#emmysavoya

[cyberbonded]

where: nsa offices who: @emmysavoya

saskia isn’t sure if it’s the kronos spine in her back or just her being extremely conscious of it that makes her sit so damn ramrod straight. she can’t help it. she can’t even remember so much as slouching even once in the last three years. it, at least, gives the image of perfect professionalism as she sits in a nsa conference room across from emerald savoya. “like i said, officer savoya, what happened at the gala was unfortunate, but the answer is simple. the twins cheated our extensive and rigorous background checks. that’s the only answer as to what happened.”

[byreticence]

where: cecil's home who: @emmysavoya

it’s not often cecil brings his work home with him. less often that he lets anyone he works with into his home. emerald savoya remains the exception not the rule. the people he trusts are so few and far between there are only two; she’s one of them. he knows she would never betray him. that innate fear of being consumed by the will and desire of another person doesn’t exist when he’s with her. so he lets her in to come and go as she pleases because she would never abuse the privilege. he sets a plate of roasted chicken breast and garlic potatoes in front of her before he sits next to her on the long black sofa - an array of reports spread in front of them. “you know you’re allowed to take a break.” he doesn’t have to point it out yet he stills does, as if she still needs his permission to do things others wouldn’t think twice about. “did you see your therapist after the gala?”

[fearspecter]

when: 7 january 2040 where: buchanan's annual gala who: @emmysavoya

toying with the broken handcuff on his wrist, otto rolls his head to one side on the stone bench he's sprawled out over as emmy approaches. he supposes it was inevitable she'd be doing check ins throughout the night, married to her work the way she is, though he'd hoped seeing her with the big bad skull man would mean she'd forget about otto for the night. "uh ohhhh. who snitched?" he snickers, no attempt made to hide the fact that he's high. at least it means he's in a good mood, means he's not causing problems that need to be fixed or punished. "i've been on my fourth best behavior tonight. don't feel so worried, ossifer. i swear i'm behaving. the bestest boy in the whole wide fucking world." a giggle escapes him and with a groan, otto pulls himself upright through core strength alone while fishing his vape pen out and taking another hit. "do you ever take a break?"

[cynicid]

for: @emmysavoya. date: january 7, 2040. location: buchanan’s gala.

the news of the superserum punctuates the evening’s proceedings in ways that are only applicable to the wealthy and famous: a reminder of the power held by those with the money to spare and a catalog of ideas to buy from. zayid wishes that meeting emerald again could have been under less severe circumstances seeing how rare the opportunity to talk to her has become in recent months. 

“seeing you these days is like winning the grand prix,” zayid quips dryly in lieu of a greeting before shooting her a smile. “i’ve dropped by your office four or five times over the last two weeks and your co-workers always said you weren’t available.”

crazy how fast time flies when you’re busy handling—does he even want to know what emerald does for a living? probably not. he knows enough (or not, depending on your point of view) about cecil royce to be intimidated by the whole department under his direction. “or maybe they just know i’m terrified of your boss.”

[byreticence]

eye contact, especially of a prolonged nature, is one of those things cecil’s trained himself to hold. a necessary evil become a very effective tool to be used in his work. intimidating supers is hard to do and, physically, cecil doesn’t present as someone remotely capable of doing just that. but he’s never had to worry about that with emerald; people pleaser that she is, he’s only ever had to simply ask things of her and wait for the results to show themselves. it’s more than a bit manipulative, he supposes, but it’s necessary. it helps her keep moving forward.

“good.” cecil dips his head slightly in an acceptance of how she’s pulled herself back together, back down to earth. it lets him look away though not for long. her question comes and he’s not surprised by it; he’ll hear it from more than one person tonight. straightening, cecil looks back to her though his expression is as impassive as ever. “no. only chatter of possibilities but nothing to suggest they were this far along in their work.” to the point of human trials? there’s plenty riding on tonight. “keeping an ear near to their scientists will be priority number two for tonight. i want to know what they’re saying, what they’re thinking. you’re friendly with one of them - zayid, correct?”

