↳ ruins

　　　↳ ᴇɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴏɴᴇ. ↰

@✠　Lee Youngmi ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 2, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: astronomical - svrcina

Ash sprinkled Ailell’s ink-black hair, but the half-Elf ignored it. Ignored everything that pointed to the inevitable collapse of the roof, really. There was a cocoon of tension wound around them, trapping the two men together until it was broken by death—if not Youngmi’s, then certainly Ailell’s.

Ailell would only allow death to keep him from avenging Lian.

/Crack./

It was the sound of boards breaking, of the distressed house beginning to give in to the stress it was under. Fire and water had weakened the structure, rot had set in and now there were two men going to war within the building; it was only a matter of time before the wood crumbled and one or both of them was crushed beneath the weight.

If it was Ailell’s time, so be it.

Why? Why was this angel so concerned with trying to get Ailell out of the building, when he had the blood of an innocent child on his hands? Was it his way to attempt to repent for his crime? Was it an attempt to appear innocent in the face of Ailell’s anger? Or was he simply that much of a fool?

“I’m not leaving until I have avenged her.” Ailell wasn’t sure if he uttered the words in Spanish or not, if they slipped out in the forbidden tongue of his mother’s people, if they came out in one of the other languages he spoke—but he said them, and he was determined to uphold them. “Her death will not go unpunished, even if I must also pay with my life.”

The angel’s sword clattered to the floor, and then a body collided with Ailell’s, shoving him away. Blood was slick on the curved edge of his axe as the ceiling came down, crushing the angel under wood and sheetrock and the terracotta shingles that collapsed inward to land in the wreckage. Instinct made Ailell twist away, shielding his eyes as dust and ash rained down around him.

Everything was still, until he heard a woman’s voice screaming his name.

Ailell staggered out of the building, coughing into his elbow as he waited for the figure to come through the dust, to come into his range of sight. It was Lilith, one of the girls in Squad 719. He knew from the bright green hair before her face was even clear as she ran to him, grabbing his collar. Disoriented, the elf took a step back, but she followed him.

“Tell me you didn’t kill anyone!”

Ailell looked at the house, and Lilith’s grip loosened as she followed his gaze to the pile of rubble. The blood drained from her face, pallid as she looked up at him in horror—horror that caused a prickle in the half-Elf’s gut, a prickle of sudden concern, something dawning on him that he prayed wasn’t true.

“It wasn’t him,” Lilith whispered, her eyes filled with tears, “Ailell—it wasn’t the angel, she lied to you, she—”

Ailell’s blood ran cold, his stomach dropping out of him as he came to a sudden, unpleasant realization. Colette Reivana’s smile, her false sympathy as she’d told him of the /fate/ Lian had met.

“What did she do to Lian,” Ailell uttered hoarsely—from the dust or the guilt, he couldn’t say which. “What did Colette do to Lian?”

And when Lilith told him, of the horror that Squad 719 had witnessed while Ailell wasn’t present to stop it, to protect Lian as he had already promised he would, the hunter could feel himself splinter and break—he had fallen for Colette’s tricks hook, line and sinker, and he had caused the death of an innocent man when he should have been looking at the in front of him, the woman who he already knew was capable of great cruelty.

He had failed Lian. He had failed to protect her, failed to avenge her, failed to uphold his promise to protect her and had failed to follow his moral code—it dawned on him as he stood in the wreckage of the north side of the city that he had committed an unforgivable transgression.

Mu Lian should have never trusted him.

@☠　Ailell Brier //TW; character death

Hearing such anger would have struck fear into any reasonable soul. Never, in all of his years had he encountered such a rage. Whoever this man was - he was hurt, beyond apology and condolence. That fire was seeking vengeance. This man knew what his goal was. Knew that he wanted to kill, for what had been done. Youngmi had no idea who the girl was, but it was likely he never would.

As the next strike came, the angel drew his blade up again to defend himself. A single cleave with the force behind each blow would surely kill him. Yes, he could heal minor wounds, but something on the scale of bleeding out with his chest carved open was beyond him.

The wood above them cried out once again. It felt as though the house was in its death throes, and as he saw ash sprinkle down delicately to the ground, it seemed strangely out of place. Taking its final breaths before it truly did collapse. One of them was going to die, something in the air told him that. Youngmi could tell that this man had no intention of leaving until he’d reached the goal he’d come for.

The wheezing of breaking boards was much louder when the house finally reached its breaking point. Pushed to its limits by the elements, it couldn’t hope to survive much more. Youngmi’s breath caught when he heard it. Stinging his ears, making his spine run cold.

If you’d have asked him afterwards, he wouldn’t know what to respond with when asked what he’d been thinking. What had driven him to do what he did; act how he acted. This man was his enemy, and rightfully so. “/Please leave we don’t both have to die/.”

It felt like time slowed down as Youngmi moved. He’d always heard stories about that kind of thing. Before their death, the character in a story’s whole life would flash before their eyes; all the mishaps, foolish acts, embarrassing moments. But also the good times, the ones of peace, of family and content. The world seemed to pause around him. It was just him and this broken man.

/You could get out too/.

Could he really though? Upon leaving, he’d get an axe through the back, regardless of whether he stayed as the house tumbled or ran out of it. In his mind, the decision took so much more than a moment to make. In reality, he hadn’t even stopped moving.

Youngmi held the man’s gaze, then, letting akída slide from his grasp, onto the floor with a metallic hum. He was weaponless, but it didn’t matter anymore. The angel’s blood throbbed as he drove his shoulder as hard as possible into the man. If he didn’t keep his balance, he’d merely send both of them over, and neither would be out of harms way. In his foolish act, he hoped to spare one life. It was better to loose one than two. With the force he shoved the man at, Youngmi did not even register the warm blood purpling a previously blue shirt. Maybe it would make his attacker feel better, to know his axe had bitten the angel as the roof came down.

So long as the man was near the entrance, he may only get a plume of ash and dust to deal with. While the creaking got louder, reached its ; screaming its own song as the roof came down. Youngmi’s fingers curled loosely around the hilt of his sword. He’d die with a weapon in hand, and that comforted him.

He was breaking his promise. He’d promised that he wouldn’t die. Not yet. Not now. If he’d seen anyone that morning, known what was fated for him that day... he would have apologised. Bowed his head and spewed spiel after spiel on how much he loved all of them.

The last thing Lee Youngmi looked up to set his eyes upon were those of the grieving man.

Did he deserve this?

The roof came down and Youngmi did not try to escape. Didn’t hold up his hands to shelter himself. Didn’t cry or sob an apology for a crime he had not committed. It was an unceremonious, ugly way to go. But part of the angel didn’t even mind. One less person losing their life.

An oppressing weight followed, and everything turned to white light.

@✠　Lee Youngmi ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 2, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: heartless - the weeknd

Ailell’s laugh was dripping with venom. “Of course you don’t know,” he growled. As though the angel would have cared to know her identity, so long as he could… could what? What reasoning had he even had to kill Lian? Had he known she was a hunter, and not cared that she hadn’t been able to slay any of the creatures she was forced to hunt, alongside Beau and Fang and the others who were in Ailell’s squad? Or had he not even known that much about the innocent girl whose life he had taken?

Was this angel capable of just… killing a human girl, regardless of if she was a hunter or just a citizen?

Did it change anything, if he thought Lian was a mere citizen? It didn’t change the fact that Lian was harmless, that she hadn’t deserved this.

The angel claiming that he hadn’t done anything only incensed Ailell, his grip tightening on his axe, knuckles turning white. “How can you say you’ve done nothing?” he demanded. “How can you say you’ve done nothing when you killed an innocent child—there was no blood on /her/ hands! Why was it her?!”

