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 Posted: Mon Jan 17, 2022 10:37 am
A brown welcome mat. A gray door. Four stories up. Mid city. Apartment number 134. Only accessible by stairs, elevator, or the roof access. Upscale, modern, trimmed in and out in cool tones.
Every piece in the place like something out of an ikea article.
A one bedroom, open floor plan that flowed into a living space, a kitchenette, endless clean lines — personal touch’s that screamed ‘I love my profession’ - like the decor’d been done by someone who’d read a motivational article or two on ‘social success’ and ‘What if your boss sees your bathroom!’ and decorated accordingly after the fact.
Syrus was ever so rarely surprised — and yet? He thought maybe it showed. So he smothered it. Like closing a storage yard door — begged entry instead to the pair of people standing, dead of night, outside his door.
The one he knew. The other?
A picture frame thin, angular, teen. Young adult? Ambiguity encased in layers that made it look to him as though the boy was going to war with the cold - and would take down all of nature himself if he could.
And Waru. Absolute idiot wearing a megawatt grin. A glint of something other in his eyes that made Syrus feel entirely the fool. Except Syrus did not play the ******** fool, ever.
So.
“Tea? Mr…I’m sorry, Waru’s a compendium of pet names for people. How should I call you?” perfectly polite qualities laid over a dry, icy, tone.
Syrus had to bite his tongue to keep the word ‘sir’ out of his mouth. Reminded himself this was not a job interview, no. This was a farce, a prank — a — way to make him question everything he knew. About himself - about Waru.
Except Waru would make no better a kingpin than he would a prostitute — he had the brains for neither. A bodyguard at best, for the boy. Who he’d called *Boss*, like a title, not an insult. Who he gravitated about like a small moon.
*Like a shark.*
Syrus simply wasn’t sure yet, whose blood it was in the water.
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Posted: Tue Jan 18, 2022 11:57 am
Eion had never met Syrus. He knew how he read, however: aspiring young adult, in law school, chasing a profession that would score him atrocious quantities of money at the expense of other people's well-being. His would be the profession of judgment, and who better to pronounce over their enemies? Who better to set to climbing ranks, earning favors, making allies, and wielding evidence and critical analysis against their foes' heedless thinking?
As he stepped into the space, Eion said nothing. His host bid them in, and he cast his glance about, taking in the signs and scruples of the boy that inhabited the space — or, the space that inhabited the boy.
His apartment was a model one. Built to show nothing of the person inside; it may as well be vacant. An Ikea catalogue cut out from the magazine and pasted into Home and Garden, then curated in People. Made to please all in its drabness. Meant to conceal. This was someone with something to hide, and by the dossier, Eion supposed that his something to hide was himself.
Because ideas often made it farther than people.
There were chairs, of course. A kitchenette kept a thousand times better than Waru's, even sporting a table and chairs. But Eion made for the countertops, turned, and hoisted himself upon one. Crossed his legs at the ankles. Kicked them restlessly. Held onto the lip of the counter with fingers that so badly wanted to speak. Then he watched the blonde boy who so easily cast his subordinate into the dirt, and nodded at the offer of tea.
He waited a beat, then spoke conversationally. "Syrus Schryer, how much do you value human life?"
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Posted: Tue Jan 18, 2022 10:04 pm
A brief pause, for how his question was left blowing in the wind. Unanswered. For how the child — *young man* — took a seat atop his clean counter space like his a** had recently paid rent.
Wanted the tea on offer, while asking for answers to existential quandaries. Syrus decided he was dealing with a Sphinx; poured over the riddle while he set a favored rose-gold copper matted black kettle, fresh water full, to boil.
Looked to Waru, concealed a snarl - thinned his smile. For how he’d made himself right at home. Settled table-side, propped himself up, and had the gall to look some cross of lovesick and longing while casting glances between them..
Syrus was some sort of stunned, for how he’d never seen Waru so..pleased with being silent. Entranced and chewing on a good time; judging by the way his bottom lip lay caught against a canine.
Absolute b*****d.
Probably enjoyed seeing him off balance. Which…*fine*…he could perform. Would answer honest and put on a show for the ‘Boss’ even if he felt like the butt of a joke for it. Nothing to be done until after. When he could wring Warus neck for stringing him along.