In the moment, a five feels impossible. A five is simmering neutral, something a tiny vial with the potential of producing new superhumans does not warrant. Emerald keeps her eyes on Cecil -- brown to bright blue, can't stray for the fear of losing the count of her breath -- and counts. One. (So many things can go wrong.) Two. Three. (People are depending on her to do her job and with empathy.) Four.

Hold.

Albeit small, Emerald nods to his request and flexes her fist, clenching her manicured fingers as she counts upwards to seven. Eventually she deflates, slow and deliberate with her tongue to the roof of her mouth. "For you," she repeats softly through her exhale. "Of course I can do it for you."

Yet, a thought still tickles the back of her throat. "Did you know? That he was going to present a superserum tonight."

[stpeters]

location: nsa hq closed to @emmysavoya​​ ! -- emmy.

the atmosphere at nsa has been . . . rather strange since the incident at buchanan’s ball. the hallways of nsa are quieter than usual, and that’s not unexpected by any means. there are many who were at the event, themself included, and some others that have lost close ones who had attended. and though they try their best to put on a brave face for everyone around them, it is so hard sometimes, especially when all they can still see whenever they close their eyes is people stumbling over each other in panic. 

it’s mostly why they’ve asked emmy if she’d like to have lunch with them today, because being around her always helps calm their nerves — she’s the next best thing besides good pastry, which they also happen to have with them. they knock twice before pushing their office door open, and holds up the bag in their hand as they meet her eyes. 

“i bring you danishes,” elijah says, placing the bag gently on emmy’s desk. “my dad used to make these all the time for me. comfort food.” 

[kronosfm]

the following accounts have 48 hours to resume on-dash activity or message the main for an extension:

@liqhtbearer

@orbreak

accounts currently on hiatus:

@ofmemoriam

@ardiendos

@emmysavoya / @steviemack

@couverts

[dannywintr]

closed event starter for @emmysavoya

Handing Emerald the drink she'd requested, Danny says over the music, "In your professional opinion, what is it about these claustrophobic small towns that makes everyone wanna live and die here so badly? It's like being born inside the event horizon of a goddamn black hole."

[byreticence]

#𝐊𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝟏 - 𝟐𝟎𝟒𝟎 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐍’𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀; cecil royce in bespoke, photo credit: novus museum

cecil royce made a rare societal appearance at robert buchanan’s annual gala. the 48-year-old royce sported an all black three-piece suit and was accompanied by emerald savoya in red. - jessica logan for e!

@emmysavoya

[kronosfm]

@steviemack ( sideblog to @emmysavoya )

[kronosfm]

@pcrennial

@kyllini

@byreticence

@liqhtbearer

@deceptacons

@amarcnthined

@couverts

@cynicid

@withpains

@anatomicbcmb

@elektricz

@emmysavoya

@ofmemoriam

@isaachan

[byreticence]

there is always a way to get everyone to do what you want them to do. however easy or difficult, it’s but a matter of getting to know someone. emerald, cecil learned very early on, would do as he asks if he makes it clear it’s not only something he wants of her but also that he trusts her to see it accomplished.

he takes a bite of his food, chewing slowly, and cuts blue eyes over to emerald as she talks about her brother. “brothers have a way of being the bane of your existence.” his own is a case study in that. he’d be somewhat impressive if he had half as much discipline as he does hedonistic impulsivity. “hobnobbing must not have been high on his priority list that night. surprisingly enough, as you said, for him. what do you think he found more important?

There: guilt settles like a thick paste in the bottom of her stomach, solidified by the trust Cecil gives in her insistence. "I did nap. Twice," she insists without much conviction, but it's too late. He trusts that she's taking care of herself, if not for herself but for the duty she has upon others. Slowly she pushes the papers off to the side, instead choosing to focus on the dinner and the man in front of her.

She's read the files, the reports, a dozen times by now. Nothing has become any clearer.