At the heart of it, that was the question he wanted answered—by the gods, /why/ had it been Lian?

Taking advantage of the angel’s momentary distraction, Ailell struck out again. His weapon was deflected once again, but the force made the angel stumble. Above them, there was yet another creak and groan of damaged, abused wood protesting what it was being subjected to. The half-Elf wasn’t afraid of the outcome if—when—the ceiling fell. Let it; he would gladly die if he could take Mu Lian’s murderer with him. The angel seemed far more alarmed than Ailell was. Good. The hunter was prepared to die for revenge.

“Let it,” Ailell snarled. Let the ceiling cave in, let it crush them both. He wasn’t going to be leaving the building, regardless of the angel’s plea. He shifted his axe in a defensive move to stop the angel’s blade, protecting his side from the attack and retaliating with another strike of his own. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The ceiling could fall, the city could experience another tsunami, more Dream Guards could arrive but Ailell would not leave until his mission here was complete.

He would eradicate Lee Youngmi.

@☠　Ailell Brier Youngmi’s arms arched as he struggled to defend himself. There’s was a great deal of force behind each and every blow, and the angel had to think, it was already a blessing to have not been killed from the first strike. If he got out of this, he was going to remember the sound of the blade behind him for a long time. ‘If’. He scolded himself in his head. /When/ he got back home.

It would selfish to die then. When the Dream Guard was already struggling, he couldn’t possibly put his friends through more grief, could he? No, he had to get some. He’d tell people about his attacker, try to find a name to the pained face. Whoever this man was, Youngmi wasn’t trying to kill him. Fend him off until the angel was able to find a way to knock him out, perhaps.

“I don’t know who /she/ is,” He snapped. And he didn’t; for the time being the high from the adrenaline coursing through his body far outweighed his confusion.

The wood groaned above their heads, but Youngmi could not spare a glance up. He was forced to move constantly to remain out of the axe’s reach, but close enough that using a blade of his own actually had some significance to the fight. “I’m sorry that you lost someone, but I /haven’t done anything/,” He growled as he stumbled back.

Another weepy moan from the previously polished and once pristine roof.

The angel glanced up, briefing catching the wavering stability of the upper floor with his eyes. They’d both be killed if the roof fell down. The thought of being trapped beneath the sharp beams with no hope of someone coming to get him was just as anxiety inducing. Had they been outside, Youngmi would have had his rings in display. Even if they were a source of discomfort... a wall of feathers in case he was buried was a welcome thought. But it would be impossible to manoeuvre himself around the room dragging walls of feathers to protect himself with.

The angel stumbled as he held another blow from his chest. With the strength behind them, this man could be no pure human. His back came into contact with more wood, and this time, the creaking was much more sinister. His eyes widened and he glanced up, then they were forced back to his attacker. “We have to go outside, it’s going to fall in,” He grumbled. Why would this man listen to him? If anything it could only send him into more of a red misted rage.

“Please go,” There was more coarse anxiousness to his voice now as he offered a blow of his own towards the man’s side.

@✠　Lee Youngmi ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 2, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: false alarm - the weeknd

The angel had quick reflexes, Ailell would give him that. He moved, but Ailell was quick to swing his axe again, aiming for the throat—aiming to remove the head. The angel narrowly evaded that strike, Ailell’s weapon cleaving into the pillar that his target had just been standing in front of. With a grunt, the half-Elf tugged the weapon from the wood, another dangerous creak echoing through the dilapidated building. Ailell couldn’t be bothered to worry about the danger of the building collapsing on the two of them when he had a weapon in his hands and the enemy right in front of him.

“What do you mean, /what/?” the Mortem squad leader snapped. The angel had a weapon in his hand now—it was more than Lian had in her death—she never carried weapons on her person—and it was like the angel had poured a can of gasoline on the fury that was already burning through Ailell’s system. There was innocent blood on this man’s hands, and he had the nerve to act as though he didn’t know why there was someone attacking him.

If Ailell wasn’t so stricken by his grief and his rage, he might have stopped to think, might have suspected there could be more to the story than what Colette Reivana had told him. But as it was, Mortem’s mistress had set an angry dog on the scent of an angel who wasn’t guilty of the crime Ailell assumed he was, and he wasn’t in the headspace to question rights and wrongs; there was only revenge on his mind.

“You know what you’ve done,” Ailell spat. He lashed out, a powerful overhead strike that threatened to cleave the angel down the middle. His emerald eyes were ablaze with hatred, red from restraining tears—he was a leader and he couldn’t cry. Not as a member of Mortem, not as the leader of Mortem Squad 719, and certainly not as the man trying to avenge Mu Lian’s murder.

But just as Ailell pressed on, the angel fought back, defending himself from the hunter’s weapon. The half-Elf had known that taking on a Dream Guard was no easy task, that Dream Guards had to be strong warriors to do their jobs of protecting the city and putting an end to groups like… well, like Mortem. But Ailell was a wild card, a mixed bag of more than a century of hunting monsters, and he’d killed Dream Guards in April.

Clearly none of them were the right ones to go after, but he had gone where Lian had directed him. She had been like glue for Squad 719, someone who was always there with her headset when there were missions to go into even if she disliked the violence. And this angel had stolen her from Mortem. She had never slain a monster in her lifetime, she had never been one for violence but this was what happened to good people.

This was why Mortem frowned upon being a good person.

“She was /defenseless/,” Ailell seethed. His axe tore through wood, but the hunter ignored the dangerous creaking above them. If the roof caved in, so be it. If it killed the angel, he didn’t care if it took him with it—all he wanted was to bring an end to Lee Youngmi. “She wasn’t there to /hurt anyone/!”

It was the loudest his voice had been raised in years, close to a yell but not quite there. Ailell tried to maintain control over his voice and his face at least, but it was crumbling. The fury, the hatred, the pain—they were all eating away at the defenses he’d erected to keep from exposing feelings, thoughts, emotions. A good leader didn’t show what he felt to his soldiers, but none of his child army were present. Ailell wasn’t going to give this /monster/ the option to hurt any more of them.

He hadn’t thought of another creature as a monster in a very, very long time. But this angel… this angel was one. Anyone who could kill Lian was the worst kind of monster. Ailell wouldn’t let it happen again.

@☠　Ailell Brier If you’d told Lee Youngmi that his life was about to take a turn for the worst that morning, he would’ve laughed, and told you that nothing could possibly go wrong. It was an attitude he tried to take towards all days - despite the obvious strain the guard was under. It worried him, how things were at the moment. He’d get back to home to people looking serious and imposing in the corridors, who would soon pass along when too many people crowded for news.

Their captain was missing, and there was little news on him. If the angel was honest, the thought of dealing with floodgates was a second concern to him. He wanted their Captain Eden to be back in his office, or up on the roof getting high. Somewhere peaceful that they could keep an eye on him. Youngmi could sympathise with parents - how on Earth did they cope with children wandering off, when he could barely take a friend being missing for a few weeks?

Of course what he could never guess was that he had an angry parent after him.

Truth be told, Youngmi had never known Mu Lian. Nor would he ever. He had no idea that she had died, or even that she’d been around in the first place. They weren’t close, and he certainly had no motivation to kill her. But lies were spun like spiderwebs, a single string dancing until it joined with others to trap its prey, leaving room for something bigger to devour it.

The angel was part of a bigger plan now. He knew nothing of his role in it, how his death could ease the grief of a weary man, how his involvement was all trickery.

The day was like any other. The only thing that made his neck prickle was the unpleasant scent of ash and decaying bodies. There were a great deal of birds flocking the open areas - scavengers, still revelling in the few tidbits that remained from the attacks. All sides had lost people, and Youngmi’s stomach knotted as he thought of people he might know. The section of town may have been laying in ruin, but the angel still took frequent walks. To remind himself of the poor decisions that had been made, and fill himself with a raging flame to protect those around him. He would be nothing without his loved ones.

