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Animal Kingdom 4x05

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- ICARUS.

      It was hard not to keep a smile on, while it was clear that Tess was very much enjoying this, Mateo couldn’t really be angry about it, there was a part of him that didn’t mind dressing up —although he would rather swim the Frozen Run that admit it, or even let anyone suspect it— so he just shook his head and crinkled his nose at her witty remark. ❝Yeah I kinda wish they would tone it down with the gentrification…❞ Mateo laughed and followed Theresa inside. He was glad not to be wearing his boots, because he could take off his coat and the shoes, that Theresa had also picked, at the same time. ❝Okay, I feel like I just have to ask, hardwood floors? belief system? or just overall cleanliness?❞ he said motioning towards the shoes he had just left by the door, ❝I had a very rich childhood, those formative years are the reason I contain multitudes❞ he joked, his essence woven by the multicultural community he had been raised by, he often managed to surprise himself by the things hidden in the back of his mind. 

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His remark caught her by surprise, making her chuckle a quite a bit. “I feel like the gentrification isn’t an issue you have to concern yourself with just yet.” It was only a couple of houses that had been renovated to attract a little more well-off people and these houses were still what many would call ‘shabby chic’. When he entered, she offered to take his coat and hung it up before she gave his question some thought. “Probably a mix of hardwood floors and my upbringing. Where I’m from it’s custom to take off your shoes when visiting other people or at least offer to take them off. I had, however, never considered all the reasons people do it so I learned something new today.” Leading him down the short hallway, she walked into the kitchen. “So, this is obviously the kitchen, where Evie surprisingly cooks sometimes, which I truly appreciate since I’m rather bad at it.” Cooking was definitely not one of her (innumerable) strengths. “Can I offer you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water? Maybe we even have some orange juice left in the fridge. It’s the least I could do after I made you come all the way here.” 

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- FOX.

There had been no raised voices, no smashed plates and Tess seemed rather calm. All seemed calm. Well at least, for now. Wrapping her fingers around the nearest mug that was filled with steaming coffee, and perhaps a dash of bourbon that she had added previously, she took a long sip of the coffee as she tracked Tess’s shifting features as the minutes passed by, hoping that perhaps they would have a tranquil morning when compared to the shouting match that had occurred a few hours ago. Finally taking a seat opposite her best friend, a small chuckle escaped her lips before she replied with a slight amount of sass, “I’m sure someone like Antonio could shovel the rest down by himself — no help needed on his behalf.”

Perhaps, just maybe there was a chance they could get past this. And whilst the clutches of regret still clawed its way upon Evie, she knew that this was at least a start. A small smirk appearing upon her lips at Tess burning her tongue, she finally set her cup of coffee down, before helping herself to some of the smashed avocado and sourdough toast, her preferred breakfast. She had never been fond of sweet treats unlike Tess, preferring savoury dishes for her breakfast. Mulling over Tess’s words for her next reply, she replied dryly, “I will never understand how you can stand to have that for breakfast.” Yes, Evie could never stomach something that sweet this early in the morning.

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Evie’s discomfort didn’t slip Tess’ attention and for a second she felt it sting, they were never uncomfortable around each other usually. But then again, they didn’t usually fight like they had the other night, that had been a very unusual event as well. The joking already made her feel a little more at ease and she chuckled at the joke. “To be fair, he probably has a crazy metabolism, he has to take the energy somewhere after all.” She matched Evie’s joking tone, Antonio was an safe topic to talk about. There was no potential tension there. At Evie’s teasing words, she looked down at the plate in front of her, still pretty pleased with her assembled breakfast. “I think breakfast is the only meal of the day that should be sweet,” she then replied, pointing her fork at her best friend and roommate. 

With determination she cut through the waffle, collecting an obscene amount of maple syrup drenched waffle on her fork and (with a bit of struggle) plopping it into her mouth. “Mhmm, delicious.” The brunette winked at the other, before leaning back in her chair again. “Do you have plans for today or just a lazy at home day?” After a suspicious glance, she decided to give the coffee a second chance and took another sip, more careful this time. Luckily enough, it had cooled down enough to now be safe for consumption and Tessa could finally start on getting her neccessary amount of caffeine intake.

