empiriical

[empiriical]

this time thinking about maiza && elmer's friendship && i'm so ooouuuuguguuhuh this evolution from 1708 to 2001 is insane

[empiriical]

i'm thinking about this... i'm thinking about this so hard, in fact.

[empiriical]

b.accano characters who have divorced dad energy who are neither divorced nor dads:

maiza avaro

victor talbot (he's kinda divorced but he wasn't actually married)

i almost put huey laforet on here but like no he's actually both of those things (basically) (its complicated)

fred

[empiriical]

victor's being uncommonly patient, even as his temper flares, a trait maiza rarely saw in him on the advena avis, && never since both finding their way into the suspiciously small circle that is downtown manhattan.

privately, maiza's always sort of wondered just how it was possible that two of the few remaining immortals both ended up working in the same ten block radius. && more privately, he's always sort of suspected that victor came here because maiza came here.

or not, because as victor said, not everything's about 'his ass'. && yet victor's made it his business to turn his department's entire focus on dealing with immortals, so — it kind of is.

the thought brings a small, amused smile to maiza's lips, which he's only able to do because the whole rukus turned out just fine in the end. not that he would've had a single scratch on him if it hadn't.

"you'll notice i didn't thank you," maiza points out, though not without humor ; of course, he's not not thanking victor either, because this could have gone differently if the other man had deigned to treat him the way he treats the rest of maiza's people.

which is precisely why he feels no need to express explicit gratitude. victor may be an immortal, but so are 90% of the martillos, && victor's declared personal && private war on all them. maiza's loyalties are not determined by how long he's known them.

&& yet, something keeps him standing there, on the sidewalk with victor, long after the thugs he'd clashed with were carted away.

"anyway, i'd comment on your obvious bias, but i don't want to tempt fate." he raises an eyebrow. a challenge. it's painfully obvious to maiza that as much as victor wants to have the upper hand, he simply doesn't. not against him, anyway, because for some reason, whatever reason, victor always refuses to follow through on his threats. && maiza can tell that it's taking every once of victor's strength to not simply implode with frustration.

so maiza takes off his hat, relaxes his posture slightly, && for just a moment, drops the 'gangster facade' (if there even is such a thing, if it even is a facade), && offers victor the smallest mercy he can: remnants of an old friendship.

"let me buy you a drink."

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜ maiza for victor bc i randomly started thinking about them. idk what happened, probably maiza got caught up in a skirmish on the street or something and victor happened to be nearby.

Uncharacteristically, there isn't already a lecture going on by the time Maiza speaks. The people Maiza was in conflict with are already being carted away and, according to Victor's own professed morality, he probably should have had the cops take Maiza away, too. For assault, and all that---for all he knows, Maiza could have started the damn fight in the first place.

Only it just isn't possible. It's part of the reason he couldn't have openly asked Maiza to infiltrate Alcatraz, needing to rely on some kid with an unfortunate personality he only knew through hearsay. Victor can't---won't---allow that sort of thing to happen to Maiza.

He's a damn unfortunate person who's set himself on the worst fucking path someone like him could have taken, but at the end of the day, I don't really give a shit what path he's on. After that day, I can't see Maiza as a bad enough person to brand him an ordinary criminal and lock him in some shithole.

"I didn't do it for you!" Victor retorts, long past being the sort of person who says what he means. Instead of some melancholy fondness being reflected in his tone, there's just annoyance, annoyance, and more annoyance. "Not everything's about your ass. This is basically in my job description. I'm not gonna see some useless limp-dicks doing that kind of thing on the street and turn a blind eye to it."

It's decidedly not in his job description. The thought pops up again---that unfortunate thought. Victor sees Maiza as a decent enough person that anyone picking a fight with him would have to be much worse than he is.

"Whatever. Don't mention it. I don't wanna hear some kind of gratitude from you, because coming from a criminal that's practically an insult."

dialogue prompts. / accepting.