“Are we talking individuals, or the species as whole?” rhetorical, shrewd, gave them both his back and side as he pulled cups and small saucers free from a cabinet with a trundle and rack for such things.
Gave it a spin, pulled three sets, bonepowder white, matching silver trim, vine embroidery etching the sides.
“According to Dunbar, we can only make and maintain around 150 relevant social connections. Which means anyone who claims to love everyone in the ‘whole wide world’, is a liar.” there were limits to empathy, to feelings, like a drained battery. Only so much value that could be placed on one of many — did he care for a select few ants above the rest? Did he elevate them above the whole, and why, and how and for what beneficial reasoning was it done.
Placing value upon a life — human - cat - dog - mammal…
“That’s not to say I disvalue human life entirely. I simply value my own self interests more, and those who help me achieve my goals? I think that’s logical. Don’t you? To place higher marks on people who can mean something to you….and the rest….” brief raised shrug, while he worked around the boy kicking freely atop his space. Clinging there.
Left him where he sat, set places, pulled boxes with fragrant bags free —- Waru got ginger and chai, some powdered packet mix with an expiry stamp and little else - a brand of nature’s guru, unsweetened.
Wondered what the boss would like — spiced, sweet, flowery.
“The rest can kindly ******** off and die.” Slow slide of a cold gaze, as he offered two different tins for the black haired youth to chose from, watched the coal eyes set into sharp features.
Offered earth that smelled of cardamom in one hand, something light and rose laced in the other.
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Posted: Fri Feb 04, 2022 7:32 am
Promising. This one was learned, self-absorbed, and disinclined to be so empathetic. Good. That meant he was useful, easy to motivate, straightforward to read. Eion would not be burdened with sifting through Syrus's personal life to locate the things that spurred him to action.
He remained on the counter, feet kicking back and forth. "It's Eion," he answered belatedly. He thought Syrus earned that much.
His attention wove between the two tea tins. Could smell one from where he sat — it overpowered the other. Leaning closer, he checked both, chose the cardamom tin. So he had tea; either he was an avid drinker himself, or Waru told Syrus what to expect out of Eion's preferences. Might've dropped Eion's name, too, or kept calling him Firebrand.
Not that Eion minded that terribly.
"How's your skepticism. Is the world as it appears, or is there more to it than that?" He watched the pretty blonde carefully.
There were agents, he knew, who struggled with the fantastic. They disbelieved magic, and were disinclined to trust in it. These ones, and especially the senshi, were first to suffer losses. Took hard knocks to get them to accept their magical boons, to trust in teleportation, to call their toy weapons to hand and learn to fight with something so asinine. For senshi, it was spurring them to use something they considered a waste of energy, or unpredictable, or dangerous to themselves.
Easier if Eion didn't need to have that conversation. Easier if Waru didn't either. He looked to his subordinate, then, knowingly — he wondered what Waru thought of this whole thing.
If Waru thought at all.
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Posted: Fri Feb 04, 2022 4:14 pm
“You know Eion. If you’d asked me that same question three years ago, two?” it felt better to have a name to put to the face. To layer lay lines of thought along ideas of 'who' and 'what' Eion was as a person. He made a network. Like some mental corkboard with pins and red strings. Pulled apart connections labeled control, cautious, *liked cardamom tea* - Slapped Waru's fat grinning face in the center of it all and let it tangle like the worlds worst cats cradle.
Syurs took the tin and hummed over his work, buried within it a sigh. Pulled little tin balls from a drawer with chain, with bulky bee clips on the end. Late Christmas gift from the oaf that lounged, cheshire at tableside, and watched their workings. Tea-Bees, hive stirrers, honeycomb holders for special sweeteners -- A glass cup that was an actual head of a bear; grinning sweetly, crystal clear. A cacophony of little hidden things that'd come from others who wanted to annoy him.
Except that was a lie.
It was because Waru cared that he got him stupid knic-knacks and baubles. Simple creature that picked out a singular thing and focused on it endlessly. Teased Syrus for how he liked his tea hot in counterpart to having his house empty and cold. Brought him tins, because before? Syrus had been lazy and used packets - instant things - Waru liked to share himself endlessly, and it was easier to give in than fight the tide. To find the right way to do the things the hulking man-child spoke of; properly, of course. Because if he'd let Waru have his way? He'd never have clean counters again. Unacceptable. Better to bend in that one easy way to his friends whims, than to suffer the messy consequences.