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AU SOCIAL MEDIA - Tessa’s Instagram (@overridetm) 

I. this is todays ootd, pretty standard stuff but these trousers are perfection.  II. the wife fully in her element. @itsevie  III. a lazy day of working from home (and yes, i drink my coffee black sometimes).  IV. paparazzi really must have no other hobbies. this was at 8am on a sunday. V. i just got these babies and i love them. (also thanks @flyingreyes for telling me these look “fine” but also like a health hazard.) VI. proof that @itsevie does laugh at times. you just gotta be funny enough.

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Animal Kingdom 4x05

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- JUDAS.

On the Waterfront

TIME: July 23rd 2020, Noon 

LOCATION: The Docks, the warehouse of the Reaper-Angel conflict 

STATUS: Open

Irina stepped out of the warehouse and sighed, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat as she walked towards a different part of the docks.  The warehouse had been so full of blood that night, and every Reaper that Isaac had sent was dead.  To her it had been a reminder that Isaac wasn’t much better than Masha.  The corpses that remained in the aftermath were little more than broken dolls at this point.  The difference was that she hadn’t told these pawns that he was a leader worthy of their lives.  

She was at the docks to get a sense of the storm that was brewing, walk in the shoes of a Scarlet Angel and figure out their next move.  She could imagine it now.  The posturing at the mansion.  The “It’s alright.  It was worth it.” and the “I’m fine.  It’ll take more than that to kill me.”  She hadn’t been there to visit them as they licked their wounds in years now.  When the bite of anger had worn off, it used to be difficult to think of the pain she inflicted on them.  There were so many bodies in the way of bringing down the Vetrova institution.  But time healed everything.  Knowing that her former allies barely escaped with their lives didn’t even merit change in expression at this point.

Irina could hear footsteps behind her as she walked to the end of the pier.  She stopped in her tracks, listening to hear if there would be a voice speaking out to her or the sound of a weapon being readied.

The sound of her heels on the ground was fairly sufficient evidence of the mood she was currently in, it was fast and angry as she made her way from the parked car to the docks. She didn’t appreciate this disturbance in her schedule, the audacity Irina had to make her come all the way here. A severe frown on her face, she followed the figure she saw walking over to the pier. Part of her was quite aware that everywhere she was stepping at the moment the ground was probably steeped in Reaper blood. This had been the expected outcome, Isaac had known their losses would be severe. It had been a distraction, a very expensive one but that had been clear from the start. None of the people who had given their lives here had been particularly important to the Reaper’s operations. Still, part of her felt as if she had disappointed all the people who had shed their blood for the cause here, as their mission had proven itself to be rather futile.

Shaking her head at the thought, she finally almost caught up with the other woman. “Volkova.” Her voice was sharp, demanding attention from the woman walking in front of her as she herself stopped. There was an end to her patience and she wasn’t going to run after her forever. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she raised her eyebrows as the other finally turned around. “So, I was wondering, do you ever check your messages or are you terribly busy brooding here all alone?” Tessa of course knew that Irina had her phone with her, after all that had been the way she had finally managed to track the other down. 

“Either way, there was a meeting and you missed it. We waited for at least twenty minutes, which is a terrible waste of my time.” Oh, the things she could do in twenty minutes, let alone the time she spent tracking Irina down and driving here. Tapping her foot on the ground, she then looked at the other with narrowed eyes. “Actually, what exactly are you doing here?” 

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- GAMEMAKER.

A huff of a laugh. This one tinged with a tiny slice of bitterness. He couldn’t argue against her there. She was efficient at it. Better than most. Even Ryker had far too little to hold over her, and he wonders if what he does have would still work. He’s not sure stories of their twenties would cause her to break or go weak in the knees. She’d likely only display mild embarrassment. “I know you are.” His only response. Trivial. He was unwilling to allude just how deeply he understood her statement; how he was one of those things she became efficient, as she so delicately put it, at avoiding. She ripped him off like a band-aid. And it certainly appeared to him as if he hadn’t even left a scar on her. This might be the first time he was so easily forgettable. He wasn’t ever again. Not to anyone else. He would be remembered through any means: a scar, a touch, an emotional attachment that left a dark stain on someone’s life. And it would be a dark stain. Where he went, carnage followed. 

