wandering around here at this hour. Is it worry or is it anger he feels— over seeing the female with such silent steps (not silent enough), move around every so carefully? He doesn’t know, doesn’t bother to find out either. Instead, an intense look is given upon her face, as finally letting go of the small, delicate little wrist he had gotten a hold of. Maybe he had been holding onto alittle too hard, seeing the swollen marks on her. Though he isn’t one to make for an apology, the itching obligation to say something of value at least— lingers. "You’re not supposed to be here, unless you’re lookin’ to be killed." He tells, in a low and calm voice, still holding her against the wall just in case she causes ruckus, gets the idea of starting to scream or in general; being too loud, making his ears bleed. He won’t risk having the rest of the crew coming out to see him trying to quiet down a panicking woman. Hopefully, she’ll be sensible. After all, in Akali’s mind it’s her fault for coming to these blocks, thinking she can so easily just search through every corner and inch. Standing watch tonight had been a good idea, it seems, since everyone else is too oblivious to listen or see everything properly. "Scream, and the rest will come too. I recommend you keep your mouth shut." A robotic way of speaking, because it’s all too much to explain. As long as he can get her to be silent, everyone can go to bed peacefully in the morning.

She hisses in pain at the male’s hard grip, and the rather whiny words escape her throat before she can even think to hold them back, because she was caught unprepared. She’s as good as invisible when she doesn’t want to be seen, usually. It’s not magic (although it could just as easily be), instead, the way the Dalish moved – silent and subtle and hidden, so that they wouldn’t disturb the animals of their forests. Certainly, she’s grown careless with her time spent among humans: she’s lost her edge, and it’s obvious, by how embarrassingly easy it was for him to capture her. And with that, he’s blocked her attacks entirely – because she’s too shaken by the suddenness of his apparition to be able to cast any spell. It’s the only rule she follows when doing magic: never make any attempts while not in control of your emotions. Things always go wrong that way.

When he lets go of her hand, she glares up to the male, another quiet, cat-like hiss leaving her lips – now that her hands are free, she considers reaching for the daggers in her boots, carving a pretty pattern on that smug face of his. But she doesn’t dare. It’s not because he’s towering over her, no. But he’s already taken her by surprise once, and she doesn’t want to underestimate him again.

His cheek nearly pressed against the cold wall, it was freezing but that didn't stop him from going out. Initially planning to get himself some instant noodles-- something he lived on for at least 5 days of the week. He had gotten totally distracted on the way back, after passing some dark alley, he noticed a dark shadow from the corners of his eyes. Just that, was enough to make him stop his tracks and shuffle behind the wall.

The conversation didn't make much sense to him, it was mostly just some blabbering of which most words were way beyond his vocabulary. But, the tone in their voices was what kept him interested. The way they spoke, so secretly hidden somewhere, it was enough of a sign that whatever the conversation was about, it was important to someone. No one hides without an actual reason.