#… 𝘈 𝘊 𝘊 𝘌 𝘚 𝘚 𝘎 𝘙 𝘈 𝘕 𝘛 𝘌 𝘋 ⁴⁰⁴ ! 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 / AZAZEL.

[dionistic]

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : food truck somewhere in london 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 : hajoon choi 𝚝𝚘 : open starter [ 4 / 4 ] — capped !

alright, sure, this is not one of hajoon's usual favorite restaurants, nor does it look like any of them. however, the huge queue in front of the truck is downright intriguing. there has to be a reason for it, this many people waiting for... some sort of dessert? and hajoon, who does have ample time on their hands, decides to join in and figure out what all of this is about. call it an experiment of sorts, or a conformity trial, they will figure out soon. "so... have you eaten here before? is it really good or is it just another photograpp-h trend?"

[robotae]

… 𝘓 𝘖 𝘈 𝘋 𝘐 𝘕 𝘎 : S T A R T E R !  

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 :  ███████   ,  ON FIELD 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 :  BAEK  JUWON 𝚃𝙾 :  ZAKIR  MALLIK [ @justsurvival ]

it's hardly the type of hotel juwon prefers. however, much to his chagrin, it seems this is the only option they have near the area. strategic, for sure, though it's hardly luxurious or comfortable. dragging his luggage ( and one of zakir's- why is it so heavy ? ), up the stairs ( because guess what? the elevator's broken. how lovely ), he follows behind the tech agent. it doesn't take them too long to find their room number carved on the hotel key, and juwon heaves another, very pointed sigh once the room's in sight. "shouldn't it also be a bad sign that there are no decent hotels near their den?" truth be told, juwon has lived in much, much worse conditions; more than a few prison cells, and other locations that he does not think about. it's just that he is in the mood to complain, more tense than usual due to the fact that on this mission, he isn't alone. it's much easier to ensure his own safety, compared to adding another person's responsibility on his shoulders, especially when the person in question isn't even a field agent. ( surely, his concern has nothing to do with which tech agent is in question. — this, you couldn't get out of him either ). heaving their luggage inside, he pushes zakir's to the designated spot, hands on his hips as he looks around. the sight of two twin beds is so comical that a huff leaves his mouth, shaking his head. "great — we are back in college." not that juwon has had a proper college experience; he has been trained inside the facility instead — though, he assumes this is how dorm rooms look. he moves his own luggage on top of his bed, unzipping it open. "i'd say- the quicker we get this done, quicker we can go and find a four seasons or something — there has to be at least one of those in our near vicinity."

[vig1lantnakia]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 : ON ISLAND, POST PART #3. 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 : SAAD, NAKIA. 𝚃𝙾 : CLOSED STARTER. [ 5 / 5 ] — capped !

Even if Nakia has seen a lot of death and terror in their line of work, and surely more than the regular person out there- seeing a woman disintegrate into salt particles is a first. It's terrifying to witness, and just like many others, all they can do there is stand frozen, trying to comprehend what they have just seen. It seems like a cruel joke, to bring them all here, to not give them any answers, to force them into seeing someone else die like that. Again, it's not Nakia's first, though the sudden nature of it all definitely makes it one of the top worst. Is it a warning? Is there more to come? And what happened? How the hell can they prepare to protect themselves from a supernatural phenomenon like that? They stand near one of the poles with the loudspeaker on top, and glare daggers into the object when they hear footsteps approaching. They begin to speak, before they even figure out who it is standing behind them. "I want to bring that thing down and tear it apart." Simple, though they don't know exactly how they will reach the speaker just yet. "And no- It has nothing to do with anger issues, I think figuring out how the receiver works could help." At the very least, help him learn how communication works in this place.

[dionisms]

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : aura music festival , the underground 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 : choi hajoon 𝚝𝚘 : tobias northcott [ @s3renities ]

it's  curiosity  that  makes  their  feet  follow  the  arrows  to  the  art  section�� of  the  festival.  it's  strictly  curiosity,  and  that's  it.  there  are  a  few  artists  hajoon  already  knows,  and  they  can  also  point  out  the  fact  that  they  are  there  to  see  them.  no  one  else.  though,  when  the  familiar  figure  does  catch  their  eyes,  hajoon  can't  help  but  make  their  way  towards  him,  squinting  at  the  artworks  nearby.  "any  of  these  yours?"  isn't  the  politest  greeting, for  there  is  enough  alcohol  in  their  system  to  make  them  let  go  of  the  very few  inhibitions  they  usually  have.  maybe,  they  will  sober  up  soon.  "are  festivals  any  good  for...  this?  they  don't  seem  to  be  —-"

[robotae]

… 𝘓 𝘖 𝘈 𝘋 𝘐 𝘕 𝘎 : A N S W E R E D !  

