Realistic or Modern Lull of the Void

[Roda the Red]

BERITH

Brandon Woodard

Min Park​

"Well, I uh..." The young man pondered over their friend's request, the very man who could barely cook egg half the time, the same one who mistook sugar and salt last time he made mac and cheese. "I can give it a shot!" Who also happened to be someone who always struggled to say no to people, especially when given the puppy eye treatment, a vile tactic of terrifying effectiveness.

Snatching his bottle back, he stared into the vastness of the park. "Oh yeah, I know what you mean!" His eyes scanned through the foliage and the scenery, his hand pressed perpendicularly against his brow as to block any direct sunlight (dramatic effect was also thoroughly welcomed), thusly spotting a man going for a jog. "That guy over there, he's going to meet an old friend from highschool and has like a week to get fit so he doesn't look bad." Shifting his gaze to the right, he noticed an old lady at the edge of a nearby pond. "And she has been feeding the same duck for the last 8 years, even though she insists to not care about it."

Gripping onto his knees, Brandon got himself up on his feet, face now dry and revitalized. "Alright, I gotta go look for a faucet now, and I still wanted to give the place one last lap before calling it a day." His eyes locked with Jean's as he smiled gently. "Care to join me? We could also go get some grub afterwards if you want, breakfast can only keep me satisfied for so long. Just gotta make sure I stay within my budget." School wasn't going to pay itself, and last thing Brandon needed was to fall into avocado toast limbo.

IDKnuggets

 

[Nobody Special]

Sushki Volkov
Location: The Funhouse
Status: Focused
Interacting: demytra miki
________________________________________________________________________________

Sushki’s expression softened ever so slightly at the sight of Lola taking the substance with such ease. She wasn’t necessarily stricken with some powerful emotion, or anything— there was just something calming about watching the woman enjoy a hobby of hers.

“You’re a natural.” What a sick hobby. And an even sicker thing to say.

Thankfully, her brother-in-law cut in with a question before the internal self-loathing could begin.

“Not bad.” She lied, just as easily as she had done that first line. In reality, ‘business’ was as terrible as it was the month before— and the month before that one. Not great by any means, but not so terrible that she was failing her parents, yet. But, Jae-Song couldn’t know that.

In hopes of putting a halt to any potential follow-up questions, she decided to stoke his ego as a distraction. “What about you? Heard some good things.”

Suddenly, the sound of music began echoing throughout the club’s atmosphere. The show was starting.​

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: a bar -> out in the alley
status: this is fiNOH NO
tags: BriiAngelic
​

Orson was no stranger to ruined nights. Nightmares often chewed him up and spat him out restless. Paranoia pulled his eyelids open when the stagnant guilt of his abandoned faith shaped into demons, creeping in the deceitfully shifting shadows of his room. So when his prospective tryst interposed between the two drunkards, Orson was sure he’d be leaving the bar alone that night.

He watched, half amused and half disinterested. It wouldn’t have taken a performance to know V was a singer. Even when he raised his voice at the men—snapping heads and demanding attention—it sounded hypnotizing. Like some vengeful siren calling the ocean’s wrath. Orson could only blame the liquor that wound through his bloodstream for the dangerously enticing comparison. There was freedom in V’s brazenness that Orson coveted. He wondered if he’d actually get that drink he was promised.

He stood from his seat, giving the scene a wide gap. Virgilius had managed to take down both men, the bar patrons gawked. Some reached for their phones to record the scene. Orson overheard the bar tender shout, “Break it up!” while trying to give the 911 operator the details of where and what was happening.

The accused man pushed out from under V, fists swinging to slam into his side. The other, too drunk to rationally step aside, began kicking his feet heedlessly. It was almost embarrassing to watch until he yanked the leg of a stool in hopes of self-defense, throwing the person sitting atop it. They weren’t pleased about that either, thus the fight gained an additional combatant.

The roiling mass of chaos that unfolded must’ve had its own gravitational pull. An infectious recklessness that urged its numbers. Orson swore he saw someone throw a punch completely unprompted, perhaps feeling left out. He should have left the second Virgilius confronted them. Instead, he was damp with some kind of beverage he hadn’t ducked on time from and was trying to reach the exit through the roiling pot of fists.

He's shoved into, the edge of a table unpleasantly jabbing his hip as he falls against it. Despite the suffocating ache, his leg vengefully kicked the offender, pushing a man twice his width a few steps away. The regret swung on him as swiftly as the man’s fist. Luckily, Orson scrambled away from it’s devastating path as it nearly splintered the table. His cap goes flying off his head in the process and suddenly he feels alarmingly naked.

There’s recognition there. Vague and distant but slowly crawling to the surface. It stares down at Orson like an impending tsunami, this man walking closer not to threaten him, but because he recognized him. There wasn’t enough air in the room. All the fighting must have scared it away. His chest heaved and burned with a pulse that threatened to pop his ears.