The angel slid down another alley, his head tipping. And he heard a footstep? No. It was most likely an echo of his own. Who would want to come to the site of so much pain?

To comfort himself, Youngmi’s fingers slid to the weapon on his hip. The other blade rarely joined him, so for today, it was just him and akída. Spike. A less noble, but certainly accurate name. He stepped into the tumbled down building. You’d think it had survived a millenia. The walls were scorched and the stone crumbled. The wooden rafters, probably to make the place look aesthetically pleasing on the inside, were precariously hanging, burnt to an ashy crisp in some places. He had no connection to the place. It merely felt the right place to be.

His moment of silence for the people was interrupted by his own cry. The only warning he had of the attack was the sharp cutting of the air itself as the blade came so very close to giving him a second spine. He had the look of a deer in headlights - a certain kind of terror, when one knew their life string was on the verge of being cut.

Youngmi’s body moved on it’s own, which was an awful idea in such a small space. He’d kept his back from being cleaved open, but thrown himself into a wooden mast coming from the floor to the ceiling that would have barely supported a pat from him. He heard an unpleasant crack and was quick to scramble before a second swing could relieve him of his head. “What?” Was all the panicking angel could hiss as standing reminded him of the new splinters in his hands, minor things he’d have to deal with when he wasn’t in danger. His weapon was in hand, the blade glinting as he pulled it free. His heartbeat drummed in his ears, strands of hair tumbling into his eyes as he threw himself to his feet. He wasn’t going to let himself die so soon. He’d promised he wouldn’t.

This man had a determination, but Youngmi was a trapped animal fighting for its life.

@✠　Lee Youngmi ↳ ᴊᴜɴᴇ 2, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: lovers death - ursine vulpine & annaca
↳ ᴀɪʟᴇʟʟ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e8/f0/94/e8f094a30d2bed70b45794e0719da2ec.jpg

/”Mu Lian was killed by an angel.”/

Ailell couldn’t stop the shaking of his hands as he unlocked the door of Lian’s quarters, quietly packing her things into boxes as he had been instructed by the head of Mortem. There was no family to send her belongings to, no mother who had wanted her daughter—Lian’s mother had practically thrown her into the arms of Mortem, her own child a source of shame—and Ailell had no contact information for the father, not even so much as a name. Mu Lian wasn’t even the name she’d been born with, it was the name Mortem had given her.

Lian had just been smiling brightly when Ailell had seen her last—at the ball, when he had made his exit to handle personal business. She’d been happy. Vibrant. Alive.

And then Ailell had returned to the headquarters with the news waiting for him that Lian had been killed by an angel, and his squad silent on the matter. Perhaps they felt guilt for not protecting Lian, who couldn’t protect herself. Perhaps they were struggling with the grief, trying not to show if they were affected.

Ailell didn’t know the details of how she had died. But as he gently packed her pictures and figurines away between her pillows and the stuffed animals she collected, he silently vowed that he wouldn’t allow her killer to get away with what they had done. Whoever it was surely knew that they were going after the weakest target in Mortem, a girl who could scarcely defend herself. She had no chance of holding her own against an angel.

And now she was gone, and Mortem Squad 719 was silent. Cold.

/Like Lian’s corpse,/ his brain helpfully supplied. Ailell Brier did not cry, but a tear might have slipped unbidden down his cheek as he folded away her things into boxes that would go into one of the storage units that Ailell unfortunately owned for such instances.

He had lost so many of his child army over the years, and it never got easier. No matter how cold Ailell could make his exterior, he couldn’t keep himself from loving the children he raised into soldiers, and he couldn’t keep himself from shattering when he lost another. And Lian hadn’t even had a fighting chance, like a lamb being led to the slaughter when she had stepped through the doors of the monster ball.

And it was Ailell’s fault for not watching her more closely.

He labeled each box carefully, her name written in large, neat letters so that someone could find her things—but no one would ever come to collect them. No one ever did. For each soldier—for each child that Ailell lost, the belongings remained in storage, as though he was truly their grieving parent.

The blood family never came for them.

Ailell closed the storage unit, shutting Lian’s belongings in the darkness as he locked the door. She was gone, the click of the lock sliding home a song of finality.

Ailell couldn’t let her go like this. There was no bringing her back to him, but he wouldn’t let an angel get away with stealing the kindest member of Mortem’s life. Lian was one of the few who openly disagreed with Mortem’s goals, one of the few who refused to kill a monster unless she was attacked by it. She was one of the good ones, one of the sweetest people Ailell had ever trained. She would have never attacked anyone.

There was no way that this was anything short of murder, and no matter how much Ailell disliked being a hunter, he would willingly destroy this angel for laying a hand on his—

His daughter.

So it was with his battleaxe in hand that Ailell left the Mortem headquarters, ignoring questions as to where he was going when he started out into the summer sunshine. The day was far too cheerful, unsuited to the storm that raged through Ailell’s soul, rending his peace apart—it was one thing to lose one of the brats in war, but even harder to realize that she had been killed in cold blood. And for what? For merely having a connection with Mortem?

No, Ailell would not allow that to go unpunished. It wouldn’t be the first time he had killed an angel. He’d hunted them before, in his many, many long years with Mortem, and he would hunt this one, too.

A Dream Guard, he’d been told. His name was Youngmi, he’d been told. He was shown a picture, one that a hacker from another squad—Ailell’s chest had hurt when he realized Squad 719 would be gaining a new hacker—had managed to steal from security cameras.

Ailell tracked him through the streets, hunted him like a cat stalking a mouse. He set bait and waited for the angel to be away from anyone who could help him, in the far north of the city that was still waiting to be rebuilt after fire and water had rendered it a dangerous labyrinth of crumbling buildings and corpses left to rot in the streets.

It was the perfect place to bring the angel to his end, and Ailell swung his axe, a cleaving blow with the force of his rage behind it.

@✧　Zacharius Lux ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: bad idea (intense version) - ariana grande

The boy in front of him is crying, a gentle shake to his shoulders as the tears stream down his cheeks. Akaedi's fascinated. How much farther, he wonders, can he push this boy before he breaks him altogether? Should he bother to test and find out? Breaking a mind is always good fun, but for now, Akaedi decides he won't utterly destroy poor Zacharius. The pathetic creature is already on a road that leads straight to ruin.

When he looks up at Akaedi, unintentionally kneeling before him, the Mer finds that it is fitting—this is where the boy belongs, kneeling to the will of Vos. Akaedi will give him a purpose, and Zacharius will find a family of sorts in Vos. Akaedi's blood ties them all together, the blue blood shared with every member who has joined Vos. A blood bond is a sacred thing, even in the sea that Akaedi came from—and the sea does not forgive when it has been betrayed, blood or no blood.

But this is just a terrified new recruit, all tears and pain, holding his bleeding arm close to his body as he looks at Akaedi with a face that is filled with beautiful pain and torment, with what might even be a touch of desperation. It's cute, in a sad sort of way.

"Yes. Bandages." The dumb way the boy mumbles to himself reminds Akaedi of Kivari; and if he's saddling himself with another simple-minded fool, Akaedi is certainly going to have to do something about beating intelligence into one of them—likely Zacharius, for Kivari will never be /smart/. "We're going to make sure this cut gets bandaged, and then we're going to have a nice discussion about your future with Vos."

Akaedi says /future/. The truth is that Zacharius might have a bright future, or he could have a bleak one—either can happen, with Vos. But that decision's in the boy's own hands; and only time will tell what decision he will make. He doesn't bother to reach down and help Zacharius up; he merely turns on his heel and begins to walk away, expecting the boy to follow. If he's fool enough to not realize that he needs to go with Akaedi, the Mer will be sorely disappointed (really, it will be just like another Kivari, but one with less fire to back up his idiocy).