[ @ruindgod ] asked : “  i’m here now.  i know i wasn’t before.  but i should’ve been.  and i’m not going anywhere.  i’m not gonna let that happen again.  ” / azazel to jude

there's gauze wrapped around his arms. underneath, some sort of salve spread across his skin, making the pain of the burns lighter by the stinging cold that comes from medicine. his legs pulled against his chest, jude realizes he is wearing someone else's clothes. a soft dark pair of sweatpants, a white t-shirt that leaves his arms bare. they feel nice, and when he tips his head down to bury his nose into the fabric, the smell is so distinctly azazel that it eases the tension from his shoulders. safe. he's safe here. and when he raises his head, he sees the demon in question looking at him. azazel's expression is gentler than he has ever seen him, something unusual brewing under his eyes, something jude cannot put his finger on. he's too exhausted, too drained to think on that further, and instead, he leans into azazel's space, moving across the couch until he has an arm wrapped around his chest. legs curling underneath himself, he tucks his head underneath azazel's chin, hoping he won't pull away, at least not now. the movement makes the other injuries sting, those he had forgotten. the bandages on his back and his nape pull at his skin, but he does not pull away. at least, he won't, — until azazel asks him to. "it's —" okay? can jude say that? it feels impossible to do so, not when his life's work is turned into ash, not when he was sure he was going to die down there. "it's not your fault." is what he goes with. a truth is better than a lie. and when azazel's words play with his heartstrings so, he finds it impossible to hide how much he appreciates them. "and- it's- it's not your responsibility, either. i know." even with the deal hanging between them, even when it's the only reason azazel tolerates his presence — if someone has it out for jude, it does not fall onto azazel's shoulders to keep him safe. he knows this. that doesn't mean jude doesn't want him to. "but thank you. i- i was scared... i am scared." it tastes heavy on his tongue, made easier to speak into words when he isn't looking up at him. instead, his hold on the other tightens, as if he is afraid he will let him go. "so- i- i appreciate that, azazel." and only at the promise of 'i won't let it happen again', surprise swims across his features. he pulls away slightly, only to look up at him now. to search within his eyes if he really means it, or if it's another veiled comment. whatever he finds there, comforts him endlessly. his lips purse, he nods. "okay. i believe you." call him a fool, or an optimist, jude does not particularly care. he believes azazel, believes he will be able to keep him safe, believes that he actually means these words. these aren't uttered in the same way as his sarcastic quips, no eye-rolls accompanying the words, no spark of annoyance in his gaze. there is something else there — and it's none of those things. "thank you." and perhaps jude is playing into the pity card a bit too much, hoping azazel won't refuse him now, of all times. slowly, he settles back to the same position, arm curling around him, a head on his chest. the smell that's so distinctly azazel is much stronger here. it's all the more comfortable for it. his eyes close. maybe he can fall asleep, and when he wakes up, everything will be alright.

[robotae]

… 𝘓 𝘖 𝘈 𝘋 𝘐 𝘕 𝘎 : A N S W E R E D !  

[ @ruindgod ] asked : can i kiss you one last time? / ( about to be reset, cael to dao )