“Aren’t you the—eagh!” Orson slammed his knee between the man’s legs hard enough to shoot his balls directly up his throat. His face went tomato red as he fell to his knees gripping his crotch, then toppled onto his side whimpering. Orson grimaced in solidarity but took the opening to dive towards the side door.

The wall across from his exit nearly wore an imprint of his body. The slim alleyway he found himself offering little comfort in terms of fresh air. It was damp and moldy. Still, he sucked in breath like he’d been drowning moments prior. The faint sound of distant sirens muffled by the rattled heartbeat in his ears.

 

[AzaleaWonderland]

~ Haven Labs, Lock Haven, FL
~ April 19th, 2024
~ The One Eyed Bandit

"You liked yours black, correct?" Cora questioned, seeing Easel step out of their box. She was already holding two cups, one looked more like milk than coffee, and the other looked held a liquid as black as the oil they use for the machinery. Cora often did this, showing up with just what you needed at the right time with uncanny accuracy. "I accidentally added too much water in the coffee maker and had some extra, and yours is the easiest to remember."

Cora placed the mug on a long gray granite counter filled with cabinets for storage underneath. Pressing her coffee up to her lips, Cora took a tentative sip. The humming of the fluorescent lights started to crescendo, and the ground beneath them shook, barely enough to be noticeable, causing the black coffee on the cabinet to ripple. The lights flickered off, for a second, before returning to their normal dull hum.

"We may as well get used to these hiccups given how fast our deadline is approaching. To get the prototype's public demonstration fully functional in two days requires us all to give it our all. You better not collapse on me before the finish line, alright?" Cora chuckled, she trusted Easel would make the deadline. She was mostly worried about Finn, it might be best to replace them, but that'd have to wait. "Oh! Did I tell you? I finally convinced my dearest daughter to attend the prototype demo! I haven't been able to tell her anything! I can't wait to see how impressed she is with our research." Cora placed her free hand on her waist, flashing a bright white smile.

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown )
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  In Over My Head
  Fuck the kick landed to his stomach, something that was sure to bruise later. Goddamn stupid useless drunks. He could never understand the ones who lost themselves in their high. How fucking hard was it to not cause PROBLEMS for others while you hit your vice. It was people like them that ruined it for everyone else.
  
  A full on bar riot was fucking happening and he was not with it. He kicked out at the idiot that started it all and spit in his face. He ruined his day, ruined his chance at a good happy ending, and now was gonna fucking make it hell when his body processed the pain that should be coursing through that last hit. Fuck fuck he didn’t feel it. The adrenaline crash out was going to be fucking awful.
  
  He heard the idiots who were calling 911 say the cops were on the way and just knew everything was about to get so much worse. Seriously? Cops? Because of a dumbass bar fight. Bitches. They weren’t gonna do anything but act like they fixed the problem after everyone else had done their job for them.
  
  He wasn’t noble enough to care about the wellbeing of others once he realized his old hellish annoyances would probably still recognize him from the past arrests. His head flicked back to his maybe date planning to warn him they had to scram only to find the table they’d been at part of the fray of damage.
  
  Holy shit, yeah he’d fucked shit up real good. He did a quick scan not seeing them anywhere here. Wait were they even okay? He had no idea if the other knew how to fight, especially with how they’d been trying to get his attention back earlier.
  
  Well if he was scramming anyways…
  
  He gave the drunk who was still laid out from his last blow another kick to the head before running out the nearest door. He ran out the back hearing approaching sirens. He would have booked it out of dodge if he hadn’t caught a glimpse in the corner of his eye for the familar face he was looking for.
  
  ”Orson! Hey are you good? We need to scram the cops are coming and they’re gonna case the place, probably throw in anyone they can to make it look like they do something around here.”
  
  He pivoted from the run he started slinking in the alleyway trying to get a better look over on the man hoping he hadn’t inevitably gotten his belle of the night hurt. The sound of the sirens was only getting closer putting V on edge. He threw his hand out beckoning the other to run with him.
  
  ​

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: bar district; out in an alley
status: not how he pictured his evening to go
tags: BriiAngelic
​

“Orson!—”

His heart nearly alienated itself from his body with how viciously it slammed into his chest, rattling Orson down to the marrow. His head swung in the direction of the caller, realization salving the heaping panic Orson bled as he remembered there was only one person he’d confessed his name to that night. The wail of the sirens and his own pulse drowned most of V’s words, but the haste is clear on his face. What stupefied Orson, was the outstretched hand beckoning him to follow.

The debate in his head ran longer than the reality, but it’s not as if his mind had a say in what his body did. While the executives in his head weighed the outcomes, his body moved of its own volition, yanked by some invisible string—or perhaps drawn towards that dangerously electric charisma. His hand grabbed onto V’s and they ran.

“This way!” Halfway through the alley, distant voices echoed righteously behind them. Orson threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see two officers sprinting at them.

“Lord almighty…” The words a low, exasperated growl. He squeezed V’s hand, precautious of them slipping loose with how clammy their palms had gotten between the running and insufferably damp Florida heat. “Right!” He says quickly to V, warning him before making a sharp dive to the right, hauling him along.

