#Syrus constantine

[dininimapentrumine]

Egoismul în 10 citate celebre

1.”Există un scop în toate lucrurile. Pentru a ajunge acolo, trebuie să te desparți de egoism.” — Constantin Brâncuși 2.”Cine trăiește numai pentru el, pentru alții este ca și mort.”-Publilius Syrus 3.”Egoism nu înseamnă ca cineva să trăiască aşa cum doreşte. Înseamnă a cere altor oameni să trăiască aşa cum acel cineva doreşte să trăiască.”-Oscar Wilde […]Egoismul în 10 citate celebre

[cassandra-rp]

Syrus ft. Tera.

[thelostpagesofportlyndon]

Old phone uploads: AU Lower class with Tera and Syrus

Au: Lower class.

Tera let a long sigh past her red lips. The cold air catching her breath and swirling it around. Her hair perfectly in place and a lush fur coat over her Scandolous red slit dress. The warm gun still in her pocket as she slipped down the alleyway to avoid the cameras. It was dark and drenched; the odor was somewhere between piss and vomit. Most of this area of london had sunk down. The lower end was just that; They left the damaged at the bottom.

The man in black came out of the shadows with a long blade; Tera's fingers ready to fire until her teal eyes glimpsed another shadow, He was so fast as his hand latched on the others wrist; a smooth moment twisting it back before his worn boot hit his back; pulling his arm and dislocating it; a scream leaving the alleyway. The lanky pale man twisting the dislocated and now broken arm that still held the knife; making the man stab himself in the back before getting off him and the man scrambling away; screaming and wailing.

Her 'hero' stood; stubble lined his jaw as well as blood and makeshift stitches that were all infected along his left cheek. One of his eyes cloudy and the other a pale blue; his hair long and black, matted. Dirty. He wore a mismatch of mens clothes. Three shirts all with holes in them; a dirty green jacket and jeans. The boots were two different ones in two different style. One lacked laces.  His eyes lingered for a moment before looking away towards one of the boxes, moving back and crawling inside.

She lingered; curiousity and sympathy in her eyes. She scooted down; peering into the dark box. "Thank you..." She spoke softly and he simply nodded. Her lips pursing... She tried to coax him from the shadows but he stayed hidden.

---

"Here." Tera spoke a bit more sternly as she placed the bag down outside the box; She wore black today. Her sunglasses hiding hee eyes as she waited until the tired man slid from his box. Peeking into the fast food bag. He hesitated for barely a second before caving as he sat, biting into the burger like a savage animal. In the light ; she found more scars and dirt but he was handsome. "What's your name...?" She asked softly. At least soft for her... "Syrus." He replied mid chew; she raised a brow... "Constantine..?" He paused before nodding. It was a old story. The constantine family was the richest one in town before it all went down hill...

"Tera..." She paused as she scooted down to be level with him. "I have and offer for you, Mr. Constantine..."

He paused; watching her curiously. "How would you like a job?" She smirked faintly and he raised a brow. "Doing what..?"  She smiled. "A bodyguard."

[lunaprism-rp]

Syrus Ft. Tera.

[kristie-rp]

closer look: x

[kristieconspiracy]

8 Ways to Say “I Love You”: 3/8

It makes no sense that his tie is suffocating him, because in reality he wears them all the time and yet never before has he felt so close to choking while wearing one. His hand is on the knot, constantly loosening and tightening as he clears his throat.

She's across from him in a black dress she might be comfortable in if they were anywhere else. She's shifting in her seat, uncomfortable in the room lit largely by candles and lights dimmed lower than they have to be, the view of the city at night to her back. His gaze keeps flitting to that as their meal is brought out, and from here he can see the park where she originally tripped him, working some magic or other. He wants to smile at the memory but it feels wrong, somehow, and he doesn't know why.

"Raven," he says, then pauses. Because this is ridiculous; this isn't them. This is pretentious and weird and he can't stop wondering why people come to places with some of the worst lighting imaginable to confess important things like 'I love you' and 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you'. "We should get out of here and maybe grab some donuts from Starbucks, or something."

The smile on her face is what he hoped he'd get from what he wanted to say, but not yet. Not until they're themselves again.

[thelostpagesofportlyndon]

5. "Have a good day at work."

Trigger warning: Murder, Sex, Violence, etc.

"Have a good day at work." Syrus sarcastically spoke with a grin as Tera walked past him, wrapped in her signature red dress and a black trench coat, Tera glancing over her shoulder with a smug on her red-stained lips. "You too~" She chimed.

---

Syrus adjusted his suit and rolled back his shoulders. He'd handed off the Constantine Company to his brothers for something more interesting. He was a murderous beast even if he hid it with class... His vampirism had been manageable but it was 'the nature of the species' according to Jonathan's girlfriend and topping that with the fact he'd been trained to fight... It was one of the secrets he kept close to his chest. Tera knew but didn't know the details, She thought it was voluntary.  Angeline knew more of the truth... There was a gap of time he disappeared that a lot of people didn't notice except for her.