Speaking of --- “You must understand. Waru is one of the least subtle men I’ve ever known. In stature, stride, in damn near everything — and yet?”
Eion's choice of brew ended up encapsulated, clasped tightly, clipped and dangled in the cup of scalding water Syrus poured from the kettle; choosing to snag it off the heat just before the whistle blew - left it to steep while he spoke. “He manages things…feats…that should very well be beyond his abilities. If that’s not something outside this world? Then I don’t know what is.”
He wondered how much Waru mixed his company and his pleasure. If his ‘boss’ knew all of his business. Was entrenched in the day to day minutiae whittled down to fine bone details…
If Eion cared at all. If they were --- All the ways Waru spoke of a firebrand; who’s hair wasn’t even red and had the stature of a twelve year old paired with the dangerous calm that made him think of. Oh, all sorts of things. Eion wasn’t likely to be a serial killer, but there was still something about his presence that put the hairs at the back of his neck on end. Though for Syrus, that also could’ve been the void of information. He very much disliked not knowing things.
Gave Waru his cup first, for how the instant steamed. Tucked a little spoon with it and plucked packets of ready creamer from a cupboard bowl. Coldstone vanilla, didn't chide his friend for the strangeness of adding even more sweetener to something that needed none.
Sniped a question the man's way, with raised brow, while passing. “Is anyone else in on this. Does Lina know?” words exchanged as quickly as a fencers jab, deftly handled, and twisted in such a way that one could almost see the point where Waru shifted for it, bled. Squared his shoulders and smiled like he wanted to make Syrus hurt in turn.
Enjoyed himself even while his beloved friend pet his nerves against the grain.
“Nuh-uh Sy. She stays out of this.” Warus words hedged easygoing while he played with his tea. Though there was a clear note of finality to it. Like Syrus had touched a nerve edged along some unseen line.
So he let it drop.
Acted as though the words had never been uttered and went about his business with Warus ‘boss’. Cup and brew equally got a spoon, darkened over seconds, minutes, and Syrus left the chained ball to soak - was sure the boy could pull it out and let it clink along the china to rest messy whenever he desired. Let it be softly drunk -- or strong enough to be bitter and night undrinkable.
He didn't really care.
"I don't know if that answers your question Eion. If you have something more specific in mind that may test ones skepticism? I'll not throw salt over my shoulder. No more than I'll shrink at whatever sorts of things people believe lay beyond. I'm open minded and gifted with the ability to think."
For whatever that was worth.
Syrus tended to himself last, like a good host should've. Pulled out one such bear laden with mesquite honey, preferred it over the orange blossom, over the ones with notes of honeysuckle or pomegranate flavorings. Poured himself a generous amount to stir in. Before offering it easy over to Eion.
Counter-side gremlin that he'd simply have to accept as part of his home.
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Posted: Fri Feb 04, 2022 5:20 pm
When Syrus answered, Eion shifted his attention to Waru. Could only imagine what feats the boy was attempting that wowed Syrus so. Impossible things. He wondered — did Syrus know that Waru was Albite, without all the context therein? No, he doubted as much; if Syrus was half as stupid as he seemed, he'd have figured out a little more magic to the boy. If he wasn't at all stupid, he'd have concealed that fact, and never agreed to a meeting like this.
If he was twice as stupid, he'd play along, pleasant as the thick, golden globs of honey in his tea, until it was too late to say anything but yes.
Eion received his tea with a nod. He'd looked at the clock when Syrus started his pour; it wouldn't be much longer until his cup had finished brewing. He sat it beside him on its saucer, and the glass clinked delectably while the pair skirted y each other. Waru still looked to be in a good mode, but showed just a margin of tension. Boy always carried his tension across his back.
"Not asking you to be stupid about it." Time had ticked down; Eion removed the ball of tea from the amber fluid. Stray bits of loose leaf floated in it — a reason he seldom kept the little strainers, and preferred the kind that sat over the lip of the cup — but he could filter it with his teeth.