[empiriical]

he hadn't wanted to leave, for a number of reasons. in fact, his primary reason for wanting to stay was a perfect mirror to his primary reason for his eventual departure: sentiment. a promise to the gandors that he would return to help them with a job had, in the end, expedited claire's departure, but all the while, another part of his heart longed for the circus — even if it wasn't the one he had made his home, even if the people in it had shown nothing but cruelty && contempt toward their starring performer —

— && of course, that performer herself.

he'd told the gandors about her, of course, && they'd responded with their usual skepticism that such a person (a person who was equally fond of claire as he was of them) could exist, but he'd simply assured them that 'she doesn't exist, not outside my head, but that's why i've gotta go back && get her. i feel responsible, see? don't worry. you guys will be able to meet her soon enough — i hope!

"i mean..." claire looks at serpent as she questions his memory as if the very thought is absurd. "i promised i wouldn't, didn't i? i don't break my promises."

oblivious, or perhaps just willfully ignorant to her hesitation, claire simply closes the distance between them, pulling her into his arms in a strong embrace. "i'm sorry it took me too long to come back," he apologizes, casual, as if it's only been a few days. "i got caught up doing some business for my brothers, but i told them i couldn't stick around once i was done, 'cuz i had to come back here for you."

he pulls back slightly, holding her by the arms to look her over with a critical eye. "so, i know i gave you a choice before i left, && then i kinda just made a decision on my own, because i really did have to go. but now i'm not in a rush, so i wanted to revisit those options. do you remember?"

° • * ˚ ⁀ ➷ @empiriical , the horror and the wild : " did you miss me? " Claire hehe… I Certainly missed them

　 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅, for the tongue of mankind does not possess enough words to express just how much she had missed him. it had been a weird feeling, at first. he was gone, stolen away from her greedy hands by an existential pursuit that she could not comprehend, but she had not wept over his departure: his memories were safely tucked within her heart, that bloodied organ that had ultimately become a treasury for all the sentiments that he had gifted her with [ ... ] and for a while, his ghost had been enough. but then, day by day, darkness had crept closer and closer to her once more ; she had not realized it initially, for the emptiness encroached all around her with the callous patience of the night that devours the day, until she woke up one day and realized that she was, once again, naught but an empty vessel of flesh and bone.

his absence had reminded her of how it had felt to be imprisoned within a cage much too small for her physique. his absence had reminded her of how it had felt to be but a grotesque shadow within the colorful saloons of wealthy patrons. his absence had reminded her of what it meant, to be utterly and entirely alone in the world.

her thin brows have furrowed above the bridge of her nose in a melancholic grimace, the same nose that now scrunches up in a puerile attempt at suffocating the quivering and loud sigh that threatens to escape from the depth of her tangled throat ▬▬ but she can't allow him to see her, she can't allow her fragmented and hollow soul to be laid bare ... for serpent knows that if she ever allowed herself to bleed, she would never cease to. ❝ of course, i missed you ... ❞ a whisper, dulcet but heavy with sentiments that monsters ought not to experience. her vision becomes blurred at the edges, there is a frustrating wetness that curbs the fluttering of her lashes. if she only knew how, she would have reached out to him ... if she only knew how, she would have coiled around him and never allowed him to leave again. ❝ how is it possible, that you didn't forget about me ? ❞

[empiriical]

"i have no doubt," maiza says, && there's fondness in that dry tone of his. they have complimentary senses of humor, && maiza can't remember when that started, or if it had always been like that. regardless, he's lived far more of his life by ronny's side than not ; it's only reasonable to assume that at some point, their personalities simply began to entwine.

much like every other aspect of their lives.

"to your credit, i think it would be difficult for me to fall harder than i have. that's not a challenge, by the way. you have too much time on your hands as it is."

with a quiet laugh, he winds his fingers together with ronny's. "actually, i wanted to ask your advice... no, your opinion, i guess, on something. it's... related. sort of."

"None of those things are beyond my capabilities," Ronny points out helpfully, too distracted by Maiza's smile to immediately give a witty response (though it's no less dry than usual). Even when his eyes slip closed, he sees it, and not only because of his general omnipresence. It certainly isn't the first time he's seen Maiza smile, but Ronny generally feels the need to catalogue each one to think back on.

That man really did strike gold with his wish, even if he didn't quite understand that my presence would absolutely help Maiza. It's not generally like me to feel competitive, but I've given him more reasons to smile than anyone else.