desperation clouds his mind. his hands shake, fury vibrates from his core. the red of his eyes flicker, his hands wrapping around cael's lapels, much too akin to how he did the same motion, all those months ago. a parody, the dao of back then, who wanted to see the angels' demise, to see the smirk wiped off of cael's face, yearned to see him fail, to watch his fall just like lucifer did. the dao of now, would climb the tower of god and take the leap himself in a heartbeat if it meant stopping cael from meeting that fate. he can't. and that's the tragedy of it all. he refuses to believe in fate. and that becomes his own end. "fuck you — no, don't you say that to me —" albeit just as forceful, his hands are gentler this time, as he pushes cael against the wall, again, all this time later. maybe, he can pretend they are still at the beginning of this cruel game. chasing traces of godsparks, stepping on each other's tails. a game of pull and push, where he could not even fathom both of them ending up so desperate for each other's touch. "i am not letting him take you away from me. i am not." the same hands that are always sure of themselves, are frantic as they press against the fabric of cael's suit. his nails dig into the fabric. as if he can keep him here, protect him, despite god's order hanging above their heads. the fact that cael has accepted this fate, makes the same fury burn brighter, his eyes shining, lips having turned into a snarl. "he can't- he can't do this — i will find a way, do you hear me? i will find a way —-" let it be in the form of another deal with azazel, or with god himself, if there is a way, dao will find it — he just needs time. that's all. some more time. he pretends that they do, he has to. or he will lose himself. "just — give me some time, little angel? alright? please?" black, dark tears slide down his face, leaving marks in their wake. his hands move up to take a hold of cael's face, to turn his gaze down, so that he can meet his eyes. "just- some time- i need- i need some time —" his hold is frantic, his words crossing into one another. dao has never felt panic like this before, has never felt desperation this strong.   "i will- i will figure it out — i- i am not losing you, you hear me?" a step closer, until their chests are almost brushing. despite his frenzy, despite his pain, dao cannot bring himself to refuse him- when his lips press against the angel's, they are just as desperate, as if his touch can simply keep him here, and his fury is enough to change god's mind. he deepens the kiss, to prove his devotion, to convince him to believe in dao — that he can make him stay, somehow, he will do everything, even if it's the last thing he'll ever do. dao kisses cael like a bruise. he kisses him like a promise. a plea, a prayer, all those things demons should never do. it does not matter. all that matter is cael, in front of him, with eyes that recognize him. dao cannot stomach the thought of anything else. "that- that was not- our last kiss. i swear to you. it's not. it can't be."

[dionisms]

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : aura music festival , songbirds & sangria 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 : choi hajoon 𝚝𝚘 : margaret "marg" metcalfe [ @s3renities ]

"let's  goooo!"  they  whoop,  putting  a  hand  on  marg's  shoulders,  turning  her  around  slightly  before  they  point  towards  their  destination.  "i  see  a  karaoke  machine,  do  you  see  the  karaoke  machine?"  hajoon's  not  even  drunk  yet,  they  only  had  one  drink  at  one  of  the  stalls,  and  have  been  looking  forward  to  some  proper  entertainment.  it could be said that they are drunk off of the idea of how much fun they will be having soon. having spotted  marg,  their  spirits  are  instantly  up,  a  grin  on  their  face.  "how  many  sangria's  before  we  jump  into  singing?  three,  four?  do  you  think  there's  even  proper  alcohol  in  them?"

[dionisms]

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : home , brooklyn 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 : izumi tanaka 𝚝𝚘 : rosie rosarin chanthara [ @s3renities ]

many  keychains  dangle  as  she  turns  the  lock  open,  various  souvenirs  hanging  off  of  them  making  clinging  a  noise  that  can  be  heard  across  their  flat.  izumi  tries  to  maneuver  her  purse,  her  laptop  bag,  and  the  paper  take-out  bag  in  her  grasp  as  she  toes  off  her  red  flats,  pushing  them  to  their  designated  spot  near  the  entry.  "rosie!  rosie  —"  she  lets  out  in  a  singsong  voice,  a  huge  smile  on  her  features  as  she  navigates  to  the  living  room.  lying  down  the  laptop  bag  on  top  of  the  dining  table,  she  shakes  the  paper  bag  slightly  when  her  friend  is  in  sight.  "you  wouldn't  believe  the  too-good-to-go  finds  for  today!  gourmet  sandwiches.  i  think  someone  rich  must  have  cancelled  an  event,  there  were  so  many.  i  got  us  two  each."

[robotae]

… 𝘓 𝘖 𝘈 𝘋 𝘐 𝘕 𝘎 : A N S W E R E D !  

[ @ruindgod ] asked : for your sake, i hope you’re lying. // azazel & jude !

a pout plays on his lips, and he pulls the very expensive trenchcoat tighter around his frame. it's a surprisingly good fit, even if it's off by a size. "i'm not lying... why would i lie?" jude starts, moving further into the main room where azazel is in. the shoes on his feet are a bit more difficult to walk in, and they are definitely a size too big. "i heard you have a particularly impressive fashion collection — and had to see it for myself!" the coworkers back in the headquarters had mentioned it to him again and again, prompted by jude's admiration of how good azazel looked in today's particular outfit. at the end, he was convinced that he had to go take a look, having received the address from them. "one of your coworkers gave me the address, and hacking my way into finding your passcode wasn't too hard." he always carries his hand terminal with him, and after connecting it to the port near the door, it only took five minutes before the door was unlocked. could this be constituted as breaking and entering when azazel already knows him? jude hopes not, not keen on going to prison any time soon. "you have some really fun clothes —-" the pout turns into a grin, spreading across his face. he bats his eyelashes as he unwraps the trenchcoat, showing the very tight leather pants, and the mesh shirt underneath. it leaves nothing to the imagination. "are these really yours? or do they belong to someone else?" the question is a loaded one, eyes searching the other's face. there is a tinge of jealousy there, though he is more interested in seeing azazel's reaction. "the heels are really difficult to walk in. i see why you never wear them to work."