He took a sip and flinched when he found it so terribly hot. Rankled at the feeling of a burnt tongue, how it felt rough and dead against the roof of his mouth. Setting the cup down, Eion slipped off the counter.
Thought to himself that Syrus had best get the third question right. Thought it because a heat blister opened and split across Eion's wrist, exposing black underneath. Pieces of him charred and sloughed off as he began shirking his coats, unwrapping his scarves. Whole swaths of skin — ribbons of it, feet long — wended to the floor where they charred black and scattered into ash. His hair, once coal through and through, grew crucible bright at the ends. His eyes darkened wholly to black before the fire in him was exposed, and his gaze grew characteristically bright.
Soon, even the ash dissolved, leaving no more sign of Eion. The Youma General took up his teacup, sampled it, and found the temperature much more to his liking now. He almost smiled for it.
He still disliked the strainer.
"Last question, Syrus." The flamecraft thing turned to him, walked up to him, stared up at him. "If you could have unbelievable power, but the cost was murder, would you make the trade?"
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Posted: Fri Feb 04, 2022 7:18 pm
Waru could skance hold himself back. Nearly snorted scalding chai and choked for it. Smothered the drips of that which sprayed over his lips into his wrist; wiped it off on the sleeve of his arm like a filthy heathen dog of a thing. Cleaned his slobbering smile and laughed, full force, for the look on Syru's face.
Cracked ice - a shattered pond that reflected soo much ******** fire. Beautiful. Waru thought it was, the most lovely thing.
Hell, he was tempted to sidle up behind Faustite. To steal him into a kiss until his fool skin burnt off into a crisp; until he floated away into so much ash and char. ********, did he love him. For all of that, for the show and the unexpected way he'd burst into being as himself. Beast-born of fire, Waru's favorite way to see him -- the most familiar ways he knew his boy.
He applauded it. "Oh, way to show off firebrand. I fully ******** approve. Go on, Sy? Tell him all the wishes n' s**t you want granted, see what it gets you."
"He's.....actually on fire?! Literally----and---ohmygod. Waru." the thin veneer of gracious, unflappable host went up like ice in a flashpan, skitter-seared, screamed as it sizzled. Syrus had to clutch the counter behind him til his knuckles whited across the bone. Till the feeling in his fingers went pins and needles almost all at once, with how tight his grip on the edge of the surface was.
All thoughts of tea and sweet honey on his tongue long forgotten.
So much steam, because there was a fire standing in his kitchen like he owned it. Owned him. Well, that was a ******** thing which was happening, wasn't it? No helping it. No back-peddling. No staring like some slack jawed simpleton. It was ever so hard to unclench, pull himself together while he raked long fingers through his hair. Stared. Meanly at Waru, and Eion - with awe - layers of questions unasked -- and then even more awe.
He nearly asked if it was real, except he could feel the pulse of heat. Could imagine the air shimmering with it as the walking bonfire turned his kitchen bright and warm enough to sweat under. Could see it reflected like pinpricks of hellish embers in the mans eyes. In his -- ribbed cage that was rather delicate for how it held such a curious inferno.
It was amazing. It was terrible. Waru? Was an absolute a*****e for not telling him beforehand. He was going to strangle the man with his own bare hands in a second --- just long enough to....
Except he already knew Waru could smile like the world was joy, lungful's of air to suck on, or no. b*****d.
"It'd save me asking him, I suppose, if I could manage things myself." Syrus cleared his throat over the cracked rasp. Pressed his frown to hide behind his fist, and then? When that ultimately failed. Let it all go and decided to drink tea; because <********>, it might be the last drink he ever had.
"My position...or, more precisely? The one I someday seek to gain. Precludes me to the sentencing of others. Deaths marked up cleanly in black and white. Words on pages, before juries, judges, and standees arguing trials of books written on the moral code of ones soul...ethics. Laws made for men who are sometimes barely that. That aid both monster and saint; because justice is blind." he sighed rough over his own musing. Words hissed while his eyes tracked back and forth between - one man - one fire - settled on sipped still, before he could trust the cup to remain still. Before he could trust his own thoughts and fingers to tremble less.