"Well, no matter. I'm a little hurt by the implication that I haven't already swept you off your feet," he continues, betraying no real signs of being hurt (or, as a matter of fact, that he even believes he hasn't). "All things considered, I'd say the distinct lack of clichés until this moment has worked just fine for you."

Ronny chuckles, an amused syllable, then takes full advantage of their proximity and relative privacy to steal another short but unhurried kiss from Maiza.

He sees the two of them standing in the rain from the perspective of another point in space, without meaning to. From the outside, there are no traces of immortality or alchemy, no slight hints of a demon lurking beneath the skin of an ordinary man. Ronny usually doesn't particularly like the idea of being someone completely ordinary, resolved as he is to live strikingly, but at Maiza's side he doesn't mind the simple image of one couple of a thousand kissing in the rain, or sharing cigarettes.

"If I was going to coerce you into falling harder, I'd find much more interesting ways to do so."

To be human is to be ordinary, in some ways, but Ronny still doesn't intend to be the latter.

[empiriical]

dont ask me why but now i'm thinking about maiza && victor's friendship.

[empiriical]

you'll never guess who i'm thinking about

[empiriical]

When you’re holding hands with someone and they lead your hand to their mouth and kiss your fingers is what I live for

[empiriical]

if he were any more sensible, maiza would have left well enough alone. having said his piece, he knows, logically, that he should just let melvi go. now they're both upset, && it doesn't make maiza feel any better. nor should it. he's never been a man who weaponizes scathing words. in fact, he's always been remarkably good-natured, even in his youth, when he ran significantly more wild, && was far more hot-blooded. he can't help that melvi's presence brings out the worst in him, even if he should be able to. he supposes that the same is true in the other direction as well.

so despite the fact that for all intents && purposes, he's 'won', && melvi's iminent departure will undoubtedly raise the mood in the room all around, he calls out to stop him anyway. because if there's one thing maiza excels at, it's harboring guilt.

"melvi, wait. i didn't mean that. i don't—" nothing he can say would be true enough to keep him here. maiza doesn't even want to keep him here. && yet he tries to anyway.

"..." he sighs, shaking his head. "don't let my baggage ruin your night." && he, too, turns to go.

at this point, i doubt i'd be able to enjoy the rest of the evening anyway. i should probably just head home myself.

"I was made to upset you. I'd be more surprised if you weren't."

It's a cold response, but Melvi is what he is. Even at his most amicable, he'd never quite mastered the art of speaking kindly.

For most people, this event is a party. For Melvi, a lions' den filled with many people who don't know how to let go of a grudge---not that Melvi, stubborn and set in his ways as he is, is any better. Were he a less emotional person, he might not have come at all, and he's beginning to regret that Luck had extended an invitation to him at the first place.

Melvi knows his own tendencies, after all. He won't step gingerly around the sleeping lions. He'll poke and prod them until they bare their fangs. That's how it will always be.

That said, he can't come up with a single thing aside from that to say to hurt Maiza more than his very existence does. Nothing that doesn't put a foul taste in his mouth, anyway.

If I hurt Maiza Avaro, I'm doing exactly what I was made for. I refuse to be their puppet even after all this time.

"And that isn't my fault. You're right." Melvi decides to remain as neutrally cold as he can, de-clawed as he currently is. "I'd like to think I've done a very good job of completely avoiding your whole family tonight, so I graciously apologize that not even distance can make up for the fact that my very existence makes you want to cry."

He's probably thinking about his brother. Frankly, Maiza isn't the first Avaro to constantly remind Melvi of how similar he looks to Gretto.

It's not my fault. I didn't have a say in it. I certainly didn't ask to be created. I didn't ask to come here, or to be gawked at all night. Who cares if it makes Luck happy that I'm putting in an effort? He's not the one who has to loiter about while the people who actually belong here look at him like he's not to be trusted, or like he's bringing down the atmosphere simply by standing there and staying out of the way.

"In any case, I'm not sure what you want me to say to that. You're certainly not the only person who finds me difficult to be around. At least they seem to only have an issue with me because of something I did."

Feeling himself grow hot, Melvi takes a breath, stepping back. If not for the fact that he didn't want to cause a scene that Luck would have to deal with, he probably would have stepped over the line without even meaning to.