His eyes narrow slightly, lips downturning. Such a curt statement. A bold one. Filled with implications, and many he didn’t like. But he let it go. There was nothing he needed to defend to her. Not even his claim on this city. His city. “It isn’t.” Words spoken without a thought. Immediate. Almost a jerk reaction. It was rather impossible to not fall in love with Rosnovy. Once it latched its claw on you, there was no escape. You were doomed to become another one of its ice sculptures lost beneath the heavy weight of snow. Mount Snovier had claimed many victims. And they were victims. Everyone who stepped foot in this city knew the death this city wrote, and still they stepped both feet into it. Still they chose it. And that is why it wasn’t so hard to believe. Because despite all the crimson that stains a land bathed in white, people chose Rosnovy. They remain here in its icy, fatal grasps. Dazed and half in love with the frostbite. “No one leaves Rosnovy. It stays with you.” Rosnovy is where you come to die, likely as a casualty of war and not out old age. “The city is an adventure in itself.” 

His hand casually tighten along the hard wood of the chair as his arm leans across it. He didn’t like to admit it, but she did belong here. She was as cruel as the rest of them. Maybe not in a bloody sense, but in the way that counts. She was casually cruel; she latched onto you as Rosnovy does only to deliver a death blow when you get too comfortable. “So you just missed hurting people.” Wasn’t that all a life of crime was: the infliction of pain, on yourself and others. He certainly couldn’t blame her if the answer was yes. He himself derived great pleasure from it. He merely didn’t like the plain fact that he was one of the people she had hurt. He shouldn’t have let it happen. “A little while,” he echoes, eyes boring a hole into the crown of her head as she looks at her lap. “How would you know?” His voice is a mild whisper. He couldn’t quite quell the sensitivities that lurked within, eating away at him for years now. A persistent little nagging thought he couldn’t squash. How would she have even an inkling of how he felt? She hadn’t responded. Not a text. Not a call. Not even a dumb emoji. There, and then gone. Not a care as to how it might have affected him. Affected, not hurt. He refused to acknowledge that it hurt anymore. Or at all. “I wouldn’t say that I hate you. I wouldn’t say that I feel any particular way at all.” A lie. He just wasn’t ready to say how he felt towards her.

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His hurriedly ushered words made the corners of her eyes crinkle a little, as she suppressed the smile from showing on her features. It was clear this city meant a lot to him, maybe it would have been the same for her if she had spent her entire life living in the same place. As it was, she had chosen her home now and she wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon and perhaps he could understand that? Perhaps he could just accept her presence here and they could move on? (Though there were parts of the truth he most certainly wouldn’t be able to accept if he knew.) “Yeah, you’re probably quite right about that. It’s... special.” Though there also wasn’t a doubt in her mind that some of the city’s inhabitants would indeed want to leave if given the choice. Not everyone was as comfortable with puddles on the streets being filled by blood instead of water. 

His words made her frown, as she took her glass and took a sip from her drink, never taking her eyes off him. She couldn’t quite figure out whether they were meant to be hurtful or just as a casual question but either way, she felt them like a stab to her stomach. “Unlike others I can’t claim I take enjoyment from hurting people without reason,” she stated, her tone as icy as Mount Snovier. Part of her immediately regretted her words, they slipped out before she had time to apply the caution she usually used on her words. They weren’t measured and calculated, instead she was clearly lashing out, showing weakness. Pathetic. She couldn’t let him get to her that easily, he wasn’t even really trying yet and she was quite certain that he would try at some point in the future. 

Focusing her attention on his words once more, she regained her composure. Part of her realized that the last time they had seen one another, neither of them had felt the need to measure their words. They had been comfortable around each other, careless and happy. It seemed like it must have been centuries ago now, as they sat across from one another, tension so thick she could almost see it. Maybe his question was valid, maybe she should have given it a try back then. But who wanted to give death a try, truly? But perhaps he wouldn’t have been mad at her. At least not if his unfazed demeanor at this very moment wasn’t just an act, though she doubted he was truly this indifferent towards her. “I guess I’m glad to hear that.” No, she wasn’t. It was unsettling, she could have accepted burning rage much better than this. “In a way I think I just wanted to keep the memories untainted by whatever might have happened had I gotten in contact with you immediately.” Downing the rest of her drink, she then leaned back, crossing her arms in front of her chest, raising her chin in defensive pride. “But it seems like I shouldn’t have been worried, considering your non-existent feelings in regards to me.”

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DATE: July 21st, 10:13pm.  LOCATION: Sofia Markova’s apartment.  STATUS: Closed for Sofia ( @zcphyras​​ ).