"Except I find that the world is very unlike a book. It's full of colors, full of grays. As long as I get more than just 'unbelievable power' out of..this..." blood on the pages like so much ink, like staccato typing of a stenographer after the hundreth video conference with men standing in lines, seated on stark wooden benches, in rooms full of trappings that screamed 'power'; but felt like theater. Like power at play instead of at work.
Was it so different? Did blood on his conscience differ from blood on his hands? If that were a play at pretend too. Ruining people's lives in petty fashions; because a book dating back to a time when donkeys were barred from bathtubs was a thing one could once have been shot ******** it all. Did it matter if he didn't actually care at all, one way or another? Did he have to bother to pretend with this one?
"...it doesn't seem like so bad a trade."
The look he gave Eion was confident yet resigned. Reigned in for how it caught and lingered on every fleck of fabric and glint of metal Faustites body held. Like he was trying to memorize it one final time. Every little side glance cast Waru's way -- almost as if he could've mentally shamed the man into using such a literal nickname for someone he boasted as one 'lover' amongst many. Above all of that, all those other thoughts? Firebrand now existed as Eion, and Eion now existed as a 'Man on Fire'.
Unless there was another name.
Syrus felt the whole of the world come undone before his eyes as easily as the mans flesh, coat, organs that weren't there. Ashen slough that existed in little more than particles -- <********, hell.
He needed something far stronger than tea for all of this.
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Posted: Fri Feb 04, 2022 7:38 pm
"Look at you, believing in the unbelievable." Smiled something violent for it, sarcasm threaded through to pull the corners of his mouth taut. Could've said something worse, something scalding, something scathing, but he left that behind for the moment.
Someone newly brought in wouldn't have memories to lose. Better that he saved face through this affair, especially if Cyrus was to join them. He'd be Waru's direct subordinate, and still under Faustite's purview. Though he entertained the thought of giving this one over to Ana, perhaps Waru too, for how lonely she'd gotten.
Thoughts for another time.
This one had a habit of running its mouth like Waru did. Either they shared a trait, or he picked it up from the boy. Shame, that. Faustite had half a mind to cut him off, violate his bodily autonomy, and commit him to the Negaverse for daring to speak out of turn.
"You're not in a position to bargain, Syrus. Choice has been made for you. Needed to know that you were worth more than the weight of your soul, that's all.
"Now set the cup down and grit your teeth." He'd give no more preamble than that; his hand darted for the blonde boy's chest, darted through it, past the ribs, past the blood and bone and petty little organs. Past what was real, into what was not. Nailed fingers curled around the multifaceted gem there, caught hold, and drew from the bandwidth he shared with Metallia. Thick rivulets of black, negative energy, shot in jolts down his arm into the space where there wasn't a space.
It wasn't hard to turn someone, he knew. He'd felt it before — the process took scant seconds, and then a new agent was born.
He'd felt it before, but this was different. This starseed, it was more resistant. More reticent. And he could shatter it, but —
"Oh, ******** me twice," he snarled as he wrenched his hand from the boy's chest. Then he laughed.
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Posted: Fri Feb 04, 2022 8:15 pm
"Ohkay....what the ******** was that?" Faustite was laughing, but Syrus was still -- himself. Looked caught enough between hurt and panicked that Waru stood. Pulled on Albite, like power could bank the fires he stepped towards and languished around like a moth. Stood just close enough to catch -- one of them, the other. It didn't quite stick with him what exactly was going on.
Last time this'd been done on him...he'd needed....
But Syrus ********, couldn't be.
Just.
He couldn't.
"Firebrand?"
There was no ******** way. Albite tried to bank his smile for all of Faustites cursing; but something about the cracked n cindered laughter was infectious. He couldn't keep it at bay.
He felt for Syrus, really, truly. He was also all sorts of happy though. It was a win in all ways for him. For all that he'd expected a lieutenant to pop forth --- like Lionel...Cela...
N what did he get instead? A pain in Faustites a**. He ******** loved it. Wondered which and who they'd end up going to. Which General King, Queen? What sort of favor they'd beg. From Haymitch?
From...
"Awwh, Firebrand. Lookit you, getting lucky all the damned time."
It was instinct, to back up, away. To hit the counter and hear the china and cup smash into a pool of liquid and fine glass across the floor. The rattle of chipped pieces which became suddenly dull. Distant.