A second alley stretched beyond, albeit slightly shorter. It opened to a sidewalk, but the two weren’t making it that far.

A tight, shadowed nook becomes their saving grace, discreetly hidden behind the beams of a fire escape ladder. Orson’s hand held his mouth to muffle his breathing and did the same with V’s. Squeezing them both further into the shadows when the footsteps grew closer before tapering off. After a few seconds, he removed his hand from V’s mouth and his own.

He breathed out, relief easing the thick tension that had been straining his muscles. Upon recollecting himself, he finally thought it apt to notice their proximity, though he was undecided what to do about it.

“I get the feeling that wasn’t a first for you.” A subdued, playful smirk pulled at Orson’s lip as he pushed his hair back before more of it could stick to the sweat dewing his temples.

 

[IDKnuggets]

fontcall fontcall fontcall

Verrine

Identity

Jean Tepes

location

Min Park

interactions

Roda the Red angel doe

mentions

N/A

Jean pressed their hands together in front of their face and clapped the ends of their fingers together excitedly. A wide grin that wasn’t quite reflected in their large dull eyes spread from ear to ear as they celebrated their future treat.

Following the redheaded boy’s gaze, they spotted the jogging man that he suggested needed to get in shape. To them he looked more like he was preparing to run down a goat on foot so he may sacrifice it to the snake god Quetzalcoatl. His next suggestion was almost on the money, observing an old lady sitting by the pond. Carrot suggested she had been feeding the same duck for eight years, which made sense to Verrine, but after that he lost her with a sappy tale of a tsundere granny who doesn’t care about that duck one bit, b- baka. No- surely the duck would soon be plump enough for the perfect turducken, eight years in the making.

“Your stories are funny” they commented with a quirked brow. It was not a compliment.

“See the kid who throws the flying saucer at the dog?” they questioned, gesturing at a young boy throwing a frisbee for his border collie. “Aerial defense training, for any bird that might try to fly off with it.”

As Brandon stood Jean clasped their arms around his neck, forcing him to help drag them to their feet. A look of disgust crossed their face when he suggested joining him for a jog around the park, one fortunately hidden as they were drug behind him. The instant he mentioned food they caved, releasing their prisoner and bouncing around to stand in front of him. “You invited me, that means you buy?” they questioned hopefully, once again breaking out the doe eyes. Begging for food seemed to be the only time Jean’s empty eyes sparked to life, shimmering with a hope that just dared you to crush it.

Grabbing Brandon by the hand and dragging him in the direction of the stream, Jean hoped that if they distracted him enough they could skip the jog and get straight to the good stuff. The food!

“I was just by the water, come on.”

Halfway to the stream an object lying on the ground stole their attention- a backpack with a bottle that looked remarkably similar in size to the one Brandon had. One that would have just enough water to recharge his bottle and get them on their way...

“Ah, water-”

Verrine dashed over and snatched the bag up, nabbing the bottle before tossing the bag over their shoulder. The backpack arced wide in a toss that would have made a football player stare in awe before coming to an explosive landing in the stream, sending water and fish scattering every which way.

"Carrot, I've got the recharge!" they called out, unfazed, waving the stolen bottle over their head and cupping their mouth with their free hand.

 

[angel doe]

BEELZEBUB
Sally Paris​

Interaction: IDKnuggets Roda the Red
Time + Place: min park

Sally spotted her backpack just in time to see some random jerk snatch it up, swipe her water bottle, and chuck the bag over their shoulder. She barely had a second to process what had happened before it sailed through the air and landed in the stream. She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down her face. At least there was nothing important in there.

Muttering under her breath, she trudged over and yanked the bag out by one strap. Water streamed from the fabric, trickling uncomfortably down her arm. Fantastic. Just what she needed. Shaking it off with an irritated huff, she set her sights on the thief and picked up her pace, frustration simmering hotter with every step.

As soon as they were close enough, they stomped on the heel of the stranger's shoe and grabbed their arm, nails biting into their skin.

“Hey, asshole. That’s mine.”

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown )
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  (Fuck a) Silver Lining
  
  To say he expected his Prince Charming to run away with him would be a lie but by god wasn’t it a thrill. Somehow the situation flipped and he found himself being led in a way he would have never expected given the state he found Orson in the alley. It was something familiar but wholly new. It was rare he’d had anyone leading him, and been a long time since he’d felt comfortable enough to let someone.
  
  Even funnier still was the awareness of just how close the other was to him. He was tempted to play but the sound of the cops mere feet away kept him from risking it all. Instead he relaxed under the others hand listening to the muffled sound of their labored breaths.
  
  It was clear even as Orson drew his hand back how V pulled forwards feeling confident to erase the distance between them. He leaned in so that both could feel the breaths the other took not pushing the line enough that Orson couldn’t make it clear he was done.
  
  “Definitely not the first time but I’ve never had such lovely company before. We should make this a habit. I have a feeling you didn’t exactly hate the thrill, or am I wrong.”
  