The Vos head's car is unlocked when he opens the passenger door, having hit the button on the keys on the walk over. "Get in," he instructs, tone leaving no room for argument. He'll have the car detailed to get the blood out later, should any... spill. "Try not to bleed on my car," he adds before he slams the door shut behind Zacharius, walking to the other side of the car to get in and start the vehicle.

He could heal Zacharius with his tears, but Akaedi wants him to bear the scar of Vos.

@♆　Akaedi Vos ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: loser (crsnt remix) - jagwar twin, crsnt

Light dances in Zacharius' eyes as the man pulls up his sleeve to reveal sparkling scales and pale skin. The flashes like glitter are obscured by the blade of the knife, and then by blood the color of the ocean. Zach has never seen blood this shade before. He's dizzy, and sways on his feet for just a moment until he steadies again. Akaedi reaches out to hold him tightly and Zach stays silent as the sleeve of his jacket is forced up to reveal his own skin, unmarked and free of any scales, scars or tattoos.

There's a muted horror in his eyes and heart as Zach's head tilts down to watch the knife being guided towards his arm. Everything seems to move in slow motion at this point. The sounds around him flow slowly as if through thick molasses, accompanied by a faint buzzing, like the static of a television. His gaze is focused solely on the blade as it inches towards his skin, dripping with azure and glinting in the light.

The cut is over in an instant. Immediately blood begins to well up out of the wound, dark red mixed with shimmering silver, like Zacharius' eyes whenever he's in between shifts and half-forms. The pain doesn't come all at once. Instead, it creeps in slowly, a burning sensation that makes him wince.

He does not make a sound until Akaedi presses one bloody arm against the other, and the introduction of the gang leader's blood is like salt water being poured onto his wound. It burns tenfold, and a sensation like being swept away by the sea takes over. Zacharius' legs buckle and he drops to his knees, gasping as the burn follows a path up his arm and throughout the rest of his body, intense like nothing he's ever felt before until it ebbs away just as quickly. A receding tide against his mind, waves the shore of his soul as his whole body throbs with pain and something else, something grand, something unwanted but forced upon him.

Zacharius barely notices as Akaedi runs his fingers over his still sluggishly bleeding arm.

He takes a heavy deep breath, feeling more tears dripping down his cheeks as he finally comes back to his senses. He reaches up to wipe at his face with his uninjured arm, while holding the other close to his chest, no doubt staining his clothes red, blue and silver. "What?" he finally asks, tilting his head up to look at Akaedi, kneeling before him without meaning to. "Where? I-" He looks down at his arm again, still partially out of it, and mumbles to himself. "Bandages..." There is nothing left for him to say until he has completely rearranged and put back together the pieces of himself into something manageable, though he will never be the same again.

@✧　Zacharius Lux ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: cry me a river - michael buble

Akaedi is very good at reading body language. He has been in his current line of business for too long to afford to be anything short of capable of reading others, but he has surpassed the skill he needs to merely maintain his throne. And Zacharius, the poor thing, is someone that Akaedi can read quite well. It's rather obvious that the young man isn't used to dealing with people of Akaedi's capacity—and while he may have once considered himself lucky that he avoided gangs for so long, ultimately that is what brought him into the arms of Vos and the net that Akaedi has so delicately casted. The tear Zacharius sheds doesn't go unnoticed—it elicits the tiniest of smiles from the Mer, amused at the emotional distress he can practically smell.

The knife is a pleasant weight in his hand, glinting not unlike the jewels he is dripping in. Akaedi notices Zacharius' tension but says nothing, does nothing to call attention to it. He knows the poor dear is already under a lot of duress... and all Akaedi really wants from him is an answer, a decision.

There's only one right choice. They both know this.

Humiliation—Akaedi practically tastes it in the air. He steps forward again, methodically rolling up one of his silken sleeves to expose a smattering of scales and white scars over pale skin. The sharp edge of the knife rests against his arm, the Mer meeting Zacharius' tear-filled eyes when he presses the blade down and slices through his own flesh. Blue blood wells up from the cut, staining the blade of the knife; there is no turning back for Zacharius, now that the blade has touched the Mer's skin. Akaedi can hear the sea singing in his ears, singing for the bond that will be born from the union of their blood. It rises to a deafening crescendo that only he can hear—the sea wants, and Akaedi will give.

Blue drips down his arm to stain his fingertips when he reaches out for Zacharius' arm, leather jacket shoved out of the way so Akaedi can access the younger man's arm. The cut is swift, likely stinging—Akaedi doesn't waste time, he cuts deep to draw Zacharius' blood and tosses the knife to Kivari, who catches it with a yelp. The Mer pays him no mind, however, when he presses his arm to that of the hired hand. The song of the sea decrescendos, and Akaedi can feel warmth fizzling between himself and the poor young soul that will forever be marked, a part of Vos, a possession of the sea. There is no escaping now. Akaedi will always be able to find Zacharius, even if he should try to flee.

"Welcome to Vos," the Mer intones. He takes his arm away from Zacharius', swiping two fingers over the cut. He's sure the sensation of Akaedi's blood isn't pleasant—it never is, for landforms—but the young man will live with it. "Come with me. Once this is bandaged, we will... talk."

@♆　Akaedi Vos ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: god, pt. 1 - jean castel

There's a single moment of clarity for Zach as Akaedi places a gentle hand against his cheek. The action surprises him, a small pocket of air catching in his throat as he blinks, and one of the tears he had been holding back drips down his cheek. As soon as it comes his awareness is gone. He's dragged back under the waves of the mer's hypnotism, and Zach is too tired to try and swim his way to the top and fight it. There's something almost peaceful about being ensared in the man's spell, in a twisted way. Being forced to make this decision means Zach doesn't have to make himself sick thinking over it.

Akaedi's words slip over him like cool water. If he were near coherent Zach would be more terrified of the thought of his mother being torn apart for his potential transgressions. As it is he has no plans to betray Vos. The thought itself is unfathomable, whether it be due to the siren call in his head or his own self preservation. Zach would do his very best not to incite the ire of the mer gang leader in exchange for his mother's safety. If he was unable to follow through with certain orders then, well... Zach would think of something. Anything.

When Akaedi steps away from him Zach can feel the pull of his magic lessen by a degree. He's not out of the woods, not nearly, but it's enough for him to better sense the things around him again, and actually react to what the man is saying to him.

A knife glints in the light of the warehouse and Zach's body tenses minutely at the sight of it. His first thought is that he's going to be stabbed and left for dead. That perhaps the offers, coercion and mind control were just games for the mer, and that he would really kill Zach to get rid of any chance that Vos might be compromised. His next thought is that no matter what the knife is for - intimidation, a blood ritual, murder - Zach still can't say no. Not unless he desires to have himself and his mother wiped off the face of the earth, all because he made one stupid mistake. He has to follow through.

Zach can't tell if his hands are shaking or not when he says, "Ye-" The word gets caught in his throat and he swallows, embarrassed, scared and wishing that this moment would just e n d. "Yes." he says, and the finality of his agreement cleaves him worse than any knife possibly could.

@✧　Zacharius Lux ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: daughter of the sea - sharm

Akaedi's hypnotic spell settles over Zacharius like a cloak, and the young man's muscles relax despite himself. When his defenses crumble under the sway of the Mer's words, it's a beautiful sight and Akaedi knows—he's already won, he's only waiting for the young man to admit it.