No wordse to grin and bear it could've prepared him for this. No explanation given beforehand would've granted him understanding for the impossible thing he was seeing before him.
Black choal and fire in his chest. Clawed hand gripping around his -- ugly sickening pulse that nearly took his knees. He heard his blood pulse in his ears -- heard the chips of broken things skitter -- heard nothing at all. Then Syrus found he could suddenly breath again. Sucked air and clutched at porcelain like a freshly born lamb.
Sight filtered first, then sounds ---<******** him never, the actual -
"b*****d!" Spat, at Waru, at Eion, at - who the ******** ever. "What the actual fresh hell. Waru. Eion - One of you." He craved explanations and understanding where he had none. Understood very clearly, by Eions demeanor. By his taking -- that it wasn't likely to be granted, but still.
It didn't keep Syrus from pressing his hand over the hole that wasn't. Tasting -- the strangest residual of crossed wires and copper. Wondered if he'd bitten his tongue. If he'd go to some average doctors apointment next time and find 'Oops all your organs are gone! Gifts to the psychotic friend you ******** and his beloved fire god!'
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Posted: Sat Feb 05, 2022 12:32 pm
"You. Cool it. You're not dead yet." Sharp glance up to Syrus, and then —
"And you. Get your communicator. Call a Sovereign. Let them know we've a senshi we're bringing in. Your deal, your choice." He wrenched his hand out from behind Syrus's breastbone and scrutinized the thing, as if attempting to indoctrinate a senshi could leave behind a residue. He wiped it on his vest regardless.
And then started up his characteristic pacing. "Tell you what's going to happen before Albite gets it wrong. Won a favor from me, and his favor was to grant you power. It's painful, volatile, and second to none. Granted by pain and torture to your soul, which is there, by the way," he added, tapping the center of Syrus's chest with a sharp nail as he walked by. "But someone like me can only mint new agents.
"And you — you're something else. Something more like him. Born under a starsign of latent power. Need someone stronger than me to awaken you to what's yours."
He wound around the table to where Waru had been sitting, and shifted himself up atop the thing. Set his feet upon the seat of the chair where Waru had sat, and looked at Albite expectantly. "If you call Axinite, I'm going to ******** barbecue you," he pointed out. Feed him to all his subordinates, too. It'd be the fate Albite deserved, nosing into affairs in which he didn't belong.shinigamisgirl laurels, hess, or lepi~ faustite works for the second, hasn't met the third, and barely controls himself around the first!
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Posted: Sat Feb 05, 2022 7:53 pm
Albites mouth opened - shut - formed the silent letters to spell *A x i n i t e* in a mimicry of the name he very badly wanted to say aloud. Faustite knew him too damn well, though. Could've probably seen him waver while he wrangled the com's pen into a tablet from outta sub space.
It was fine though, he'd let it be. Faustites business was his own. He wouldn't meddle in the afairs of grown-a** men when he was sure they could work their own s**t out -- whatever that s**t might've been.
He scrolled through the list -- through the workings -- pulled up the one General Queen sovereign he hadn't had the pleasure of meeting in person yet.
"Hell on Heels Hessonite it is. S'much as I love Laurels...." he wondered if she'd be busy and her kinda busy? Albite didn't wanna interfere in. "Also, Lepidolite has -- his hands, Sy. <********> I don't wanna give you a heart attack though. N' Hess might be a little more your speed."
Waru had the gall to look pleased. Even when faced with the cold as ice on a moonless night glare he got from his friend. Threw Sy a wink. Dialed hessonite in.
A text - simple words - Quote: 'Sup General Hessonite, u up? We've got a fresh as driven snow Senshi to bring in who needs your, special attention. Please, thank you, and I owe you one! Sincerely - Albite + Faustite.'
Albite added on sigils and glyphs that spelled 'friendship is magic'. Like the most smiley of hearts that he could've tagged on.
He hoped Hessonite was in a good mood. He hoped Syrus would understand him, once he showed him everything on offer. A whole world that could'a been laid out at his feet -- all his wants ripe for the picking. He'd apologize later...after...mabye?
Syrus stood, glaring, on the sharp borderline between feeling appalled at being spoken to like --- an overly dramatic meal --- and being deeply concerned for his fate.