  His echoed the smirk given to him just waiting for one sign to take it a little farther. God he wanted to, the cat and mouse game was fun but he wanted to steal the breath from the other and figure out the details later.
  
  “Some might even say we need to stop meeting up like this”
  
  ​

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: bar district; out in an alley
status: sabotaged by god
tags: BriiAngelic
​

V seized what little remnants of space lingered, capturing the air in Orson’s lungs before it was even exhaled from his lips. The scent was intoxicating between them, and Orson fleetingly wondered if he’d be able to taste the singer’s last drink on his tongue.

“…I have a feeling you didn’t exactly hate the thrill, or am I wrong.”

It was a flaying inquiry. One Orson wasn’t equipped to refute nor confront. He stood bewitched by the deep, coaxing umber of V’s eyes, caught in the casual revelation that utterly dismantled him. His prior observation of Vergilius had been of someone who tempted the riotous spirit. Someone who harnessed l'appel du vide like it was the very essence of their blood. He saw ruin in V’s eyes and sought it devastatingly.

His breath trembled; gaze fixed to V’s lips as if every answer to every question awaited him there. The tips of their noses brushed as Orson inclined his head forward, thumb tracing the other’s bottom lip, whatever semblance of rationale withering in him keeping V at bay.

“Stop meeting like this?” Orson echoed; his voice whispered in a soft, ragged timbre interwoven with unmistakable desire. “You’ve been the highlight of my week.”

A mere millisecond before their lips had the chance to clash, something slithered down Orson’s chest. He clutched it with a muted gasp, thinking it maybe a bug of sorts, but held cold silver instead. He pulled back and looked down, the thin silver chain which held the cross around his neck had somehow snapped undone.

His knees wanted to buckle under the weight of the omen. Fall into the familiar kneel of prayer until bruised. The ghost of his faith stabbing its gaunt, pale hand from the grave he’d dug for it. Still restless, still vengeful, still a part of him. The lack of space between their bodies was suddenly less enticing and more suffocating.

Orson slipped out from the nook, the absence of V’s warmth feeling like a splash of iced water.

“I should probably get out of these clothes first though.” He paused, aware how that didn’t exactly sound like a de-escalation. “Someone threw their drink on me, and I don’t want to smell like booze for the rest of today.” What was he so afraid of? A smiting hand from a God he abandoned? It felt like a sharpened blade had been pressed into an old, faded scar and made to bleed anew. But something else pulled stronger in Orson: defiance.

“I have a friend who runs a place here, The Funhouse. Sometimes I leave stuff there. We could stop by and then...see where the night takes us. If you want.” He tucked his hand in his pocket to deposit the cross necklace, but his fingers stubbornly held on.

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown )
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  Nowhere
  
  For a brief moment he thought perhaps he’d done things half decently and had found someone who might want what he wanted, something natural and easy. Then he was reminded that this always happened to him. He didn’t know what cooled the fire, one moment he felt Orson’s hands and was but a moment away from kissing and the next the other seemed to act like he could have enough space from him. Yeah, no big deal. He’d fucked something up but then again when didn’t he?
  
  As the other spoke he felt himself get his hopes up and crushed again. God, he couldn’t be this bad at reading signs, right? Highlight of the week, wanted to change out of his clothes but that of course meant nothing. He made sure to look in the opposite direction from Orson knowing that he wasn’t good at hiding his expressions. There was no point in showing the hurt of being jerked around. Orson didn’t owe him shit, and clearly something has been enough to turn the other away. He bit his lip for a moment before forcing his body to relax trying to throw away its sudden tension.
  
  Deny it, hide it, laugh. He’d regained his swagger when he turned back to the other. He walked closer once again to Orson exaggeratedly leaning in for a moment pretending like he wasn’t familiar with the scent from how close they were moments prior. He pulled away and put a hand on his chin with a hmmm.
  
  “My guess, strawberry daiquiri right. Great to drink, less so when you’re in a puddle of it.”
  
  He’d go, he’d follow with pleasure just to find out more about the other. What made him so hot and cold. Was V just expecting more than Orson cared to give? Fine, he’d just not then. It shouldn’t be hard, he wasn’t feeling like becoming an embarrassment again. He gave a soft smile that hid the curling pit in his stomach, the voice in the back of his head that sounded so disgustingly familiar saying you fucked it up again. Was this better or worse than the mornings he woke up alone reminded he was more often good for a thrill and then never again.
  
  No, don’t spiral. This had nothing to do with that. He was being stupidly in his own head again. He just had to keep expectations low, nothing else needed grand thought.
  
  “Funhouse huh, can’t say I’ve ever been. With a name like that though… I can guess a few ideas. Lead the way, I’m down.”
  
  ​

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: the funhouse
status: what if i set myself on fire lol
tags: BriiAngelic Nobody Special miki demytra
​

Orson’s pulse hitched at V leaning in. Startled or expectant, he wasn’t sure and wouldn’t choose to examine it. He was coated in Strawberry Daiquiri—apparently—and wanted to be free from it. Although moving their rendezvous to The Funhouse had been his suggestion, Orson hadn’t thought V would agree. He’d hoped for it, but it was rare that luck would pitifully grant his wishes.