"Olivia used to make this one soup when I'd get stressed with schoolwork," Emerald admits, opting to use her adoptive mother's first name instead of calling her what she is. Easier, really, even ten years later. "Though I never got the recipe. I'm sure if I asked now, my brother would say he didn't keep the paper." She shrugs one shoulder, turning to watch the television. "I'm glad he never wound up going to the gala. I thought for sure I'd see him trying to rub noses with Buchanan."

[byreticence]

even if he hadn't known her for years now - taken her under his wing in a sense, molding and shaping her into an excellent officer of the nsa - cecil would be able to see the way her mind spins. it starts with one bad thing - this revelation from the labs of kronos - and descends down, down, down in a never-ending spiral not unlike the cascading effects of a single domino being knocked over.

the bleeding heart on her sleeve leaves her vulnerable to the concerns of what will happen to the people robert buchanan leads astray. cecil doesn't have that problem which makes her insight invaluable.

"i'd like for you to be a five." goals, he's learned, are good for emerald. taking her thoughts from the near-incessant spiral of doom in her head onto other more productive ones can be difficult, but it works. "you can do that because i've seen you do it. will you do that for me?" cecil meets her eyes. "we've got a long night and i need you at your best."

The pragmatic reply only makes the woman sneer - not at them, but at the very notion of legality in a world where so many people make blanketed laws and twist them at supernatural will. Emerald is fortunate the law bent to her will once upon a time, but therein opened Pandora's Box. She can already see the throngs of cases coming to their department's doorstep, the failures and mishaps, and it grips a panic on her heart.

Moving closer to him to keep the trusted conversation between them, Emerald looks him in the eye when she replies. "Of course it's not, because he's above the law." A murmur, nothing more; an honesty she cannot afford in this meeting space, much less to anyone that isn't him. While she shouldn't speak so plainly as his subordinate, the woman trusts the years between them to be candid in the heat of the moment.

"There are implications to this. Unpredictable outcomes, in an infinite capacity, and it--"

Emmy watches his eyes drop, causing her voice to get stuck in her throat. One to ten. Implant or not, the overwhelming emotion is evident in her hushed tone. "Seven," she lies to herself, then speaks the truth to him. "It was close to an eight, maybe a nine, until you showed. I just need one minute, here, before we pretend like this is... a manageable discovery and all is well."

[byreticence]

“sleeping hardly counts as much of a break.” he’s aware that he sounds likea chiding older sibling or parent, but when it comes to emerald, he has little else in the way of options. she’d push herself into an early grave if he left her; unfortunately for her, cecil’s keen eye wouldn’t let her get much farther than a hospital bed with an attached IV to alleviate the exhaustion. still, he relents but not without giving her a knowing look. “but i trust you.”

he turns his gaze to the muted tv screen and the news pundits angrily debating the gala of the nightmare. buchanan had, without intending to, set back the nsa’s progress on rebuilding society’s trust in supers in just a few short hours. pr isn’t their concern, but supers retreating into the shadows once more out of fear for undeserved repercussions makes their job more difficult. “it’s a good recipe,” he says, more so to keep her distracted than he cares to actually talk about food. “my family’s staff made it when i was younger. i figured it out for when i moved out. comfort food, in a way. i suppose. what's yours?”

Her eyes haven't left the words littered upon the pages below since Emerald arrived here. Getting down to the bottom of what the hell happened at the Buchanan gala -- although not quite her paygrade -- has kept her up at night. Granted, the painkillers from the doctors have helped. The implant is unaffected, but her ankle remains worse for wear. The crutches remain propped at the archway for easy access.

"I have taken breaks," she tells him, which isn't a lie. Briefly glancing up at him as he nears, her mouth waters at the aroma of food. "And no. As you can imagine they're a bit busy, but I'm telling you, Cecil, I'm fine." As fine as she can be, now that she knows the serum's being scrubbed off every major news outlet. "God, what a mess -- the paperwork, obviously, not the food. Food smells amazing."