He grit his teeth tightly over the litany of obscenities' that wanted to spill fourth, listened instead. Tracked the bonfires footsteps like any errant ember or spatter of smoke would catch his place ablaze. Paid attention to -- all the little keys-notes that he might've wanted in writing.
He was in it now; because ******** Waruhiu had set him up when he'd strung him along into 'applying for a position of great prestige'. The thing that'd attracted him most though? Had apparently been the Fiery half man before him. The way Waru had explained 'fierbrand', in waves of devotion and intrigue. In ways that felt like Waru was happy, had power - if not wealth - had means to an end that'd come to him from nowhere all at once.
Syrus would've been a liar to say he hadn't wanted that.
Even as he looked to the behemoth beside him, spider-worked with dreads that sprawled his floor. Assigned 'Albite' to that -- to 'Waru' - ********, really? He would've never in his wildest dreams identified The Senshi as The Man, if not for that ridiculous grin. Hallmark calling card that settled some jangled part of his nerves at ease.
If Waru was smiling, even if it was at his own expense, even if the b*****d had a hole in his chest and his head!? He was smiling. So, it couldn't have been that bad. He'd survived it, after all, had a way in and seemed none the less hale and hardy on his end.
It'd be fine....It'd -- "Thank you, for telling me all the minutiae he lapsed over so carelessly." scrubbed a hand over his chest once more, over the sharp nails p***k, over the ache that pervaded to his core. Then dropped them to his sides, and tried to pull on something like 'readiness'.
"I would just like to say.....being whatever 'he' is, which apparently entitles me to the sort of trials that will be worth a great deal? That if I somehow die in my own fantastical remaking. I want you to bury his a** with me...or beat him for being so ******** vauge when he asked for my resume. Either will do."
Sarcasm and sass that fell like winters chill, because Waru had apparently won him in a godamned bet!? Fine, whatever, it was all okay. Even if Syrus shivered with his nerves, and swallowed any other thoughts that didn't pertain to ---
Was Waru wearing a bra?
Well....
That was something nice enough to look at to be properly distracted for at least.
The Space Cauldron For future happenings - oop - I forgot to send a pm for this earlier, lel!
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Posted: Thu Feb 10, 2022 6:48 pm
Faustite shot Albite a scathing look as he prattled on about the General Sovereigns. It wasn't for his insolence — he'd never met Lepidolite, barely met Hessonite, and wasn't familiar enough with the Queen to assign her a nickname, even in casual conversation. In that regard, he could envy Albite; he wished he could speak of his superiors so freely. He scathed for the amount of ******** time this boy wasted with his worthless ******** words, however.
Better, then, that Albite was sending a text instead of calling Hessonite personally.
Crossed the room to snatch Albite by the wrist for all they were discussing a change of venue, and paused on taking up Syrus's arm by words alone. Smiled for it, the thought of taking Celadonite's himbo boss down and putting him in the ground, for all the ways Albite earned himself a grave by now. "Doable," he answered curtly. Caught up the boy's arm thereafter.
For as stuffy as this one came off, they could get along on the endless conversation point that was Albite. Both thought a burial would be good for him, and doubtless Axinite knew he deserved it.
Where Axinite's office was a thought, Hessonite's took a margin longer for him to landscape mentally. Had to draw together how her desk fit with her chairs, how the room laid, how the light filtered across all her minutiae. It was only when he could visualize the office in full that the trio vanished on an instant inbound trip to the Citadel's loftier chambers.