Orson led towards The Funhouse, familiar with the route even with his eyes closed. The music had begun thrumming the air outside, on the inside, it’s a myriad arrangement of scandalous hues and a titillating performance well into its act on stage. Orson paid no attention, dipping into the familiar edges where the shadows hid them from anyone’s glance. The crowd was sparse but present. Maybe they’d arrived too early.

Orson always forgot his hoodie in Sushki’s office. The first time it had been an accident; the dozen other times that followed were done to excuse his return. Now it was just a habit.

At the door to her office, he knocks out of courtesy before twisting the knob to open the door, accustomed to walking in unannounced.

“Kiki, I—” His eyes locked on Lola, the dread nearly strangling him on the spot. Evasively, his gaze shifted to the other shape in the room who he vaguely recognized as Sushki’s brother-in-law. From the two of them, he then noticed the tray with white, powdery remnants, but its contents were ultimately dismissible. He lingered at the door, holding the frame and suddenly blaringly aware of V’s presence behind him. “I came to get my hoodie,” he looked at Sushki, “I’m with a friend and extremely flammable.”

Orson tilted his body slightly to reveal V before slipping into the room with a pointed avoidance of Lola and Jae-song, more averse to the former. Ushering V inside, he started to wonder how bad it’d truly be if he accidentally lit himself on fire for lighting a cigarette.

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown ), Sushki ( Nobody Special ) Lola ( miki ), Jae-Song ( demytra )
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  Smoke With the Devil
  
  All of his expectations went out the window when they entered the funhouse. He didn’t expect it to be a burlesque club. He understood the stage well but he wasn’t one for being on the other side of it. He admired their routine well enough though.
  
  It was clear that Orson knew the place like the back of his hand though as the other walked with confidence that spoke to having come multiple times. He hesitated at first not sure why he was also following into the back, he was a stranger at best. So long as Orson wasn’t shooing him off though he figured he was expected to follow.
  
  He was confused as to why Orson had to specify that he was flammable, figuring they were probably some form of chain smoker. His confusion only went up as he saw them gathered around what had to be coke or heroin. Did these heathen smoke their lines? Or maybe Orson just didn’t know.
  
  “If it’s coke you snort it, if it’s heroin then they’re probably gonna shoot up. Neither should involve fire.”
  
  ​

 

[Nobody Special]

Sushki Volkov
Location: The Funhouse
Status: Curious
Interacting: demytra miki BriiAngelic Klown
________________________________________________________________________________

When she heard the door to her office click open, her first instinct was, for some reason, to hide the narcotics from the person entering. She wasn’t quite sure why, as she had little-to-no shame regarding her frequent substance abuse when she was at her club. However, it soon dawned on her that she wasn’t trying to protect her own image, but her employee’s.

“If it were H,” She cut into the words of the unknown face standing behind the priest, sizing the younger male up with her blue eyes. “Then a flame would be needed to prep it for a syringe. Orson. Who’s your friend?”

In most cases, she wasn’t a fan of new faces. But she knew Orson, and she trusted him not to bring the wrong kind of person into her office unannounced. Thus, instead of glaring daggers into the long-haired man’s soul, her gaze was washed over with a gleam of curiosity.

Her attention shifted back to Orson— more specifically his drenched outfit, before waving him off to enter and gather his belongings. From her experience handling drunkards, she could easily tell that it wasn’t the result of something as simple as an accidental spill. She raised an eyebrow to him in suspicion. Surely, not mere minutes after the show started...

“...That didn’t happen here, right?”​

 

[demytra]

Oeillet
Jae-Seong "Jason" Min​

---

The Funhouse, Bar District​

Jason was about to answer Sushki about his doings until the door opened to reveal two newcomers to the room, leaving him to turn his head with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. Despite the powder he had snorted being on the weaker side, he still started to feel himself come on with a weak high - in other words, he simply was too relaxed to get properly angry at the intrusion. Instead, he slumped back at the sofa and watched the interaction between his in-law and someone she apparently knew unfold. His eyes narrowed on examination, and he found the person in front of him... lacking. They were a mess, plain and simple, and Jason wasn't particularly thrilled to be with someone whose odours included booze and likely vomit conjoined together in an unholy aromatic concoction.

Instead, he pulled a cigarette out and a lighter to smoke. He took a big drag before allowing smoke to exit his mouth and nose, like a coked up dragon. He stayed quiet for a moment before snickering: "If it happened here, I feel sorry for the poor fuck that has to clean it up."

Nobody Special miki BriiAngelic Klown

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: the funhouse
status: why r u running, why r u running
tags: BriiAngelic Nobody Special miki demytra
​

Orson had only wanted assurance that no flame would be immediately sparked near him, so the unanticipated drug lesson provided no solace and went mostly ignored.

He slunk into the office utilizing the empty space furthest from Lola and Jason, curving around the couches until he stood behind Sushki’s desk to pull open the lowest drawer where his black hoodie stuffed the compartment.