[robotae]

… 𝘓 𝘖 𝘈 𝘋 𝘐 𝘕 𝘎 : S T A R T E R !  

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 :  LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY GROUNDS 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 :  FELIX  EMILIANO ORTIZ 𝚃𝙾 :  KATARINA  STASOV [ @rosesonbreeze ]

it's probably been two hours tops, but felix feels as if it's been much, much longer than that. the numbers ( and the letters, why are there letters in math ?! ), jumble into one another, and he feels a headache pulse behind his temples. he knows katarina probably isn't having the time of his life either, and he has been attempting to be on his best behavior — he really has been. if it was any other scenario ( and if she was anyone else ), he would have made an excuse already. it's been two hours, two! that has to be a record somewhere... at the very least, it is, when it comes to felix. breaking a sort of personal record must be rewarded and as he leans back in his chair, his eyes search katarina's face, waiting for a moment she would pause, and he can interject. "so, i have a great idea. it's clear we deserve a break. and a treat." the boy begins, a grin spreading across his features, the telltale signs of mischief taking the place of previous boredom. "what about insomnia cookies? i'm sure it's open at this hour —- it will be my treat. and if you haven't tried their macadamia ones, you are missing out! we need to fix that asap !"

[robotae]

… 𝘓 𝘖 𝘈 𝘋 𝘐 𝘕 𝘎 : C O N T I N U E D !  

CONTINUED FROM [ @justsurvival ]

all things considered, if he had to pick between black and white, juwon would say the mission is a success. he has the intel ( in the form of a hard drive, burning a hole in his pocket ), and he is alive. is there more he could ask for ? though, he is smart enough not to voice any of those thoughts aloud. instead, he watches the tech agent put a hole through the floor with how much pacing he has been doing. has juwon ever seen him this stressed ? a part of him wants to not think of the blaring answer to why that is the case. with what he learned not so long ago — zakir's nervousness makes sense. the way he sounded over the earpiece once the car hit the water, and how he kept calling juwon's name just as the comms went out. knowing what zakir has gone through, that type of reaction is rational — though that does nothing to ease the pressure on juwon's chest. for the first time in maybe years, he feels guilty. much too akin to a child waiting to be reprimanded, and knowing that he has done something wrong. which is bullshit — he knows he didn't do anything wrong. he just had to make a split-second decision, and it paid off. it was the best way to evade the numerous mercenaries trailing him, and he had managed to lose his tail. some of it was due luck, and some of it was due to how long he could hold his breath underwater. though now, standing there, in the tech wing, littered with bruises and tracking water everywhere — juwon uncharacteristically does not feel like boasting. "it was the only way. it went — fine." the word is heavy on his tongue, and it takes a herculean amount of effort to meet zakir's eyes. what he doesn't expect, however, is the question that follows. no reprimands, no sarcastic remarks — but genuine worry. it somehow triples the guilt that's squeezing his heart. surprise flashes across his features, an attempt of his signature grin, muted, even to an untrained eye. "i'm alright. i swear." his words are softer than they normally would be. it feels like something fragile hangs in the air between them, and juwon does not have the heart to break it. "you know nothing can bring me down." an attempt at a joke, the question of medical help turns the grin sheepish. "... no. but- i am fine. nothing that needs their immediate attention." he suspects a few bruised ribs, and a grazed bullet wound from when he couldn't move fast enough. the blood is drying down now, which is the annoying part, for the pain is an afterthought. all things considered, this is one of his best days. going back to the reason for all of this, he takes the hard drive from his pocket, holding it out. water drips onto the floors. "i have an inkling you can make this work- even if it probably needs some rice."

[robotae]

… 𝘓 𝘖 𝘈 𝘋 𝘐 𝘕 𝘎 : A N S W E R E D !  