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Posted: Fri Feb 11, 2022 3:37 pm
Hessonite detested paperwork, and did her best to foster it off on Axinite when she could, which was more often than one would think. The text that came from Albite made her raise her eyebrows in confusion for a moment then give a small laugh, a thrill of excitement coursing through her at the chance to bring over yet another member of order. At least that was what she was expecting with the text message. The senshi was freshly awakened, or perhaps hadn’t awakened quite yet. Regardless, she had a camera ready with a full SD card just in case. She was just about to teleport to the scene when the three arrived in her office instead. It was a little jarring to have people suddenly in her office without any warning; she wondered if Faustite had picked up the habit from Axinite's 'open door' policy. But, Special Operatives was different. If she'd been dealing with a traitor and suddenly had an audience... Well. She could talk to him about that later. Not in front of a new recruit. She had to admit she was just a little bit put out that the senshi would have to be awakened, but honestly, that did save a whole can of worms regarding memories and the like. Ah, what a lucky guy he was. “Albite, you have a very strange way of texting but I do appreciate anything that gets me out of doing my paperwork, though.” Her eyes slid to Faustite and Hessonite raised a brow. “I’m surprised it wasn’t you who sent the message, though I suppose you’re just working to instill a better sense of responsibility in your subordinate.” Little subordinate was the phrase she had wanted to use, but it truly didn’t work in this case. “And now for the star of tonight’s show, what’s your name, Mr. Freshly Fallen Snowman?”
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Posted: Fri Feb 11, 2022 5:53 pm
Albite beamed down at Faustite, turned that look on Hess as he slid his wrist free of the over-warm, clawed grip. Albite couldn't help but look, respectfully, over the office and it's main super-star occupant. He was ever-so inclined to nod in Hessonites direction, bravado topped with an almost leer.
He was genuinely happy to see her. All thumbs up and big affectionate grins, he liked the praise, especially when he felt it was well earned. Plus? Any girl who wanted outta paperwork? Was ******** phenomenal by his standards.
Lookit how responsible he was! Sending text-mail on his boss's behalf and bringing in his friends to join the party - war - whatever. If his boy Syrus looked stunned as a fish freshly shocked in a barrel? Albite attempted to alleviate that, gave Sy's shoulder a squeeze, and then a rough shove. Mouthed 'go-on', with whispered fondness.
Like he had enough knowledge of the people in the room to trust them implicitly. He did. Trust them, at least. He trusted that Faustite would honor his bet enough to make sure they both got outta the whole thing alive, and was all fired up to see Hessonite in action, even if he didn't know her that well.
She was just so cool!! Honestly? How could he not have chosen her to do the deed!
*Hot-hot-hot!* - and he hadn't quite noticed it at first. Now though? Felt the heat through cloth, pan fresh from the oven, took in a breath, ready to protest or squirm -- found that he didn't have to do either when Albite shunted him forwards with a hearty clap over his shoulder.
'Such an a*****e.'
He shot his friend a glare and then, far more subdued, levered something like an apologetic look between -- Faustite -- and Hessonite, apparently? There was something menacing about the woman before him. Maybe it was all the red and gold trim? The glint that made him wonder if this'd been well planned, or if Albite ran every world he existed in like a rollercoaster that'd run out of track.
Haywire, too fast, without warning -- off a ******** cliff.
"Syrus Schryer. It is, an unexpected pleasure to be here. I think." without something in his hands, he hardly knew what to do with them. Found them crossed over his ribs, tucked his fingers into the crux of an elbow each. Lest he give albite a piece of his mind in the shape of twin birds.
Ohgod, he hoped the concept of being some untrodden snowbank didn't stick.
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Posted: Mon Feb 14, 2022 4:11 am
"Mm." Faustite looked all about the office as if trying to double-check himself. "That, and the tablets melt when I hold them." Reasons he delegated that task to Headache, but Headache wasn't necessarily trustworthy around a senshi and prey. Or, Syrus, whatever he called himself.
He didn't want to add that Albite didn't know what responsibility was, didn't know how to spell it, and was likely allergic to it. He shifted, fire dancing in his gut as he walked about to the other side of Syrus.
Better that the attention was split between Albite, the Distraction, and Syrus, the soon-to-be Senshi. If Albite was so livened to the idea, then he naturally pulled attention to himself — which meant Faustite could watch from a fair distance, could wait near the door on the slim chance that Syrus tried to escape and Hessonite felt like letting him. Maybe Hessonite would invite Albite in on the fun — let him see what it was like to corrupt someone himself. Had he known her any better, Faustite would have suggested it.
Instead, he stayed quiet. Watched Albite and Syrus ******** with each other, watched the way Albite's hand so easily engulfed Syrus's shoulder. Wondered what the story was between them.
"Syrus is pre-law. Has a few other qualities conducive to our line of work. Motivated, obedient, diligent," he ticked off each quality on a finger. "Albite suggested him."
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