“Sushki, Virgilius. V, Sushki,” Orson gestured to them respectively then tugged his shirt over his head with an unabashed ease. “Play, nice.” He noted dryly, damp shirt slapped over his bare shoulder as he reached for his change of clothes.

The familiar click of a lighter gave him pause, eyes immediately finding the source as if predisposed towards its sound. Envy squeezed between the spaces of what little self-preservation Orson still had, his addiction beginning its restless gnawing. If ever he needed a cigarette, it would be now. If ever he shouldn’t have one, it would be now. He zipped the hoodie on with a half-baked glare.

"No, happened at some other joint couple blocks down,” Mumbled distractedly over his inspection of his necklace—maybe he’d latched it in wrong, the tiny buckle was gratingly finicky, but it didn’t seem broken. “If it had happened here, I would’ve made sure to redeem my free consolation drink." A made-up rule Orson liked to insist upon at the slightest inconvenience. He winked at Sushki giving the necklace an experimental tug, satisfied when it stayed hooked around his neck.

Rolling his discarded shirt between his hands, Orson’s fleeting attention finally landed on V. Spotting him like something he’d been purposely avoiding out of guilty cowardice. There were weeping red cuts on his arm, a bruise here and there, Orson distinctly remembered the rockstar throwing his body into the drunkards like a battering ram, broken glass be damned.

“We’re using the first aid kit, Kiki.” Orson announced approaching V, examining the arm and ensuring no blood dripped onto Sushki’s floor. There’s a calculated distance he interjects between them. No touch lingering for too long. No glance spared toward V’s face at the risk of meeting his eyes. He gestured for V to follow with a nod of his head and lead him outside the office.

The show was still underway, the performer expertly captivating the audience with an effortless sensual flow. The noise in Orson’s head was much too loud for it, unfortunately. Echoing a single, simple inquiry.

“…I have a feeling you didn’t exactly hate the thrill, or am I wrong.”

If ever something could become a curse, it would be this. Unraveled by both a clawing longing and shunning uncertainty.

The bar was empty safe for the bartender, which Orson was grateful for. He asked for the first-aid kit they keep behind the counter, and one look at V was all it took for it to be passed without questioning. Orson directed V to sit on a stool and sat across him, pulling close until their knees touched. His breath delayed for only a second; it was all he allowed himself to waver.

The sleeves of Orson’s hoodie are rolled up to his elbows before he begins tending to V. One hand held his arm, the other tenderly swabbed off the blood, picked out the small pieces of glasses, and disinfected it. There was a lack of words on Orson’s end. They were lost somewhere in his throat, scrambling behind his tongue, uncertain of who should go first or if they should be spoken at all.

He wrapped the gauze around the scrapes then sealed it with paper tape. Not once during the process had his face lifted. Lost in thought or fear, or perhaps both. His fingers glide down V’s arm with the touch of a wary sculptor until they reach his palm, turning it carefully.

“Is your hand okay?” His voice lead with more softness than he’d anticipated; he cleared it from his throat. “With the way you were throwing yourself, I’m surprised nothing fractured.”

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Kayoko Yumekawa
Academy
@simj26 @WhiskeyMarten @gxxberkit ​

Wybie. A manifestation of sin, and not because of the self-proclaimed devil he claims he harbors. Deranged flirts like them are the very disease Drystan was trying to cure this hedonist society of. And as they utterly destroyed Anthony's set-up, she was not surprised in the least that they brought only destruction and stagnation.

It was the wink that made her twitch. "Damn you and your hedonistic disregards to civil nature, you vermin," she hissed. "This sanctuary of learning has no place for whores." Kayoko rose, about ready to escalate everything. "Pick up Anthony's schoolwork, lest you besmirch yourself in barbarity any further. And keep your eyes off the non-consenting Cameron, for I know exactly what goes through that rotten brain of yours."

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown ), Sushki ( Nobody Special ) Lola ( miki ), Jae-Song ( demytra )
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  TV
  
  Orson’s friend was colorful. He didn’t know exactly if he was welcome to be introducing himself considering the hot and cold feelings he was getting from the other. When the man smoking started to light up he instinctively stepped between the flame and Orson.
  
  Sure he wasn’t going to be really likely to have any real issues but considering Orson already voiced the concern and the other still lit up he couldn’t help but feel a wave of annoyance. He bit his lip trying to not overstep especially when he didn’t even know any of these people from a hole in a wall.
  
  His eyes lit up as the other introduced him. Okay so that was a good sign. He raised a hand in a lazy wave to the other. Judging by the fact that this one was clearly Orson’s friend and the fact that the others hadn’t been named he felt there was a decent chance that the other two were more Sushki’s friends rather than Orson’s.
  
  “Yo, nice place you got here.”
  
  He was lying he hadn’t really paid it much attention but that was the nice thing to say right? Well maybe he could get a proper view after. Maybe he might have been more inclined to talk more if he hadn’t caught sight of Orson changing. He barely caught on to Orson’s play nice and was even less able to catch which of them he was talking to.
  