[ @ruindgod ] asked : cael licks dao's blood off his thumb // 😏

a hitch of breath, the widening of dao's pupils. his eyes are dark, to the point they look almost black. this close, cael might see the way the crimson swims inside them, hear how he holds his breath. his hand is slack in the angel's grasp, and he had been waiting to see what the hell was his plan once he grabbed it— though this- with so much hanging in the air between them, switches something inside his mind. "you like playing with fire... don't you?" his words are barely above a whisper, as he takes a step forward. turns his hand slightly so that his thumb brushes over his bottom lip. at first, the touch is gentle, testing. the smearing of the rest of the blood, the red against the plumpness of his lip, awakens something primal inside. something dangerous, something he shouldn't play with. desire pools low in his belly, and suddenly, he is pushing down his lip, asking for access inside. with the parting of his teeth, the soft pad of his thumb brushes over the sharp edges of his teeth, looking for that sharp pain, pushing and taking. in the next few seconds, he is hooking his thumb inside cael's mouth, pressing down on his tongue. "will you bite the apple, angel? do you like the taste of blood in your mouth?" another step forward, his leg, pressing in between cael's. dangerous. forbidden. alarm bells ring in his head. he doesn't care. the apple tastes all the sweeter now that he is so close. so fucking close. he can't stop himself, can't pull back. not when his heart thumps inside the cage that is his chest, not when cael looks at him through his lashes. not when he looks so fucking gorgeous, so fucking tempting. you'll be the end of me one day. he doesn't utter. instead, leans closer, close enough for his breath to brush over the side of his face. tilts his head, eyes not daring to leave cael's. it burns. how close they are. how warm it feels inside his mouth. how much he wants to lean forward, to bite into him, to eat him, until they are one. "or do you like the taste of me so much, you can't get away?"

[robotae]

… 𝘓 𝘖 𝘈 𝘋 𝘐 𝘕 𝘎 : A N S W E R E D !  

[ @ruindgod ] asked : " hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay ? " // azazel & jude !

his hands shake. they don't stop shaking. soot covers his skin and all of his clothes, staining the white shirt grey, and his jeans a darker color. small burns are littered through his arms, and he only realizes this because as he reaches out, they sting. pushing through it, his hands scramble to take hold of azazel, clutching onto his arms, trying to explain what happened. the pain isn't at the forefront of his mind, still taken away by the panic, with breaths, short and rapid, trying to speak through the thick of it. "someone — someone threw a — i gotta- i gotta go back, you don't- you don't get it —" jude, torn between pushing azazel away, so he can run back into the burning building, or collapsing into his arms, to pretend as if nothing happened. he had been inside only fifteen minutes ago, leaning over yet another circuit, music playing through his speakers as he was fixing another cybernetic, a special order for one of azazel's men. then, all of a sudden, there was a loud noise, something was thrown inside from the door, the only point of entry and exit of his workshop. the ball rolled, and rolled, until it exploded, a pulse of energy throwing him off his stool to the corner of the room. his back had made contact with the shelves, pain spread at the impact. however, his attention was focused on the object, and how quickly everything around it burst into flames. the next minutes were spent in a haze, trying to reach the fire extinguisher, trying to get up, trying to breathe — until there was a pair of arms lifting him up, pulling him away, around the source of the fire, and up the stairs, to outside, where there was clean air. when the haze cleared, it was azazel looking down at him, trying to get him to focus, to bring him back. "everything- everything i worked for is in there — " his robots, his equipment, his books, his journals, everything that remains of his parents. weak hands try to push him away, to go back inside, to try to save at least some of it. uncaring of the burns and the blood that sticks to his back. "i need to - i need to go inside, please —-" a sob wrecks through his frame, beginning to fall apart at the seams. "it can't- they can't all be gone."

[robotae]

[ a starter for @ruindgod ft. AZAZEL ]

the familiar buzz of tech in the workshop is comforting, a background noise that jude does not even realize is there. it's the electricity that crackles, both through numerous machines that are on, as well as the overlights that illuminate the entire floor. not that any of the undercity gets proper natural light, though he also works in the ground floor slash basement of an old building, which does not help. hence, the lights are almost always on. he is hunched over a motherboard, with another light shining down on the circuits over his shoulder as he tries to make it work, a pair of tweezers adjusting the cables just right. it's then that he hears the telltale noise of the door being opened, and waits until he is done with this section of the board before he raises his head. looks over at the visitor from above his precision glasses. the smell that wafts through the air is unmistakable. he has come bearing food.