The thing about Akaedi is that he is a predator, no matter how harmless and soft he might seem. And he is more than just a predator—Akaedi is a born hunter, a fearsome warrior from the sea. He can taste the fear, the nerves, the sweat in the air. And when the tears glisten in Zacharius' eyes, Akaedi knows it's time to go in for the kill. His prey is weak, withering under his influence, accepting that his only option is to become one with Vos.

He stalks closer, placing a hand gently on Zacharius' cheek. It is less of a reassurance, more of a claim as eyes vibrant like the ocean bore into ones that are fighting back tears. "Hurt you? I would never harm my own," he reassures, his voice dripping with honey. "You will be safe, protected, unless you should choose to betray me—and should you ever make an enemy out of Vos, I promise that it will be I who tears you limb from limb, and scatters your shreds into the sea. And your family will follow." As he speaks, his voice remains even and sweet, though his eyes darken like the ocean's depth and his fingers weigh heavy against the younger man's skin.

Akaedi steps back, his hand falling away, and smiles as though he hasn't just uttered a horrible threat. "But I'm sure that you won't make any bad decisions like that. You seem to be a sensible young man."

Akaedi could torment and intimidate him further, but there will be time for that later. In the meantime, the head of Vos is more concerned with properly initiating Zacharius into his gang. His pod. The individuals that Zacharius had unintentionally become a threat to.

The Mer is willing to assume that the hired hand will be smart enough—or will have enough self-preservation instincts—to not betray Akaedi, now that the Mer has sunk in his metaphorical claws. But if he has the guts to turn on him, Akaedi will start by killing his family—oh, perhaps he said that he would kill Zacharius first, but Akaedi is not that merciful. Those who betray Vos suffer for their transgressions.

"Are you prepared to become a member of Vos?" Akaedi inquires. His hand slides into the folds of his flowing clothing, wrapping around the pearl handle of his ceremonial knife. To be in Vos, one must become Vos—and to become Vos, Zacharius would have to share blood with Akaedi, to allow the sea to flow through him as it did through the others in Vos. The tattoo would come later—the blood was the first test, the first hurdle. There were too many who could not muster themselves through this stage, from the fear of /contamination/. Akaedi's blood was pure, pristine.

Zacharius still had the chance to back out, but it would mean his death.

@☼　Hazael Ambers The aura of light that seemed to follow the angel was dampened by his foul mood, but in being asked to keep his wings visible until he’d calmed down properly, he was marked clearly as an angel. He too blinked carefully over at his apparent companion for the time being, his blonde head tilting as he watched the wincing of the man. Damn being an angel, because the sight of the pain made him want to run over to offer to heal him up again.

“I don’t know.. we used to get told not to cry, because it was the wrong way to process things when angels are supposed to be tough and pretty,” Youngmi thought to himself out loud, though his gaze had focused on the stranger, who he offered a light smile. The myth wasn’t unknown to him, but he wasn’t sure what truth there could be behind it. He didn’t even remember the last time he’d seen another angel shed tears. “I don’t know if it’s ever rained because I cried. Have you ever seen it rain because an angel cried?”

@☠　Derek Mantaya “It has been! Years.” The angel’s eyes glowed with excitement, though the comments about his appearance not changing as they years had gone by made his skin prickle with anxiousness. And aside from maybe growing his hair a little more, that certainly was the case. “You look pretty similar too, though I’m not sure how you got so bloody tall. But you’re looking great too, very great.”

The inquisitive look that came from the other man still made him shiver, as though at any moment Derek could ask him how he’d stayed almost identical by all standards from the last time they’d seen one another. He was pulled from his worries by the movement behind him, and his hand flew to his weapon before he let it drop again. He gave the man and dog a warm smile, and let Derek move him close to let the two through. Skinship was something the angel was accustomed to, by all means. He spent god knows how long tackling new members of the guard to pat their heads and hug them. But the hand on his back had been unexpected from the human, hence his small startle. Youngmi glanced up towards him, his head tipping to the side. “Well even if none of it is interesting, I wanna hear all about it. What brought you to the city of dreams? Have you been here long or have I just caught you?”

It would’ve been strange, going about his business as he often did and never stumbling across Derek before. But then, the angel liked to let people believe he was merely a dizzy blonde, daydreaming, hyperactive and happy. “Drinking is fine with me! I don’t do it very often, but this is a special occasion,” He said, shooting his old friend a light grin. All the while he padded along quite comfortably. Avoiding straying too far from the man’s side while they spoke between each other. His mind was still racing, the coincidence had been a good one for the angel. While it brought to surface a few memories of the time when he was new to living on earth, when he really was quite stupid when it came to the ways of it all and figuring out what he was supposed to do. “Let’s catch up over a drink then. You know somewhere good to go for one, or do you live around here?”

@✠　Lee Youngmi —
Hazael had always thought angels were really beautiful creatures. They had such a command over the room as soon as they walked in, their beautiful feathers almost shining. He remembered as a young boy, a schoolmate had plucked a feather from an angel’s wing and paid dearly for it. You never mess with an angel’s wings.

Haze turned more in his spot, grunting quietly as he held his side. A rather large bruise had formed right over his ribs, and he worried he may have cracked one. He leant his head against the wall, watching the angel’s body language, “is that myth about angels true? rain is just angels crying?”

@♆　Akaedi Vos ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: all choked up - broncho

There's a tugging sensation somewhere in the back of Zach's brain. It's not so dissimilar to when he shifts and takes the form of an animal. As a child he struggled to separate his regular mind from that of the creature he would take the form of, but eventually he managed to subdue and control the urges that came from animal instinct. What he's sensing now is not that instinct. It's a suggestion. Persuasion. Hypnosis.

He is not experienced enough to block it out.

His arms relax a bit, slowly phasing out of their rigid stance at his sides. His eyes focus on the man's face, but the hardness in them has been glazed over by faux calm. Even his heartbeat is affected, thumping quieter than it was before. Zach thinks that somewhere inside himself he might be screaming in terror. It's hard to tell with the new fog that's settled over his mind, like surface-level clouds sticking to the ocean surface, sparkling in the early morning sun like the jewels flashing on the man's figure. He's been subdued.

'Akaedi Vos,' the man says, and the name rings in his head like bells.

Zach is almost drawn out of the man's spell as he goes on to "offer" him a position in his gang, the words washing over him like a surprise bucket of ice water. He breathes audibly, nervously, before it aligns once again in that false sense of security. He wants to say no /so bad/. He doesn't want any part of this, has never wanted any part in the dangerous goings-ons in the seedy underbelly of the city. Yet, here he is, caught in the claws of Vos himself with nowhere to go except into his arms or into a coffin six feet underground. Zach wonders, briefly, if they would even give him the courtesy of a burial, or if they would dump him somewhere like the ocean as food for the fishes.

He closes his eyes and for a second the spell seems to lift.

Disregarding everything that Vos has said about him, about his family, his mother's /illness/ - Zach can only come up with one possible answer. "I..." He takes a deep breath and sighs heavily. "I'll join Vos. Swear myself, or... whatever it is that I have to do." He opens his eyes and is utterly embarrassed to find his vision blurry with a sudden influx of tears. He blinks them away as quick as he can, hands clenched in fists at his sides as he tries not to ing cry in front of what he believes to be one of the most dangerous people in the city. "Just, please, don't- don't hurt me or my family. That's all I ask."

@☼　Hazael Ambers The feathered creature had been banished to the holding cells for a little while to cool off. It wasn’t like he tried to get angry, but he’d had a nasty tangle with an aggressive guy who’d refused to come along with him to the very place the angel was now locked up in. Things had gotten heated and.. well it had gotten very much out of hand. He’d been asked - a bit forcefully - to take a timeout. Youngmi hadn’t looked once at his cell mate, his snowy feathers tucked close to him while he attempted to glare a hole into the concrete wall. He hadn’t been allowed to keep them hidden. ‘In case he tried anything stupid while he was calming down.’ He wasn’t feeling very calm yet.