Evil will commit evil, I suppose. There isn't any changing that.

"You're in luck, at least. I have no desire to stay here when it's clear I'm not wanted. Congratulations, your burden-free festivities can begin shortly." Unable to help himself from driving the passive-aggressive knife in a little further, Melvi takes a short, light bow as he steps back.

[empiriical]

whether or not 'xeno' believes the white lie doesn't matter. all that matters is that he's not a threat, not in any way that matters. czes even smiles a little — a rarity, at least when it comes to genuine smiles — in response, because well... he gets it.

he gets it all too well.

"i know," he says, && he sounds too much like someone who's lived well over a century for what his appearance would suggest, but czes allows the mask to slip a little anyway ; any other kid who's on the road like this too is going to be far more mature for their own good. "me too." he's not even sure why he keeps talking, except —

"you're smart. for going." he takes his hat off, grips it in his hands tight enough to put strain on the seams. "...anyone coming after you?"

there is something here. something kept trapped beneath the surface. he recognises it: the shape secrets take inside of you, how hungry they are to eat away at everything else. he won't push the boy. let him keep his secrets, xeno thinks, i have enough of my own.

but he makes no effort to leave either, leaning back against the harsh brick of the wall behind the bench. the cigarette dangles aimlessly from his fingers, partially forgotten as all his attention fixes on thomas. (he's not sure whether he buys it. if the kid was smart, out here on his own, he'd lie to any stranger. names hold too much power.)

"i'm xeno—" too bad he doesn't take his own advice, "—good to meet you, thomas." he grins, shrugging carelessly. "caused some trouble in town. figured it was time to hit the road. i'm not interested in dealing with the aftermath. it's a good lesson to learn, you know. when to leave. you get out sooner rather later, got that?"

[empiriical]

he reminds claire a little of luck, in a way. luck had been about august's age, last time claire saw him, anyway. his brother, serious && steadfast even before reaching teenhood, the youngest boss of a mafia family. that life suited luck, or so claire always imagined. this life seems to suit august as well, even if he's not so much a natural performer as another lost soul finding community in a group of odd misfits.

"a knight, huh?" claire leans his head back against the fence post, closing his eyes && tilting his face up to the sun's warmth above. "okay, i can see that. you'd have to be good at fighting. but that's easy. anyone can learn to fight. i did."

( 'what use does an acrobat have for fighting?' 'haha, well, i wasn't always an acrobat. my brothers are the sons of a big scary mafia boss. he raised me too, so i grew up learning that.' )

"august the knight. what's the title knights have? sir? sir august. i like it. suits ya, kid. that's how i'm gonna imagine you from now on. hey! here's an idea." his eyes shoot open, and he turns to august enthusiastically. "you like drawing, so draw that! you as a knight. oooooohhhhhh, && there could be a whole act around it." he punches him in the arm energetically. "&& you know what? you could draw the posters for the circus. bet they'd pay you for that."

he supposes a snappish comment would fit here. something to the tune of i lack the life stability needed to stop worrying. and he holds his tongue, pokes his popcorn, flicks a piece into his mouth. “ i, uh. i like drawin’. guess i could do that? ” the remark is void of any cheer, any sunlight. but it is gentle, hushed.

(it would be a losing battle to even attempt mimicking claire’s energy. still, auggie can exercise kindness.) he places his popcorn down and leans toward him. “ ah, you probably want to hear my fantastic ambition. somethin’ outta this universe? ” his thumb grazes the scar upon his chin.

he thinks and thinks and thinks. it has to make sense, obviously. something, some dream suited to him. his fingers snap. august grins. “ i would be a knight. they are brave. nothin’ scares a knight. ” his imagination. getting the best of him once more. well, auggie finds his idea to be very fitting.

[empiriical]

ok i'm free. drafts time.

[empiriical]

dear god it’s hard to end fics. anyway that’s finished, now i can go back to rp.

[empiriical]

Baccano! Week - Day 2 Time and timelessness

[empiriical]

writing fantasy au maizaronny confession scene and tearing my eyeballs out from secondhand embarrassment <3

[empiriical]

i wrote over 2000 words of fantasy au maizaronny fic in a haze today on the bus && i have no idea if it's good or not but at this point i don't care.