The murder was something he knew he could handle and get away with and honestly, it was more comfortable than his office job...  

His task for the day was a woman who'd framed her spouse for her crimes. He knew the woman, vaguely. They'd bought stocks in his father's company but were always arrogant and rude at the events they attended.  He placed the dummy cellphone to his ear as he walked down the street. "Miss Myatt, I hope I'm not bothering you..."  He said softly, warmly.

"Who is this..?" The woman on the line asked.  Syrus letting out a soft laugh as he replied. "Syrus Constantine, I was hoping I could talk business with you for a moment. I'm near the penthouse; if it wouldn't be a bother..."  The tone changed instantly as she sweetened up. " Oh~ Of course, Come right up..."

---

Tera ran her fingers through her hair to achieve the appropriate amount of class and sexuality, wiping a small smear of lipstick off her bottom lip before stepping into the elevator as it arrived, purposefully letting her heel get caught on the grate and stumbling, falling into the arms of the older man in the elevator who caught her quickly, looking up at him coyly as her body pressed against his. "Oh my god, I am so sorry~! Thank you~!" She acted flustered as she adjusted herself and got her feet under her. The man hooked as his eyes trailed as she stepped to the other side of the elevator a little. "Not a problem... What floor?" He asked as the doors shut, Tera looked at him in silence for a moment as a small smile slid on her lips. "You tell me..." She said softly as the man's face turned red.

He paused before pressing one of the buttons, looking at her again.  "What's your name, beautiful..?"

"Sandy." She used a false name as she toyed with a strand of her hair, letting the trench coat fall off her shoulders as she watched him.  "And you, Handsome..?" She asked and he swallowed before speaking. "James..."  

---

Syrus sighed as the elevator had closed right as he walked in the lobby and opted to take the stairs rather than wait for it, of course, the fifth floor was a bit of a walk. He adjusted his tie as he knocked on the door to the penthouse apartment. As he expected, Miss Myatt was dressed in a skimpy little skirt and shirt that he honestly felt Tera would fill out better, She was a former trophy wife who'd taken her husband through the wringer not that he didn't deserve it... She wasn't the woman she once was but the rumors of her cheating with younger men didn't surprise him. She'd flirt with him in the past.   He kept a smile on his lips as he stepped inside.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Emily." He smiled as he closed the door behind him, looking around. "Your husband isn't around, is he?"  

"It's just me and you." She said with a grin and Syrus just simply smiled. "Perfect. I'd rather discuss this matter with you..." He spoke softly.

---  

The elevator ended up making a few wrong stops as Tera's back pressed against the buttons, The man's lips trailing along her neck and chest. Her hands running under his shirt to play along; Her red lipstick staining his shirt and as his hands pressed between her thighs she grabbed his hand, smirking. "Not here.." She teased and he let out a sigh, nodding as he ran his fingers through his hair. As the elevator hit the right floor, stepping out quickly, Tera's hand in his.

Tera darted along behind him, giggling. The two racing down the hallway as he fumbled with his keys to unlock the door, Her hand catching his suddenly as she looked at his wedding ring and he shook his head. "She won't be here." He stated, At least, he believed that was the case as he opened the door to the empty apartment, pulling Tera into his arms before pushing her back against the door to close it, His hand pushing between her legs as she was formulating the rest of her plan...  Her eyebrow cocking as she spotted a familiar jacket on the back of a chair and a drop of blood spotted on the clean wood floor.  

"You're a dirty man, aren't you..?" She chimed teasingly, He didn't catch her true meaning behind that as he chuckled. "I can't help myself..."   She pushed him back playfully as she watched behind him for a moment, Her eyes speaking for her as she stepped back suddenly and covered her mouth with a false gasp. James tensing as he turned around, expecting his wife. Instead, Syrus stood with a handtowel, wiping his bloodied hands.

The two of them already had put together the full story and decided to play with the man.  James's demeanor fading as he snarled. "You were supposed to be done already! What am I paying you for?"   Syrus cocked a brow as he rested the bloodied handtowel over his shoulder as he would if he was cooking, folding his arms. "You weren't supposed to bring some floozy here." He teased.  Tera held back the scoff, playing dumb and confused as if she suddenly realized what she figured out when she first saw Syrus's coat and the blood drip on the floor. "Y-you hired someone to murder your wife?!" She acted up a storm as she shouted and James moved, Slamming her rougher against the wall as he covered her mouth.   "Shut up." He snapped, looking at Syrus. "I'll give you an extra million if you kill her too. Get rid of both of them." He snapped quickly. Tera pretending to be wide-eyed as she began to hit against him, holding back. Syrus nodding as he walked over, taking over as he pinned Tera. "Transfer the money, first."