The voice made him startle, and like an a stunned cat’s fur would poof out, his feathers ruffled. After a long moment, Youngmi finally turned around, taking a deep breath to stop himself snapping at the poor person who had to deal with a frustrated angel. “Yeah, sure.. what did you want to ask?”

@✠　Lee Youngmi —
Hazael leant against the wall, the concrete cold against his back. His had a bloody lips and a split eyebrow as well as bruises littering his body, but he was mostly fine. He had tried to break up a fight at his bar, but that only led to the humans calling the authorities, who took one look at Hazael and dragged him away, arresting him even though they had no reason to. They just knew he wasn’t all human, so they decided he deserved to be punished for it.

Hazael looked at his cellmate, regarding him curiously. He had pretty wings with bright white feathers. He titled his head, hoping he wasn’t being rude, “can I ask you something?” He finally spoke up, trying to get the other’s attention.

@✧　Zacharius Lux ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: bermuda - sickick

Silk swishes as Akaedi paces another tight circle around the hired hand who finally identifies himself with a name, heistant and tense. The Mer can practically smell the apprehension—the negative emotions, simmering under the surface and just waiting for him to sink his claws in and see what spills out of the wounds. Halting before him once again, Akaedi appraises him, determining that the young man isn't lying to him—a wise decision, for Akaedi doesn't take kindly to liars.

"Zacharius."

The name drips off of his tongue like honey, the magical allure of a Mer's voice swirling throughout the warehouse. The existing members of Vos are accustomed to Akaedi's charm, the power in his melodic voice. But this man isn't; he isn't prepared for one of Akaedi's most subtle, but most powerful, weapons.

"My name is Akaedi Vos," the Mer pronounces. His hands are still on his waist, his back is still straight, he's still holding himself at the fullest height he can stretch himself to. When he shifts, a kaleidoscope of colorful light dances across the shirt the hired hand is wearing—as though this has been planned, the sun is at the right position that Akaedi's sparkling.

His eyes sparkle, too, twinkling sea blue as he looks over his metaphorical prey—he doesn't want to harm the boy, but his interest is piqued and Akaedi can't let him walk away unscathed lest he give himself over to Vos and become one of the family, unwilling though he might be. He's already seen too much, he knows too much. It's one thing to see and identify Akaedi, but he's seen other members of Vos and can put faces to Akaedi's organization... and he now knows one of the locales they move shipments from. No, Akaedi can't let him slip away now, without risking his precious pod.

"I would like to offer you a job, Zacharius Lux." Akaedi finishes his slow once-over, having made his observations. Zacharius is too soft, built too much like a nonmagical—Akaedi feels like there's more to him than that, but even a pure human would be welcome in Vos if they were loyal to the cause and the pod. And Akaedi, again, doesn't want to kill him. "Clearly you are in need of the money, or you would have never taken a job that was so..." he hums, thinking over his land vocabularly and settling on a word. "...shady. I can provide for you, and your family. I can smell the sickness that surrounds you but it is not your own...that can be cared for. However, you would have to work for me—to swear yourself over to Vos."

Zacharius has a choice: Vos, or death.

@✠　Lee Youngmi "Mhm." Derek hummed in confirmation. "Derek. It's been a while, hasn't it?" He chuckled, rubbing the back of his nape in order to comfort his nerves. He wasn't going to lie to himself. Seeing Youngmi was great, but it brought back memories he wasn't very fond of. "How could I ever forget you? You look- the same!" He laughed, waving his hands over Youngmi as his eyes scanned over his friend.

Derek's brows knitted together briefly as he noticed Youngmi did look the same. Exactly the same as he did from a few years ago. Although Derek was skeptical, he shrugged it off, thinking that Youngmi probably had an early growth spurt, or he had a very complex skin care routine. A smile quickly replaced the confusion and doubt on Derek's face, as if his smile had never disappeared in the first place. "It seems time hasn't changed a thing." He bit down on his lips, pressing his lips together as he scanned Youngmi's eyes for any signs of deceit, another habit he's always had to prepare for anything that could happen. "You look great. "
He nodded in response to Youngmi's question as his hand darted out to hover behind youngmi as a homeless man and their dog was squeezing by, guiding the male towards him gently. He then retracted his hand,  smiling down at you. "I've been so-so. There's nothing interesting my life that's worth talking about. " He gave a small shrug, the corners of his lips dropping faintly just for a second.

". Where are my manners? Would you like something to eat? Drink? It's on me." He patted his shoulder as he referred to himself. "You drink alcohol?" He arched a brow, motioning the male after him before he could respond to the offer.

@♆　Akaedi Vos ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: knife under my pillow - maggie lindemann

There are plenty of arguments Zach can think of to refute the other's claims.

'Vos will always have a use for you.' Meaning you'd be considered dead weight if you're not useful, and you're that much more likely to get cut down. 'Your family will be protected.' For how long? And how much? Wouldn't protection be better for those in higher positions than those in lower? Can you guarantee their safety? 'Hunters won't be as quick to bother you.' No, being in Vos would just paint an even bigger target on his back. Zach has played human his whole life - being forced into a supernatural gang is practically declaring his inhuman status.

"I see," he says instead. "So it's either die, or be forced to join against your will." He holds his tongue from adding an even more sarcastic remark at the end. He doesn't desire to get burned.

Upon returning to the warehouse most of the fight has left him. He's surrounded by what he now knows to be Vos members, and there's really no way out of this that he'd like. Zach keeps his eyes trained on the leader, still sparkling in the sunlight like a godsdamn jewelry store, contemplating if looking away would be too much of a sign of disrespect. He remains silent as the man speaks, a small shiver running down his spine. He feels especially on guard as the one sent to retrieve him finally lets go of his arm and slips away, only for the gang leader to begin circling him like a lion, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Zach keeps his arms at his sides, and his gaze forward, even when the man stops to stand directly in front of him.

He opens his mouth but the words don't come out right away. It takes him a second, and a breath, before he says, "Zacharius," and the tangle of knots in his stomach, like snakes, tightens exponentially. He thinks for a moment about his mother again, and the last name on her prescription bottles. The last name she had taken when she'd married his father. They couldn't afford the price to change it back to her maiden name when his father left, but Zach had started using her original surname once he was out of the picture. It only makes the shifter slightly less nervous to say it out loud after a long pause, "Lux. Zacharius Lux."

@✧　Zacharius Lux ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: i'm dangerous - the everlove

Kivari tilts his head. "Why wouldn't you want to work for Vos? Working for Vos is great. It guarantees you protection, anyway, and Vos will always have a use for you. You won't be laid off, your family will be protected, hunters won't be as quick to bother you." He can't understand the idea of not wanting to work for Akaedi—the merman had made Kivari who he is now. "You're right, he could kill you because you know too much, but Vos usually isn't a killer. He prefers to protect than kill, but you might have made him angry. Anyway, telling him no isn't an option. I hope you know that." His smile is lopsided, showing teeth. "He might not always be quick to kill but the rest of us are."

Again Kivari's demeanor shifts, and he nods. "Yes. Back to the warehouse. There's nowhere else I'd take you, really. That's where the boss is waiting, anyway. He said to fetch, so he must have meant to bring you back there. He didn't tell me to dispose of you." And with Akaedi, that usually meant he wanted the fetched alive.

So Kivari drags the young man back to the warehouse, where Akaedi waits for them.

When they arrive Akaedi is waiting, seated atop the transport truck even still. One of his feet swings back and forth, his jewelry winking, sending prisms of light dancing around him. Sea-blue eyes glitter down at Kivari and the hired hand, the Mer appraising the scene. Clearly, Kivari did not kill the man he drags along with him. He doesn't even look slightly toasted, and Akaedi... well, he's impressed. Usually, Kivari has no such restraints. Later, Akaedi will reward his good behavior.