She was waiting. Waiting. Something was utterly ridiculous about the concept of having to wait on the person she was going to pressure. Or was that what she was planning? Her mind had raced, ever since Leonard had been so galant to let her into Markova’s apartment (disappearing immediately afterwards because while he enjoyed lock picking, he didn’t enjoy the whole blackmail thing as much). So, now she was alone and she was waiting, which was mildly frustrating, especially considering the state of the apartment she had let herself into. For some reason this wasn’t what she had expected, the sheer chaos around her was rather jarring. When she had first walked in her instinct had been to collect all the mugs, placed on all different surfaces and gather them in the kitchen. At her fourth mugh, however, she had realized how ridiculous cleaning your enemies apartment was and that she very much should stop. And so, she had instead started with reading the titles of every book she could find, taking a look in the fridge (which she shouldn’t have done) and registering the severe lack of personal things like photographs or just decor in general. It hadn’t taken much time for her to grow bored, especially since it was now already an hour later than the time she had estimated Sofia’s arrival at. Distracting herself with her phone, she had resolved to sitting down on one of the very little free spaces, a chair at the kitchen table, her gun laid next to her hands. 

When noises finally came from the front door, she immediately laid her hand over said weapon, while also crossing one leg over the other. Her gaze was trained on the kitchen door, as the figure of a woman finally came into view, drawn in by the light she had turned on. “Good evening, Sofia Markova,” she said, her voice calm and a slight smile on her face. “You’re a little later than usual, I hope nothing bad happened?” Her eyes traveled over the frame of the woman in front of her. She was truly striking, beautiful but not in the way most people were. Theresa had of course seen pictures, but they didn’t do her justice, didn’t capture the way she moved, like a cat, like a fighter. Of course, she had known that. It was the whole reason why, under any other circumstances Tess would have avoided meeting Zephyra in person. Now, things were different though. Now, she had the upper hand, as effectively portrayed by her being in the other womans apartment. “I would ask you to take a seat but it does feel a little inappropriate, considering we’re in your home.” 

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- FOX.

Evie wouldn’t deny that she was nervous. To not say that would be to deny the guilt that festered in her lungs, that choked her breath as she awaited for Tess to wake up. Her hands fiddling with the nearest kitchen utensil, she refrained from grabbing the bourbon bottle to pour herself a glass. No, she wouldn’t avoid the inevitable by not being completely sober. At least not for now. She’d see at least in what direction this confrontation with Tess would go before she chose to crack open another bottle or not. Her eyes flickering every so often to the shut door, she awaited for Tess to come out, before moving towards their dining table and reaching over to the coffee pot to pour her best friend one of her favourite drinks. 

“Well, I wasn’t quite sure what you were feeling — so I might have just gone for all of your favourite breakfast dishes.” She replied sheepishly before pouring Tess a cup of coffee, her eyes still moving to analyse Tess’s each minute facial expression almost to gauge where exactly they were. At least they weren’t shouting at each other at this moment. Which Evie would take a positive spin out of all of this. Especially since she felt extremely horrid for how last night had ended. Not even last night. Several hours ago. But perhaps this was a start to mending both of their fences.

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She tried to think of whether there was any other person who could even name her six favorite breakfast foods on top of their heads, but it must be only Evie. Something that should have come as no surprise to her but sometimes she forgot that this was how Evie showed her love. Not through words or gifts, as Tess often resolved to, but rather through action, through taking care of people. Looking over the plates with bacon, waffles and everything she could possibly dream of, she couldn’t help but smile. “Of course you did. Maybe after we’re done we can invite about four Reapers in here to clean off our plates,” she joked, which was a rare occurance before she had had her first cup of coffee. 

Taking a sip, she slightly burned her tongue and quickly grabbed for a glass of water, in order to soothe the burn. “Fucking shit, fuck.” Gulping down the entire glass of water in a matter of seconds, she then looked back at Evie who still looked at her as if she was a riddle to be solved. “It’s okay, I’m not going to explode, you can....” Vaguely she gestured, before taking up a fork. “Just behave like normal, Evie.” Picking up a waffle with her fork, she then put an obscene amount of maple syrup on top. Looking up, she raised her eyebrows in challenge. “And don’t judge me, I need the sugar to get through the day.” 