James paused, scoffing. "fuck." He mumbled as he pulled out his phone, Syrus waiting until his own phone buzzed before lingering. James staring at him, glaring. "What? Do it already!"  

Tera finally snorted, bursting into laughter. "Really? My life is only worth and extra grand?"  Syrus shifted, his grip softening as his fingers slid along her slide and he leaned in, kissing her gently. "Eh. I figured I could use it to get you a nice Christmas present..."

The confusion on James face faded to terror as he stared at the two, "W-what- ?!" Syrus dully glancing at him. "Unlike you, I have no intention of killing my wife..." He teased. James's eyes were wide, stepping towards the door only for Tera to lift her gun that she'd slipped out while Syrus 'pinned' her, firing and hitting him in the side of the head. The silencer keeping it quiet as his blood splattered across the wall and he crumpled to the floor.

"He hired me to kill his wife for framing him for the fake checks..." "She hired me to kill him for trying to get her in trouble for it." The two laughed, kissing.

[cassandra-rp]

Syrus Constantine ft. Tera

[cassandra-rp]

Tera + Syrus

[cassandra-rp]

Syrus Constantine

[cassandra-rp]

Grayson Constantine

[thelostpagesofportlyndon]

Past life: War

"Levi - Wait! Uh - I-Excuse me..." Nimue raced behind him, snatching her hand back that'd reached for him as he began to turn. "Nimue..?" He glanced over his armor-clad shoulder with surprise as her fingers gingerly held out the engagement ring he'd given her. "Why..?" He stared at her in confusion. "I need you to take it and promise me you'll give it back tomorrow!" He paused in confusion before it dawned on him. It was childish - But the sadness and worry in her eyes weren't unjustified. Levi smirked a little as he leaned in, kissing her forehead as he plucked the ring, placing it on his pinky finger. "I'll give it back. I promise... You need to promise me you'll be there to take it." She nodded quickly; Swallowing roughly. " I - I promise."

"Hold strong!" Nimue shouted above the chaos to her half of the troops; They'd found out about the 'secret' attack planned on the royal family. Her rapier twisting in her hand as she blocked another swing, stepping back before slicing the man's neck with a smooth motion and using her gauntlet to block another blow, Her sword twisting and skewering the man, pushing him off her blade and shaking it off. She looked like she'd crawled out of hell with dirt and blood covering her white and black armor, mud-caked on her pants and boots. Cuts and bruises stung but she ignored it as she got to the center of the battlefield; scanning it. She saw a few men in armor in the same colors but reversed; Levi's men. She hadn't seen him, however...

Her concern lingered in her heart but she buried it to focus as a sharp sting of a cut hit her leg. She shifted, arming the man behind her in the throat before kicking his shin, swearing as she felt the pain shoot through her own leg but manages to knock him down and as he fell, he took her with her grabbing her leg and yanking on it, she shifted and let her knee land on his chest, slamming her gauntlet to his throat as his hands reached for her own. The struggle swiftly ended by another woman's sword through his head. The blonde woman with teal eyes paused and offered a hand up. Her armor matched neither side but she simply smirked and disappeared as quickly as she appeared, following after a man with long dark hair on the opposing side. The chaos - She didn't have the time or energy to worry too much about the woman. 1, 10, 15, 35... She lost track of how many lives she'd ended. The rain-soaked her through and with a rumble of thunder the chaos abruptly stopped with one last man hitting the ground, The morning sun on the horizon.

Nimue stared at the battlefield for a moment before slowly everyone cheered; they'd won. Her heavy legs dragging her towards the hill; trembling all over. Her sword firmly gripped in her hand as she confirmed their victory in the sunrise. She slowly lifted her sword sliding it back into place as she began walking towards the east side where Levi was meant to be leading from; Her heavy eyes frantically glancing over bodies as she walked... The sound of a horse coming up behind her finally cut through by a hoarse ragged voice.

"Nimue!" Despite the pain, he jumped off the horse, his arms slipping around her as quickly as her's did his. The two of them wrapped in one another's embrace until the pain of there respective injuries became more then they could bare, stepping back a little. Levi's fingers brushing the mud from her cheek gingerly as he leaned in, pecking her lips and smiling softly. The two of them slowly begin to laugh...lt was simply the only way to express the respective relief they felt. "Let me help you.." Levi took Nimue's hand firmly as he helped her up into the wagon that was taking everyone back to the barracks... He found and empty spot and sat down, vaguely blushing as Nimue made herself at home in his arms...Her tired head resting on his chest, his fingers taking hers; slipping the ring back on her finger. "Promised..." He whispered within a soft yawn...