  His bliss might have stayed a bit longer if not for the fact that Orson wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Okay maybe they weren’t as good as he imagined. Did the other catch him staring? He thought he’d made his interest clear from the get go but he was half wondering if he’d massively misunderstood. God what if Orson was straight. Maybe he’d really misinterpreted a lot.
  
  When Orson told Sushki that they’d use the first aid kit he almost went to ask who was hurt until he saw where Orson’s eyes laid. Oh he was hurt. When did that happen. Fuck. Well he was making impression after impression wasn’t he. He gave the other’s a shrug as Orson led him out.
  
  “Maybe we can talk more later?”
  
  It wasn’t like he was too drawn to any of them but he felt bad considering Sushki’s interest was clearly peaked and they came to crash the place, take supplies and leave. With a pained smile he followed his interest hoping he could salvage something of the night.
  
  He obediently took the stool in front of him when he caught back up with Orson. He was going to have to get a second opinion on whether he was being an idiot here considering how close Orson kept positioning them. He’d probably be able to ask Wybie but they were kinda insane. If he asked Anthony he’d probably just be called gross or an abomination. He needed to take a trip down to Cams again. Maybe then any of this would make sense.
  
  The tenderness had to mean something right?
  
  The silence was broken by a question and without meaning to he found himself jumping slightly.
  
  “Huh? Oh I mean yeah it’s fine. I didn’t really notice it even. I’ve had worse. Not that I- I don’t like purposely get into fights. Guess it probably doesn’t look that way from your end though.”
  
  He could hear his own voice crack as he tried to hide his own concerns. Dammit. He was looking like a fool. Maybe the adrenaline and the sparkle were draining away and leaving him his usual puddle of stupid.
  
  “Hey did I fuck up somewhere? It seemed like we were going somewhere but like- I mean I shouldn’t like assume but you kinda backpedaled hard right? And if I’m coming on too strong or if it’s me misreading things then you can just like tell me off kay. If you’re only looking for a hookup or not looking at all I get it but… I’ve had a really bad track record of getting it so…”
  ​

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: the funhouse
status: being honest
tags: BriiAngelic
​

Candid insecurities eked out between the crack of a battered wall, V’s former confidence a broken guitar string snapped and coiling. Orson blanked. Stupefied by V’s honesty as it wacked the side of his head and forced his eyes open, forced them to look at V.

Layered under years of repressed expression, Orson had accustomed to the motions of shielding himself by pulling the blankets over his head when the dark got too scary; of saving face when it felt like too much of himself was exposed. He presented each of his interests with a calculated reservation or not at all. V’s abandoned inhibitions were a trove of honey, addictive and sweet. The type of sweetness Orson oft considered ill-fitting for someone like himself.

“No…” Soft, barely above a whisper. Hardly grasped over the music of the club. Both Orson’s hands joined V’s with reluctant resolve. “No. You haven’t fucked up.” Louder, firmer—but not harsh. An assurance, confirmation. Since their first encounter where the derelict priest had found the mysterious artist out painting, there’d been nothing but fascination. Intrigue. A curiosity that hungered; that still hungers.

“Sorry, I didn’t—” Vulnerability stung his tongue like poison. A gnawing fear that he’ll bear himself too open and be shunned for it. His mouth hung parted, stuck on words clogging his throat. He looked at V and saw a reflection there. The anxiety of misreading and being misread. The panic of having been too much of yourself and it somehow being off-putting. Except one of them had been brave enough to put words to it.

Orson wasn’t the best with words, but his actions could be read in bold. His hand slipped around the back of V’s neck; his fingers gently wrapped in the amber of his hair. The skin there was warm and slightly damp with sweat, but Orson didn’t mind that. It only served as a reminder of their prior entanglement between the nook of the alley where V’s breath was a ghost against his lips, taunting a union that never came. This time, it did, the weight of a skewed belief hanging heavy from his neck.

The first kiss asked for permission. A soft brush against lips, a trial of something more. His eyes flickered to meet V’s gaze for his own confirmation. When granted, the kiss melted into something heavy and warm. The heat of a pulsing heart, the balminess of flushed skin. Orson tilted his head into the kiss and drew their bodies closer, one hand plastered to the edge of the bar to safeguard himself from leaning too far off his stool.

He might’ve kissed him forever, he didn’t know. The applause from the crowd watching the stage broke his attention enough to remind him they were in public. He pulled away, slightly sheepish, carefully detangling his fingers from V’s hair.

“When I said you’re the highlight of my week, I meant it.” His gaze no longer avoided V, in fact, it was utterly rapt by him. “Whether this ends up being just a hook up or not, though, I’d still like to get to know you.”

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown ),
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  Neptune
  
  The tension he didn’t notice himself holding during his laying his cards on the table melted away as he caught the smallest sound of no on Orson’s lips. The linking of hands grounded him in a way he hadn’t been able to have since he was the punk playing all the wrong notes with all his stupid pals in middle school.
  