the man in front of him is one feared by many, with various cybernetics all around his frame, and somewhat of a regular here. jude smiles at the familiar sight, eyes looking down at him to see if he is injured as he tends to be every now and then. however, what he sees on the man's expression is not pain, but a sheepish grin. he tells him that figuring out that he owed jude a few favors too many, he brought a bag of home-made, freshly cooked dumplings, and tells him to have a nice dinner before heading back out. it's all over so quickly that all jude can do is yell his thanks after him, before peering into the bag. oh, they look good, his mouth salivates at the smell. there is also definitely a few portions too many in that tupperware, and a quick glance at the clock tells him it's way past dinner-time. it's often that he loses track of the time, though he knows exactly what to do now.

it doesn't take long for him to close up the workshop, turn the lights to energy-saving mode, and wrap his long beige coat over himself, tightening the strap over his waist before grabbing the bag of food and rushing his own way out of there. azazel's place — or well, the demon headquarters, where he usually can find him, isn't too far from the workshop, and when he shows up at the door, they just greet him back and let him in. there's a skip to his step, his usual cheery demeanor even more cheerful as he walks through the intricate corridors, up the elevator, and then all the way to where he knows azazel to be working. a rap of his knuckles against the door, jude doesn't actually wait for a reply back before he pushes it open. "hiya- i got food!" he lets out in a sing song voice, a wide smile spread across his features as he makes his way through the office as if it's his own. plopping down the bag of food in front of the demon, he claps his hands together. "and they are home-made- do you know how hard it is to find food as good as this around here? i think rick's mom made them. please tell me you have utensils though — i forgot to bring some-"

[robotae]

a starter for @baukl0tze ft. CIARÁN

annoyance brims under the surface of eva's skin. it is ugly, though not to the extent that he feels more destructive than usual. just a string of fuck-ups from his employees, and one of the anti-organizations pushing their heads into stuff where they do not belong. most of those people have been already taken care of, and the rest are left alive to serve as an example to those who might dare to do it again. the blood on his knuckles washes down the drain, and he puts on one of the many extra shirts and suits already in his office.

it's later in the evening, and he knows what he needs. there is no question about it. doesn't take him long before he climbs into the seat of his black porsche, and drives to where he knows ciaran will be for the night. there's a pull between them — always has been. an addiction despite the centuries they have spent together. especially when daeva is uneasy like this, he wants to be near his husband, both to make sure he is alright, and to ground himself from this agitated state of mind.

stopping in front of the bar slash night club, he climbs out, throwing the keys to the valet before stepping inside. he looks like a million dollars, in his armani three piece suit, a businessman to those who wouldn't know better. he looks like just another human like this, someone who oozes power and status. having been here enough times now, they do not bat an eye before letting him inside.

long legs clad in dark slacks take him to the vip corner, from where he can see ciaran on the stage the best. ordering a neat macallan twenty-five whiskey, watches his husband on the stage. the sight makes something possessive rise up in his chest. and when it's time for a break, he gets up, and moves to the backstage.

the moment the younger demon is in sight, a hand wraps around his waist, and pulls him close, the other hand taking his cheek in the palm of his hand. his lips press against his, tongue slipping in, deepening the kiss. the hand on his cheek moves at the back of his head, pulling at the hair only slightly before he parts to gasp into his mouth. "missed you." quiet, for ciaran's ears only. "you look so fucking good up there."

[vig1lantnakia]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 : THE HUB, ON ISLAND. 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 : SAAD, NAKIA. 𝚃𝙾 : ???, █████, ADARSH. [ @mc-adarsh ]

Nakia is nowhere near a spiritual person. Their belief lies with technology and science, and if there is anything unexplainable, they poke at it with a Phillips screwdriver until they can figure it out, or let it bother them until they come up with an agreeable theory to a problem. This, however, the feeling they have that they know this person — is not one they can figure out as easily as switching the RAM from their computer. They let it fester for a few hours, before making their way to the other, attempting their best at looking non-threatening. With their average height and hunched-over posture, they rarely do. Nakia is the type of person you don't notice sitting at the corner of a cafe, or the subway. It often works in their favor. "Hey- Adarsh, isn't it?" The hacker starts, mulling over their words before speaking them into existence. The tips of their lips are curled in an attempt at a smile, though nothing genuine crossed their expression much since they mysteriously appeared on this island. Maybe they will get used to it eventually, though Nakia seriously doubts it's any time soon. "It's Nakia." They begin, a proper greeting, even if it feels wrong on their tongue. Have they done this before? At another time, and another place? "I was wondering... If you go by any other names?" The cat's out of the figurative box, and they attempt to clarify the odd question. "I could swear we met before — but the name Adarsh really does not ring a bell, for some reason."