[cassandra-rp]

Syrus Constantine

[thelostpagesofportlyndon]

Possible!Reset: Angeline.  (Because let’s be fair she’s a complicated mess of confusion)

Kings City. The east coast island city was known as ‘The city of diamonds’ or ‘Diamond city’ by most. The massive island seemed like a man made maze of skyscrapers. The lights sparkling within the midnight sky. It was a hectic place to live as swarms of millions flooded every corner but it was and easy place to disappear… That was what made it so appealing.

“...Again.” The dark hair man started calmly as he braced himself and watched the girl in front of him. She was sixteen and had dropped out of nowhere and despite his contacts and resources he couldn’t find a single thing about her. She insisted on learning how to fight and after enough badgering he caved in. She was a natural yet there was something unnatural about her...

Angeline clenched her bandaged fists as she nodded, falling into position before striking. He blocked two of her blows before she easily backflipped, kicking him in the face and knocking him back a few steps as she went at him again,  He let himself fall back from the blow and shifted, kicking her foot out from under her before coming up, punching her in the stomach and grabbing her and easily throwing her across the floor.

Angeline flipped herself upright easily and as he threw a punch she caught his fist. She was half his size. She’d put on some weight but when they’d met she was clearly malnourished, skin and bones. She was a little shorter than him and although she’d worked on her body she didn’t have the muscle he did but she easily held his punch back. There’d been a few occasions like this… She seemed above average with her strength and even after hurting herself she was back on her feet faster than most. He brushed it off as her tenacity but he found himself wondering what her deal was…

He shifted to try to throw another blow but she twisted her arm around his, leveraging herself before throwing a punch with her non-dominant hand. It threw him off a bit as it hit him square in the jaw.  It hurt but he wasn’t the kind to care as he laughed it off and backed up a bit. “Nice move.” He stated as he rubbed his face.

“Thanks, Desmond.” She smiled a little bit as she leaned forward a little, taking a couple deep breaths before straightening again and another voice filled the gym.  “I’m going to tell Anastasia your cheating on her~” Damien, Desmond’s younger brother chimed as he walked in.  Angeline narrowing her eyes at him… He was so - chaotic.   Of course her entire history of human interaction was her ‘mother’ who grew her in a test tube… So perhaps his personality wasn’t so odd.

Desmond grimaced a little. “She’s not - It’s not like that. Anastasia is in Lyndon anyways - I haven’t seen her in a few years…” 

“You still got it bad for her, right?”  Damien smirked and Desmond moved, punching him in the shoulder with quite a good intent behind it.  Damien wincing a little but brushing it off as he punched Desmond’s shoulder back. Desmond smirking a little bit. “Not as bad as you’ve got it for Angeline.” He teased and Damien’s face tinged red. “Shut up.”

Angeline felt her face tint red a little bit but simply shrugged. She saw them as nothing more then friends…  After all. Soulmates required a soul and she wasn’t entirely sure if she even had one of those and furthermore. She was a hazard - She knew they’d find her eventually. It’s why she rejected anyone getting too close - The blonde singer she’d met, Desmond, Damien, everyone.

The buzz of her watch was what snapped her out of her thoughts as she smiled faintly. “Ah...I’ve gotta go. Thank you for your time, Desmond.” She smiled, bowing slightly.   Desmond blinking. “You don’t have to do that.” He stated again as he usually did...Angeline had some quirks that she blamed on where she grew up. A formality that’d been trained into her that she wasn’t sure how to quit. “Sorry.” She apologized as she usually did before grabbing her bag, dashing out as quickly as she’d appeared.

Desmond sighed, rubbing his arm. “Ow. I’m scared to know what it’d feel like if she wasn’t holding back…”   He added once she was out of ear shot.  Damien tilting his head a little bit as his gaze followed after her. “I talked to Jackson - That kid from high school? Turns out that’s who she ran into the other day. He even thought something was up with her.”

---

Angeline let out a sigh of relief as she walked into her shoebox apartment. Her fingers quickly fastened several locks on her door before sliding a chair in front of it that had a flower pot sitting on it. It was paranoia - she was smart enough to know that. But, it made her feel better as she cleared her tiny apartment before walking into the bathroom, pulling her hair down and letting it fall over her shoulders. It was long - she’d never really done anything with it since she was created. Her dusty blonde hair rested at her waist and was fairly straight. Her green eyes reflected back at her as she began changing.- opting for a black sweater and a pair of torn leggings. She put her sneakers back on instinctively and double checked that her bag was ready to go as it was part of her routine at night.

She had to be ready to run again… She sighed, sitting down and turning on the tv and flicking to the news station as she absentmindedly started braiding her hair and anxiously bounced her leg.

“This is Channel 12 News and my name is Agatha Bradey.” The woman on the screen smiled as the intro played before she continued. “Heron, The titan of pharmaceutical development is currently taking on a new battle…  Julius Constantine of Constantine Enterprises has been discussing purchasing the company for a whopping 1,616.11 Billion dollars. Julius hasn’t spoken to the media but one of his sons, Leonard Constantine said that he’d be taking charge of Heron if the purchase goes through.”