But in the meantime, Akaedi sits up straighter, leaning forward so he can stare down at the two men, one the phoenix, grinning in his successful return, and the other the runaway, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else. Akaedi can smell, and feel, his discomfort, can practically taste it in the air.

"How kind of you to come back," the Mer lilts. With a snap of his fingers, two of his subordinates cross the warehouse to take his hands and lift him down from the top of the truck, settling gently on his own two feet. He's shorter than both of the men in front of him, but he looks at them with a gaze that would make anyone feel small. It's calculating and it's cold, sharp and piercing. "I must say, it's been quite some time since someone dared to run like that."

His hands settle on his hips, in the dip of his trim waist. "Though you seem rather clumsy, you do have potential," the head of Vos muses, as he stalks around the hired hand in a circle. Kivari slides out of his way, unwilling to hinder the boss' movements. "What is your name, boy? And do not think to lie to me, as it will not end well." Briefly, Akaedi stops in front of the young man so he can look him in the eye, his gaze filled with intent.

@♆　Akaedi Vos ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: devil on my shoulder - kelsy karter
↳ ᴢᴀᴄʜᴀʀɪᴜs: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/4b/23/f6/4b23f63baadd32c756c03fae270592ef.jpg

The light fading from the other's eyes is enough to set Zach on edge. Even just by sight alone he can sense how powerful they are, and it chills him to his bones even when the man gives off so much heat.

Wincing as the other grabs his arm Zach grits his teeth to keep from making a sound, like a terrified squeak or something equally as humiliating. Something hot permeates through the fabric his shirt immediately, and while he's not burning, it feels like a constant press of too hot water, no doubt turning his skin pink with irritation. He manages to keep eye contact with the man, only because he fears what would happen if he doesn't.

Zach doesn't respond verbally at first, just nodding instead, trying to keep still before the other begins to walk and drags him along down the street. He listens as the other rambles, wondering where the almost 360 degree change in personality came from. He supposes that even gang members must act differently than when they're seriously on the job, but he doesn't know enough about it to make an accurate guess. When the man says that 'the boss' is probably mad Zach can feel a shiver run down his spine. He thinks back to the other man adorned in silver at the warehouse, who he made eye contact with before bolting away from the scene. He's heard of him before. Whispers on the streets, usually from other residents at the apartment building. Sometimes even from grandmothers and parents who worry about their children getting involved in things like gangs and drugs and turf wars.

"And if I don't want to be used?" he asks suddenly. "If I don't want to work for Vos, then he'll just kill me anyway, right? I didn't mean to get involved with any of...that kind of stuff. It was a mistake, I just-" He stops talking before he can say anything else that would somehow offend the other, or actually get him killed. He even thinks about running again, but decides against it as he can still feel the adrenaline in his system, how unfocused it makes him to the point of being unable to shift. "Please, I won't say anything. Are you taking me back to the warehouse?"

@DEREK MANTAYA Another sheepish apology slipped from the angel’s lips as he startled the man. He couldn’t blame the guy for being surprised, a rather delicately featured man with a voice that sounded like a Disney villain’s had just crept out of nowhere and started speaking to him. Youngmi offered the man a light grin. If his suspicions were right and this was his old friend, he was hoping Derek would remember him.

Youngmi could still recall how stunned he’d been when Derek had told him that he was going off on his own, but the angel remembered not protesting too much. They’d been around one another for a long while and it had only made sense to the monster that his friend would want to branch off on his own at some point. Part of him wished he’d stuck around longer. Could he have helped console the man with whatever hardship had led them to split apart from working together? He wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure if he should even be striking up a conversation again after so long. What kind of path had Derek ended up taking? The hair on the back of Youngmi’s neck prickled, as though his subconscious was insisting to him that it was best to walk away. He ignored the sensation however. If things somehow went badly, he was confident he could at least defeat his old friend in a fight.

His feet remained planted steadily however, his gaze turning up to the features of the taller man. His friend had definitely grown a lot since they’d last seen one another, making the angel feel like a proud brother that he seemed to be doing well enough. “Yeah! That’s me, Lee Youngmi, at your service,” He answered. In time with his words, the angel’s head dipped into a few rhythmic nods. “And that definitely makes you Derek Mantaya then, for you to know my name.” The familiarity was enough to confirm to the young appearing man that the other was indeed his time lost friend. “I’m honestly surprised you remember it, it’s been a really long time right? Have you been doing well?”

The tension fled from Youngmi’s shoulders as he looked up at the man, taking in the differences and similarities in his features as he’d aged. Of course the angel himself had been well into his first set of hundreds by the time he’d met this human, so not much would be different about his freckled cheeks and dark eyes. He wondered if Derek would notice that, whether at some point in this interaction, Youngmi would have to confirm that he was indeed a feathery beast from heaven, and how his old friend might respond to that. Had Derek’s stance on monsters changed throughout the years? Only speaking more could tell.

@LEE YOUNGMI The sun had just started to set, leaving a dark shadow casted against one side of the dimly lit alleyway which made it more eerie than it seemingly appeared.  It was one of those nights where too many thoughts went unfiltered through Derek's mind, leaving his brain convoluted and unorganized. The anniversary of his sister's death was closely approaching and Derek found it hard to focus on anything else. Usually by now, he would be on a mission assigned by an unknown man through his disposable cell phone. He could feel the constant vibration of his ancient cell device in his back pocket, but he was not bothered to answer his persistent boss.

Derek felt that it would be nice to take a silent stroll down this part of town, hoping that he would find some clue as to who or what the monster that killed his sister was and why. The exhausted male's eyes fluttered closed as he lifted his head towards the breezy sky, taking in the chilled air that filled his lungs. It had been what had seemed like an eternity since Derek had felt the need to unwind like this. It felt nice. Free, even. The frown lines that seemed to be permanently sculpted into his forehead relaxed a little, as if the air around him had caressed it softly.  The weight on his chest faded slightly, making it easier for Derek to breathe.

That was when he heard a low, deep voice beside him,  making him flinch back a little from the from the unexpected company that broke him from his trance. As quickly as his surprised reaction showed, a guarded,  cold one replaced it. The frown that had dissipated before had returned as Derek's eyes scanned over the unknown male's face.

"How.. do you know my name?" Derek questioned slowly, his eyes watching every shift of the other's movements as they took a step back.

Taking another look at the intruding person, his eyes widened considerably, a hint of recognition flashing across them. "Wait... Youngmi? Lee Youngmi..?" He mumbled, his voice still guarded, but with an inkling of astonishment and suspicion. The other person looked similar, if not precisely, like Youngmi, his childhood friend that he had left behind a few years ago. Although, now he was looking down at the person from his own taller stature instead of looking up, their features,  down to their eyes, nose, lips, and height were an exact replica of the friend he had in his memories. The person even had the deep, distinctive voice he remembered making fun of as a child.

@ZACHARIUS LUX ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: bad company - five finger death punch
↳ ᴋɪᴠᴀʀɪ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ae/40/4c/ae404cdbf981a5b0083c482f5ed7d3db.jpg

Once given a command to fetch, Kivari fetches. He pursues the hired hand he'd been working alongside moments before, feeling the flames that build in his veins as the hunt is on. Into an alley the scent leads him, springing over a trashbag, weaving around a corner and into an area where the scent feels older. Smells thicker and mustier—beneath the fresh scent, of course.

Vaguely, Kivari realizes he's on fire as they finally come to a stop, his prey giving up on the chase. Heat shimmers off of him in waves as he approaches slowly, one foot in front of the other.