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WHO WHAT: A gift for Theresa Martin, @fvllaccess

WHERE: Masha’s office / unknown location of delivery

WHEN: July 14th / unknown date of delivery

Listening devices. They’d thought to use listening devices; thought to use Masha Vetrova’s own domain against her. It was either ingenious or downright naive, two days and she still hadn’t decided. What she did know was that the tech was nothing short of beautiful - intricate, subtle and powerful in equal measure. Masha couldn’t resist gently running her fingers over the one hidden in her desk lamp for the umpteenth time, closed her eyes as she felt its wiring, its pulse, through her fingertips. Of course, she could have done better - but really, not by very much at all. As such, the field of culprits was narrow. So narrow it was singular. 

It was Francesco who had provided the name to the face she’d memorised the week prior, confirmed that Masha had been right in her guess of its Martin family resemblance. Theresa, hacker extraordinaire, non-powered. Well, ingenious or naive, Masha was undeniably fascinated. Which was exactly why she’d pressed a box into the hands of a nervous looking angel that morning, commanded that it should end up in the hands of its intended recipient by any and all means necessary. 

Their paths would cross again soon, she was sure.

A BOX;

Wrapped by angelic fingers into a coat of plain, brown paper. Adorned with a thick paper note labelled in black ink; THERESA MARTIN. Inside, an unassuming tablet, not unlike the one Masha had seen the Reaper hold. Keller Tech only in its origin; rewired, recoded, remade by a woman with a unique set of skills. It’s a deceptively powerful device, graced with the breath of Vetrova lungs and perfectly adapted to Rosnovy. It’s features are.. off-market. But each one is locked behind encryption imagined by Masha herself. A test, a game, a gift. 

A NOTE;

Ms Martin,  An impressive attempt; they’re delicate little things. It seems only fitting that I offer you a gift in return. There aren’t many who could appreciate its value. Worry not - I already have ears and eyes enough. M.V.

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EVELINA MOROZOVA & THERESA MARTIN 

“There is something eternal about them, something almost cosmic, if either of them had believed in such things. She knows it when she first takes the hand of the girl with storms in her eyes and lightning in her heart. She knows it when both of their hearts race as they hide behind a corner, so close to death they could almost touch it. And while she may have lost a family, lost her brothers, she knows she has found something invaluable - a sister. Not by blood but by choice.” (( @prizedfox ))

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HEADCANON NO. 1 - Familie. 

I. Being a Martin had always been as much of a burden as it had been a priviledge, had weighed her down as much as it had lifted her up. She was a princess, both in the way everyone would bend backwards to make even her wildest dreams come true and in the way her parents would parade her in front of her friends. Perfect, pristine, poised. She was every bit as royal in their kingdom as any other princess might have been. Still, other princesses would were born to become queens, to reign surpreme over the kingdom. Not her though, no, not her. 

II. “Quicquid crescit in cinere perit”  (Whatever grows perishes in ashes) She lives an breathes the words, her family’s words. They’re written onto everything she owns, her bags, her favorite pen, a ring her father gave her for her thirteenth birthday. It’s pride that fills her when she looks at them, pride that would slowly turn bitter as the years went by. Why would she be proud in something she doesn’t get to be a part of? Still, she choses another, final place to eternalize those words, her own body. When she is sixteen, she gets the tattoo and she loves it with all her heart. On her ribcage the words stand black and boldly against her pale skin, a reminder of the greatness she was born into. 

III. She hates it. She hates everything that reminds her about her family but she hates IT the most. Somedays she wishes she could scratch it off with her bare hands, somedays she seriously considers removing it. What a bitter irony, hadn’t she risen and wasn’t she in ashes right now? Nineteen years old, she is being hunted all over the continent, she hasn’t lived a day void of fear ever since she has left. She doesn’t even recognize herself in the mirror anymore, the only thing that remains of the child she was are the words, words that had once been like religion to a girl who believed in no other gods but her parents. 

IV. A smile on her the sharpened angles of her features, as she looks in the mirror, letting her fingertips travel over the new ink under her skin. It’s words again. Maybe she should have learned from the first time, maybe she shouldn’t have done it but all she can feel is pride. They’re on her hip this time and it’s an absolute masterpiece. It’s her presence, marked on her skin inches beneath the constant reminder of her past. “The dead are departed but the living are ravenous”.

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You’re gonna figure out your way around that. How?