Angeline paused for a moment as she pursed her lips… She’d recalled seeing the man on her screen once at a Heron event - A slight hope lingering in her chest. He seemed nice. Maybe - they’d do better?

Her optimism fading as quickly as it came through as the loud knock fell on her door and she jumped to her feet and hesitated for a minute before stepping closer, gripping her own elbow as she carefully walked to the door and delicately slipped the peephole open, peeking through.

Before her eyes could even focus - the door exploded inwards and knocked her back into her bookcase, her mirror crashing to the floor and shattering as she felt her ears ringing and her vision distorted for a moment as she clutched her head before shifting back, grabbing her bag and stumbling towards her bedroom, slamming the door behind her and locking it as she felt her chest tighten but she attempted to calm her breathing as she ran to her window to hoist it open and lifting herself up and out onto the fire escape, closing the window and running down the fire escape as quickly as she could - her vision still blurring and slowing her down as she rubbed her forehead a little. “Fuck.”  She trembled as she pulled the gun from her bag, loading it as she heard the footsteps behind her and above her on the metal echoing. She rounded the third floor as she saw another patrol on the stairs.

The patrol was wearing black armor that was lined with a blue color, A stylized H on the armor and most of them had guns.  She aimed for a minute but knew she didn’t have enough bullets for the ten she counted - four above, six below.   The armor meant that her shot had to be perfect or it wouldn’t matter. Her eyes glancing below to the vast drop to the main road - cars buzzing by below, lifting herself up as she swung her body over the railing and letting herself drop down one level, catching the railing, barely.

She winced in pain as her weight yanked her arms and she felt her hand slice on part of the metal railing as she took a deep breath and let go again, catching the next one.  She swung her body inwards and spotted the tranquilizer dart as it flew past her and barely missed. She looked at the tall van that was incoming and swung herself, letting go. 

Her luck seemed to be good as she landed on top of the van, her shoulder taking the blow but catching herself before she fell off. The busy traffic making the van keep moving despite the driver clearly hearing her falling on top and a sigh leaving her lips as she held on, glancing back to see the men fading into the distance.

---

She guessed it was about an hour before the man pulled off onto a smaller street and slowed down. She jumped off as he stopped at a red light and quickly shifted into a large group of people walking and following them as she tried to come up with a plan…

The black car sliding up beside her she didn’t really pay much mind to until someone whistled - She thought it was for someone else as she glanced back. A woman sitting in the car with blonde hair and red lips. Her teal eyes focused on Angeline, clearly.  “You.” She pointed as she motioned her to come over… Angeline was cautious but this didn’t seem like Heron. Maybe the woman was just - asking for directions or something? She was in the backseat though… She kept a distance from the car but did walk a bit closer. “Can I help you..?” She tried to hide her fear and stress as she spoke. The woman’s teal eyes narrowed.  She was gorgeous and looked like a model or something… Angeline found it difficult to understand why she was trying to gain her attention.  “My husband would like to have a word with you, Andurgor. Your not the easiest person to find.” She chimed casually.

“And who’s your husband..? A-And how do you know who I am?” She tightened her fists as she stepped further back.

“Syrus Constantine… It’s up to you. You can keep running or let him help… I really don’t care.” She leaned back a little bit as she watched her. The glimpse of a Heron van was what made her nod and the woman motioned for the other door as Angeline ran around the car, hopping in.  It was luxurious and the woman seemed to match in a dress she had a feeling was equal value to the car.  She extended her manicured hand as Angeline got in and shut the door. “Tera Constantine.”  Angeline hesitated, her own chipped black manicure taking hers as she shook it. “Angeline….Although. You know that...apparently.” She awkwardly stated as she rested her bag between her legs and a few books falling out of it.

Tera smirked as she reached forward and picked up a bottle of vodka and poured two shots as she spoke. “Oh, Intella is going to adore you.” She joked

[kristie-rp]

Living

DENMARK, NOW

The armour is hers long before she dons it, chain mail interlinked beneath an expensive lightweight plate. It isn’t often she requires the added protection, but as the lady knight goes down beneath an invader, Tera finds she’s grateful for it. She’s marked as neither friend nor foe to anyone on the field, her armour silver and crimson instead of black and white or gunmetal and blue, and it has given most of the fighters pause she can take advantage of. She drives her sword - stolen from some fallen fool after she lost hers, unevenly balanced, but easy enough to work with - into the head of the lady knights attacker, killing him instantly, and grins wickedly as she helps her up. It only takes a moment, and then she’s off again, following black hair in gunmetal-and-blue armour through the crowd.

“Constantine! Syrus Constantine!”

She can see his shoulder stiffen beneath the plate armour, and can see the way he straightens.

She watches him turn.