The man is scared.

And Akaedi would probably not want him dead.

Kivari blinks silver eyes and the fire is gone, though his skin is still hot when he reaches out and clasps a hand around the stranger's upper arm. "It isn't wise to run from the boss," he shares, voice rasping with heat. "Usually he sends me to destroy, not fetch." His head tilts at the stranger, silver fading to a brown as the anger cools and his skin begins to follow suit, becoming slightly less heated. "You don't really have a choice but to do what I want. I could overpower you."

And for Akaedi, he would gladly overpower this twig of a man and drag him back to the warehouse. But he can try to go the peaceful way, since he's offering a surrender. Kivari likes surrender. It means he doesn't have to stain another shirt in the color of someone's blood. This shirt is black, anyway. But still, he doesn't want blood on it.

Kivari starts to walk, pulling the man with him. And, as he is prone to do, the phoenix begins to ramble. "You know, Vos isn't unreasonable. He probably won't kill you, not unless you try to run off again. He's a good boss. He takes care of his people, if they take care of their own and take care of him in turn. He doesn't ask much. And he pays well. But running off? That makes the boss mad, really mad. It's disrespectful, you know. To just cut and run like that. But it isn't my place." Kivari shrugs. "I mean, it isn't like he would have killed you on the spot! Vos is nice, he finds uses in everyone. I'm sure there's a use for you, unless he's in a really bad mood, in which case you might get fed to the fish but I wouldn't worry about that too much. Usually he's lenient. Not prone to random acts of violence. You'd have to really light his fuse. And then douse him in gasoline."

@AKAEDI VOS There are eyes on his back. Zach can feel them as he sprints down the street, around a corner and into an alleyway. He tries to will himself to turn into something small so he can lose track of them, like a mouse or a rat, but the adrenaline and fear in his veins is preventing him from focusing enough to make the transition. He stumbles over a trash bag and almost loses his footing before pushing himself upright again, still running.

", , ," he swears under his breath. "ing ."

This is exactly the kind of business Zach made a point not to get involved in. It's the one thing he's actively avoided since he dropped out of school and started to work at age fifteen, when his only credentials were being able to shift into working animals and having some knowledge on farming from working with a family friend over the summer. Criminal and illegal activities were a hard 'no,' off the table, too dangerous for him and far more dangerous to get his mother involved in when she was so sick. Besides, Zach couldn't afford to have their aid taken away either if he developed a criminal record.

And this is how it turns out for him? All those years of avoidance, of living near the shady districts but staying on the "good" side, and he still manages to get caught up in it?

He sprints out of the alleyway and onto another backstreet. The buildings are starting to get more familiar, the kinds he passes by when he leaves the apartment. He can practically feel the heat of the creature behind him, whatever they are, and it's too close to home. Way too close.

Zach hopes he won't be killed on the spot for what he does next.

He stops running. He locks his feet to the ground and almost falls over from how quickly he skids to a halt, breathing hard, almost gasping for air as he turns around and raises his hands. The street is empty except for him and the one sent to follow him. "Stop! Stop, I'm done running, please." 'Please don't kill me,' he almost says. He thinks about his mother, alone in their apartment watching cable dramas and game shows. He thinks about how the only way she gets her prescription medication is through Zach going to the pharmacy every two weeks, and how if he dies now then she'll die alone, in that apartment, without him holding her hand and cooking dinner and making her laugh despite the pain. "I'll do whatever you want, I won't tell anyone about the warehouse, just please-" 'Don't kill me.'

@DEREK MANTAYA The cool breeze played with the angel’s hair as he walked down the lit street. It was a more settled evening than most; there was little commotion in the alleys leading off from the desolate street. In all honesty, Youngmi wasn’t required to be out walking around in the mid-evening, it was merely due to the fact that he struggled to sleep unless he’d had plenty of exercise in a day. On that particular evening, he certainly wasn’t expecting his little dander to bring him face to face with someone familiar. As though on some universal cue as Youngmi approached an alley, he heard footsteps stemming from it. His shoulders tensed as he made to walk past the narrow shadows. This was probably just a person trying to go home for the day, but you could never be too careful. Youngmi wasn’t willing to take any chances. Luckily enough, when his wings weren’t around, he passed fairly well as a human. It was only the slight aura of purity that the majority of his kind carried that could tip him off as a creature. But surely that could only be noticed by someone really trying to sense it. Now it was only when he came face to face with the figure that he let out a short yip and stepped back. Maybe the footsteps had been closer than he’d anticipated, judging by the fact that one more step forward and he’d have crashed face first into the guy’s side.

“Ah, , I’m sorry, wasn’t looking where I was going,” He told the guy, taking one more step back, though he looked up from the ground to study the face of the person he’d almost broken his nose on the shoulder of. They were a good few inches taller than him, and something about them felt strangely familiar. He’d been around on Earth for a little while now, surely I’d he knew the person he’d recognise them. Nonetheless he found himself wracking his brain furiously, cogs turning swiftly as he finally came to a conclusion. He blinked at though the past seconds had been entirely erased from memory and furrowed his brows. “Sorry - this sounds really random and far-stretched, but I really think we’ve met before, is it Derek, your name, I mean?”

With that inquiry came back a great flood of memory fro the angel, and he found himself blinking a few times rapidly to pull himself from the tsunami of thoughts. It was impossible that something as cliché as a bump in the street at night could end up bringing him face to face with an old friend. Of course, he didn’t know if they could still consider one another friends. The last time they’d been in each other’s company, he was sure it was because something terrible had happened to the man. He’d never discovered what it was, only that Derek was leaving to go off places and didn’t come back. He didn’t think that he’d ever revealed what he really was to the man, especially not after they’d started drifting apart considerably.

@ZACHARIUS LUX ↳ ᴀᴋᴀᴇᴅɪ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/98/b9/46/98b9461c606ba06a0baacd7ea93209f3.jpg
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: wrong side of heaven - five finger death punch
↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 21, 2051

The gathered members of Vos are used to the presence of their boss. Akaedi's a man who shows up often at the scene when there's business going on his gang, and when there's a stranger working in their midst it demands even more of his attention. Akaedi knows about the man, of course; he is Vos, and there is little that he doesn't know. He knows the man needs the work, and he knows that he can provide him with odd jobs here and there until he has him hooked into the ranks of Vos.

Things seem to be going smoothly, until Akaedi's eyes meet with the hired hand's right as a crash resounds throughout the warehouse where the loading is taking place. The Mer doesn't have to look down to know that the weapons they are moving have spilled out across the concrete. The man's look as he drops his gaze and freezes, blood draining from his face when he sees what the cargo they're moving is, tells him everything that he needs to know.

Dead silence spreads throughout the warehouse.

Kivari is holding his breath, holding a crate of his own. Akaedi never takes his eyes off of the man—Zacharius is the name Akaedi was given by his intel personnel—but he can see the way Kivari cuts eyes between them and practically smell the way the phoenix's blood heats as the man begins to move.

A raise of Akaedi's hand saves Zacharius from a scorching death.

But then the man runs, and Akaedi's brows snap together. He can feel the shift in the air, some of his men preparing to run and fetch. With a quick motion of his fingers, pointing after Zacharius, Akaedi sets the hounds to hunt.

The first of them out the door is, naturally, Kivari. The phoenix is swift and when he has a scent he never lets go. Akaedi's only concern is whether or not the phoenix will retrieve his quarry in one piece, or in several. Sometimes he is overzealous in his need to perform well.

In that way, he's like a puppy desperate for praise.

"Finish loading that," Akaedi commands of those who remain, climbing to sit atop the transport truck while he awaits the return of his hunters and their prey.

Kivari will bring Zacharius back to him, in one piece or more.

That is the hired man's decision.