[byreticence]

shock and awe ripple through the gala’s crowd, bubbling up into a concoction of excitement and fear so painfully contagious that the surge of chatter around him makes it hard to make sense of absolutely anything else around him. he, as always, remains resolutely quiet with an unrewarding expression of neutrality when robert buchanan’s eyes find his. as if he’d expected to finally get something out of cecil royce. cecil gives nothing away and they both move on to more important people.

from his customary position at the back of the room, cecil had clocked emerald making an exit - quickly, clinging to the wall like one misstep will send her plummeting to her death - and in following her finds he’d been right to. he doesn’t need to wonder how the announcement makes her feel; he can see it roiling in her eyes.

briefly, he considers letting her unleash it.

“it isn’t against the law.” he stands with his back against the wall they’ve placed themselves behind. “so he can. however unethical.” what cecil wants to know is how much thought went into deciding who would take the serum - background checks, psychological evaluations, physiological evaluations, if they were even normal humans and not unknown supers put up there because the serum isn’t quite perfected. he’s irritated even if he doesn’t show it.“and you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone else in that room as upset as you are.”

he gives emerald a quick once over. “one to ten, where are you now?”

for: @byreticence where: event - buchanan's gala

She can feel it start at the pit of her stomach, bottoming out like an explosive before it surges through her entire system. Anyone can be a super. Just like how she wound up being such a monster by accident, no rhyme or reason. Faulty genetics could be to blame, maybe, but now it didn't matter. Quietly excusing herself from her table, the officer leaves her napkin behind and hugs the perimeter of the room to find her way to her superior.

Always to him; like a moth to a flame, except she embraces burning if it means Emerald can numb the budding emotions threatening to spill up and over the pot.

She waits -- waits for him to show, nostrils flaring once a wall and some privacy gives her space to roll through the motions. Disgust. Fear. Anger -- fuck, so much anger. That implant must be working overtime in the back of her skull.

At the feel of his presence, Emerald turns with a set jaw. "They can't do that." She speaks low, cautious of wandering ears. "Cecil, they can't do that. Pretending a... little levitation magic trick is cute, much less ethical."

[fearspecter]

he snorts, dismissive of her leash comments. were he a hell of a lot more sober, he wouldn’t offended so much as he would be annoyed. with how many he’s heard, he ought to let them roll off his back by now but it’s something he can’t get past. maybe because, to them, it’s their way of putting him in his place. as if technology never fails. as if, one day, every single person in the agency won’t find themselves asking him for mercy.

placing the pen between his lips, otto eyes her quietly while inhaling. the crowd doesn’t bother him much. he doesn’t like the majority of them - primarily the ones emerald works for and with. he’s not concerned about the serum. if kronos wants to make more supers, so be it. it’ll keep the nsa so busy he’ll slip through the cracks to freedom. “they’re all assholes,” he shrugs, blase smile in place. “the normals, the supes, the fakers with designer genetics. i’m not worried about them. like you said - i’m capable.” though it makes him curious, that insinuation. how poorly does she expect this night to go? “but i doubt you’ll need little ol’ me tonight. the rich asshole playing god would surely have a contingency plan if his science experiment derails, don't you think?”

"If I wanted to track you like a dog, Otto, then I'd have them at least bedazzle a leash for me." The way he taps her neck only makes her hyperaware of her own. Perhaps not tracking, no, but just about. Keeping her at a neutral state of being so that she can simply deal with life as opposed to bulldozing it. Emmy can only fathom just how stuck he must feel.

At first she says nothing, gauging his reaction with a passive interest before sitting down on the bench next to him. "No, you're not supposed to not be alright, but I imagine it's not an easy crowd to mingle with for you," she replies softly, only to give a one-shoulder shrug. "And I care about people getting hurt. If this is real, then we have a potential shift in wind for heroes." She pointed cocks a brow. "And not-so-heroic types. But I think you're capable to handle either of those situations."