AMSTERDAM, JANUARY

She looks out of place there, all pristine blonde hair and willowy limbs and supple, eye catching curves. In her gown and glittering jewellery, she’s the brightest thing in the place, and it’s not ideal, but she settles at the bar alongside the paper-white man with his glass of crimson wine regardless. It’s too feminine a drink for him, and while he’s shooting her a sceptical look - what woman comes to an actual gentlemen’s establishment, unless they’re a particularly ambitious prostitute - she smiles winningly and waves the bartender down.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she says, and her voice is husky and enticing. The server delivers quicker than if one of the usual men had ordered, and she sips at the wine. “Fruity,” she notes aloud, refusing to make a face that matches her distaste. “Is this your usual?”

“I appreciate a variety of drinks,” he says defensively, and her lips curl into a smile. “Anything less would be boring.”

She takes at him, slowly lowers her glass. She pours temptation into her smirk, and leans in a little bit closer, the better to encourage his advances. “I’ve never been a fan of boring, myself,” she says.

He swallows.

DENMARK, NOW

She can see him swallow, and adjusts her grip on the sword. He does the same.

“You can’t leave me alone for five minutes, can you?”

She laughs, letting it ring out. It is lost in the clash of metal around them, but their little space - their circle - leaves it hanging. “You have taken me on quite the whirlwind tour, Syrus, but it needs to end. I have a job to do.”

“So do I.”

She gestures, hand sweeping out across the crowd. “Look around, my lord. Your army is going to lose to the lady knight and her lover and their army. The least I can do is make sure you don’t have to live with the failure.”

His shoulders tense, then hunch in. “You mean to kill me this time, then.”

She stops, doesn’t immediately answer. She pauses - she swallows.

PRAGUE, MARCH

She has a dagger strapped to her thigh when she joins him in his rooms. It is an alloy of iron and Byzantine and adamantium, sure to kill anyone and anything if she can deal a traditionally fatal blow. The heart is a classic, and it’s her intention here, a delicious kind of irony in it - stab the seduction victim in the heart, put an end to the romance here.

“Care for a drink?” He asks. His voice is deep and smooth, still the same, just as the last time they met. It sends a thrill of electric energy down her spine, knowing she will be one of the last people - the last person, even - to hear that voice.

“That depends. Is it going to be strong?”

“The strongest,” he says, and smiles at her like she’s supposed to be charmed.

But she’s met men with better qualities than him and survived their presence. She survives his that night, too, drinking with him, letting him drink another, more, most, until he drifts off on top of the covers. She leans over him like she’s tucking him in, and draws the knife. There is a soft Schlick as the metal scrapes against the sheath, and she raises it to strike - there is a spot between his ribs that she can get the blade through, and when she does, it will pierce his heart. He will die.

His hand catches her wrist before she can complete the act. A heavy silence hangs over them.

“A gift for me?” he whispers, shattering the quiet. “You shouldn’t have.”

She scoffs quietly. “With the price on your head, I absolutely should.”

“Then surely you should invite a little challenge,” he says, “make it a real worthwhile pursuit. Let me survive tonight, let me show you a good time. Let me convince you I deserve to live.”

“No one deserves to live,” she retorts. Her breath is warm against his skin.

“Let me be the first, then. If you aren’t convinced, you are free to chase me to your hearts content. It will be a game.”

She hesitates. “A game that ends in your death.”

He nods. “Or you failing at your job.”

She pauses. The idea is tempting - it is not often she is challenged, and for the price on his head, she expects more of a challenge. A cold pick up at a bar, a few months of courting, a night of revelry turned red with blood - it’s boring for her. She can not deny the temptation. She withdraws the blade, slips it back into its sheath.

His teeth are too white and his grin too wide, and beneath the thrill of a real challenge, she feels that she may have made a mistake.

DENMARK, NOW

“You don’t want to kill me,” Syrus says, voice filled with wonder and something that she takes to be amusement. Tera raises her sword defensively, and he shifts back, out of reach. “No, Tera - really. You don’t want to see me die. I’m observing, not telling: I would be dead by now if you did. You aren’t incompetent.”

She grits her teeth and rocks on her feet, shifting her stance. “Irrelevant,” she bites out; “my desires are irrelevant. The bounty can cover travel overseas. For multiple people.”

LONDON, BEFORE

Tera’s family lose their fortune and most of their dignity when her father is accused of committing a series of rapes and murders in the city. He gets off with no charge because of a technicality and a dubious connection with a judge, but it ends up not mattering.

The Michiligan ancestral home burns to the ground on a Saturday afternoon. Tera isn’t inside because she is spying on fencing lessons that the neighbours children are terrible at. She hears the scream of “fire!” when they are wrapping up, and would have ignored it if not for the smoke.

Her jaw drops and she watches as the building burns, disbelieving. She can hear screams from within, can see some servants scrambling to escape. A maid streams out the door with a cloak of flame clinging to her dress; she stops and drops and rolls until the fire starves. The smoke is heavy in the air above her home; she knows that it will have choked anyone upstairs to death.

Both of her parents would’ve been up there. Her father deserved it, but her mother doesn’t - didn’t. Tera has no doubt that that makes a difference; women burn as well as men, and she will be dead, too.

“Lady Tera!” calls a servant, clinging to a bundle in her arms.

Tera collects herself, drags her jaw shut with a click, and dashes away any potential tears. “Yes?”

“We - I couldn’t save your parents. However. I - Jeremy. Here.” She shifts her arms, and Tera pays attention to the bundle for the first time.

A slot covered arm flails and escapes the blanket, and Tera swoops in quickly. Her baby brother, not even four years old - he is alive. “Thank God,” she murmurs, and examines him with dedicated fervour. “They sought to burn father?”

The servant swallows and nods. “Everything is gone, ma’am. Not - we barely have our lives.”

London is a death sentence for their family, Tera knows this. She is nineteen and staring at her baby brother and his nanny, and she is going to have to get them out of this trap somehow. She is Lady Michiligan now - she is the one who carries her families legacy.

She is their greatest chance of surviving, and she will do anything to achieve this.

DENMARK, NOW

He stops moving, hand on his sword. For all the chasing, for the game he suggested - she’d never said why she had any interest in the income his death would provide her. “Travel,” he says, disbelieving. “I’m to die so you can travel.”

She lowers the sword with a huff. “Please - you’ve been running from your responsibilities since long before I met you.”

“I’m leading my parents soldiers to war,” he points out, disbelieving. Tera scoffs.

“You haven’t fooled me. What little lordling plays at warfare when he could be safe at home, unless they’re running from something?”

He stares at her - peers, really, searching as though she offers an answer he does not already have. “Are you talking about me?”

She sputters, and swings her sword upright again. “How dare you imply that I am as useless as a lord!”

“A lady, then,” he corrects himself, too dismissive for her liking. “A lady who sought to escape? Or - no, you were always eager for this, but not desperate. Not until now. You had a source of income before - previous murders? - but it is starting to run out. Or whatever you’re running from… tell me, Tera, what are you running from?”

She thinks of a small boy, nine years old and falling on the unnerving side of charming. People are uneasy around her family and always have been; but her family home has been in ashes for half a decade and the peasantry are often restless.

“My,” she starts, then halts, then takes a breath. Her sword point sinks into the ground and she slumps, tired of the weight and bored of pretending. “I have a baby brother, and the idiot peasants are weeks away from attacking what remains of my family. At most.” She lifts her gauntletted hands, tries to drag them through her hair and scowls when it hurts. “I can’t let him die, too. I refuse to let the peasantry win.”

Syrus is gaping at her like she’s just suggested something impossible. She’s unarmed and sets her hands on her hips, ready to get defensive. Before she does –

– the clash of metal against metal, and she’s dimly aware of a sudden ache in her shoulder. Syrus has grabbed her, tugged her against him, raised his blade to meet someone - something - else. There’s a singing crash, one, two three, and the other is disarmed. She can tell from the thud of metal on grass.

She twists out of Syrus’ arms and grabs her own sword again - the poorly balanced one that her aching arms are protesting - and eyes the man who attacked. He’s wearing the same armour as Syrus, gunmetal and blue, and he must have taken her for a threat and leapt to his lords defense. It’s admirable, but thanks to Syrus, he is disarmed and gaping, staring at them. “Why -?”

She doesn’t hesitate to pierce a gap between the plates of his armour. When faced with an unarmed nobody, she doesn’t think twice about killing him.

“He was unarmed,” Syrus protests immediately, and Tera scoffs.

“Anyone who aims for the back deserves to die,” she says, “and no, I don’t. You’re correct.”

It takes him a moment to catch on. “You don’t want to kill me?”

“I don’t want you dead,” she corrects. She does not address whether she would prefer to be the cause of his death – she still wants to be there for his last breath. She’s just less certain what that means.

He stares at her. She stares back, chewing on her lip.

“I want you to live,” she murmurs at last.

Syrus smiles.

(BETWEEN)

In April, they come to a rest in Paris. There, he chokes on a baguette while she looks on over lunch. It could be fatal. She saves him, though, drawing polite, surprised applause from the staff of the restaurant. She turns to harangue them in stilted French, proud and confident and haughty. They get a refund. Syrus lives.

In May, she catches up with him on the edge of Berlin. He’s speaking fluent German with a man in full armour; she looks on skeptically and, when they’re done, seduces the details of the conversation from someone she supposes is a knight. She catches him in the midst of them, ruining the ambush he has planned, and smirks as he threatens her with execution. Syrus lives.

In June, she finds him in a place full of snow despite the summer months. Someone misplaces her coat – she will not admit to losing it – and it is Syrus who keeps her warm, taking her to bed in front of a roaring fire, where they lose their clothes and any claim to virginity, if they hadn’t already. Syrus lives.

In July – well, you get the idea.

Syrus lives.

LONDON, LATER

“Is this truly everything you own?”

“No need to sound so skeptical,” Tera retorts hotly, a flush crawling up her neck beneath lead-lined makeup. Her dress is a soft shade of blue that doesn’t suit her personality at all, something Syrus has voiced multiple times since she purchased it.

(“That’s the point,” she had said last time, and laughed off his offer to fix it so it wouldn’t come up again.)

“It’s a long journey, is all. I wouldn’t want Jeremy to be bored without his toys.”

“Nancy has assured me that Jeremy’s toys are already in his cabin,” Tera says, setting down the last of her bags and rolling her shoulders. She is used to travelling; the heaviest thing she owns is her silver and red armour, and the sword Syrus bought her. It is iron, Byzantine and adamantium; it matches her dagger perfectly. She still isn’t convinced he didn’t steal the dagger to copy the design, but she cannot prove anything, and she was never aware of it being away from her side.

“And yours?”

She snorts, reaching blindly for his hand. He grabs it, and she squeezes it once. “My toys are right here,” she says. From her, it’s practically endearment.

[kristie-rp]

                                                                                        Tera Michiligan

Hey did you know you’ve got your eyes on a suicide prize?           With a flick of my wrist I’ll twist your words around .                     You think you’re the ace but whose got the upper hand now?                             Tell Me Where It Hurts - Halestorm

29 + human (resurrected) Marksmanship, knife mastery, flexibility, sexual prowess Hitwoman

A long, long time ago, Isao took pity on Tera’s shattered soul, and pieced it back together. He allowed her some control over what he allowed her to be capable of, and one thing she demanded was that the longer she lived, the less she would feel, and the more she would remember. The two would be a compromise - for every previous life and death she recalled, a little more emotion would fade, and at the end of it, there would be nothing left to lose and everything to gain. She did this for the sake of vengeance that she achieved quickly, and Isao, curious to see what would happen, allowed it.

By now, dozens of lifetimes have passed by, and Tera is something borderline. She does not feel enough to be considered entirely human, but resurrected is a not entirely accurate term for something that is almost entirely a class of its’ own. As a child in England, this did not phase her; she displayed numerous sociopathic tendencies, including little care for the harm she could do to others. In fact, she was curious more than anything else, and enjoyed pushing the limits. The family lawyer, a man she remembers only as Neville, pushed the family to move Tera somewhere more isolated, and this was something Tera’s parents agreed to much easier than they should have. Neville taught Tera everything new she now knows about manipulation - and ensured she understands what men want, and what weapons can do. His sister would be her first kill, but he never turned to the police. She used a weapon that he gave her, after all, and he’d have to explain how he’d been nurturing her to be something dangerous, something he could profit from - well, the joke was on him, because Tera attended finishing schools that doubled as boarding schools, and made it on her own quickly working as a hitwoman straight out of high school. She specialised in honeypot jobs that allowed her to take advantage of the weakness of men, and their willingness to be seduced, but she would work with more stealthy operations if required. Her one rule was no teams.

In her mid twenties, she made what might have been a career-ending mistake and teamed up with too many people at once. Arndt had valuable connections in the weapons industry, and she was too eager to take advantage of them as long as he was interested in her. King offered an easy route between Blacklight and Port Lyndon, something Tera saw endless use for in her profession. And, in the meantime, she’d heard word that Syrus Constantine would be a target in the near future - and the name stood out enough that she sought him out before the hit was put out. For several months, she juggled a relationship with each of the three men, until it no longer benefited her to do so - and until she learned she was pregnant.

Her pregnancy gave her little pause. She worked honeypot jobs for as long as she wasn’t showing, and then once she was, moved onto distance jobs that involved a gun from another room, someone the victim never saw. She didn’t enjoy these jobs as much, largely because they weren’t as challenging. Nonetheless, she maintained her distance from the various living men who could’ve been the father, ignored the memory of the dead men who might have been so lucky, and eventually gave birth to a beautiful baby girl in London, one she named Blaise.

As a mother, Tera is far from ideal. She takes Blaise with her to various hotel rooms as long as she’s well enough to travel between cities, and focuses more on athletic and survival-related skills than academic skills. Eventually, she enrols Blaise in a boarding school, and returns to Port Lyndon.

There, she meets Syrus again, now with an actual hit out on him, and an old trap springs to life. After all, Isao has never been interested in the absence of emotion - and he is easily persuaded towards romance when it might prove entertaining. Tera has no idea of this; she only knows that the idea of Syrus’ death builds a pain in her chest where a heart should beat, and she has always been inclined towards a selfish desire to never experience pain again.