  The choked almost admittance let him get some rest. They were both playing with their cards on the table, even if he could only guess at what the others cards would be. Action had always been more familiar to him, it was far less nebulous to deconstruct than words that would leave him grasping for meaning.
  
  The hand at his neck gave him all the warning he needed, he chased each touch trying to burn it into the silence that this was welcome. In a way he was glad their time at the bar had been so rudely interrupted, the excitement of the action was far better with a clear head.
  
  With mirrored affections he threw a hand on the other's hip craving the closeness that had been offered. As the other broke the kiss and moved back he found himself feeling bolder. He moved his stool closer, burrowing his face into Orson’s neck.
  
  “I’m glad, I want to know you better too. Honestly it’s been a shit month for me so as odd as today has been I’m on cloud nine now. So what gets me a proper first date then?”
  
  ​

 

[miki]

Lola Kiss
Location: The Funhouse
Interacting: Nobody Special demytra BriiAngelic Klown ​

---

​

She was buzzing from the stimulant. It was easy to understand how people got addicted to the feeling. It made her sharper, more alive, as it were. But Lola doubted she’d turn it into a hobby—it was too expensive.

At the noise, she perked up. Lola watched as the new guests circled about the room. She giggled: it was comical. It was the pilot of a TV show, unfolding intricacies that could lead to something but it wouldn’t, not yet. Her teeth glinted as her lips spread into a feline grin. To ponder on her place in all this was futile: the answer was simple. There was no place for her until she made one.

Lola hopped up from the desk chair. She planted two quick kisses on each of Sushki’s cheeks before a little wave and a, “Showtime~! Buh-bye!” before she skipped out of the room.

Her destination was a straight shot from the office, but she made a detour. Spotted the stars of the off-stage show and walked over to them instead. Up behind V, where she wouldn't have been seen at first.

See, she was too short to be seen behind V’s tall stature. So she stepped to the side and smiled.

Then she waved with both hands, completely disregarding the private nature of the moment. “Hello, hello! You’re my boss’ friend, yeah?” The question was clearly for Orson, but she tried her best to include the both of them. “Welcome~! Are you staying for the show? You should, you should, if you can. We’re very good, if I do say so myself.” She spoke at breakneck pace.

©miki
​

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: the funhouse
status: i knew things were going too good...
tags: BriiAngelic miki
​

Orson barely fought the airy chuckle from the ticklish ripple along his neck when V burrowed against it, his chest swelling from the unexpectedly endearing gesture. This might be bad for him, this feeling somewhere between sweet and aching. His heart was swayed by it as much as it feared it, a fist squeezed in both defense and offense buried deep between cagey ribs.

Perhaps the allure vested in the comfort that Virgilius didn’t know him as anything other than Orson and not Father Mendel. Two sides of the same coin, yet one side was force-polished until sparkling and reflective while the other side lay in the muck and ash, forgotten and unsightly. V was faced with that debauched side of the coin yet sought him regardless. They were on even-footing; both derelict things that happened to wash up on the same shore. It enticed Orson to want to know more. Why had the month been shit for him? Where had he been prior to this and why was he here now?

Absently, Orson’s fingers toyed with V’s hair, twirling the brown strands around pale digits. The sensation grounded him, made it easier to think. When was the last time he’d gone on a proper date with someone? For the past few years, his relationships were all frivolity at best and mistakes at worst. As far as he was concerned, V had passed any hypothetical checklist there could have been.

“Well, we got names out of the way already, so that’s a pretty good start…” Orson mused, gaze idly reading the labels of the bottles aligning the wall behind the bar. “How old are—Christ almighty!” He jerked at the sight of bright, unblinking eyes and a blissfully unaware smile that awaited him when he glanced back at V.

A queasiness coiled in his stomach at Lola. He instinctively reached to pull the brim of his cap over his face but remembered it’d been lost during the bar fight and grasped only air. Cursing under his breath, Orson’s grip latched onto his cross instead, letting its sharp edges uncomfortably poke his skin.

He wasn’t a deer in headlights; he was a deer that had been rammed into and sent flying—skidding and bouncing—across the road.

“Do you need something?” The words dragged with the weight of his hostility, the arch of a feral cat with its hair jutting out like cautionary spikes. He could only hope she was too baked on whatever Sushki had given her to recognize him as anything more than just her boss' friend.

 

[miki]

Lola Kiss
Location: The Funhouse
Interacting: Klown ​

---

​

Something was wrong. Her bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Why so blue, Orson? Or rather, white. He was quite white already, so the pale mask that crept on his skin made him look like a ghost. Possessed.

And that was funny. Her cheeks puffed up with air as she suppressed a huge laugh. They were tinted blush pink and all. No good! She had to swallow it: this was serious business!

And it was, it was. This interruption she made, it was a faux pas. If she stepped back, she could see the reason why. This was their moment, and she barged in. That was a no-go to most people.

And truly, it gave her no grief. She was only doing her job and being friendly, yes. And the haze would make it easy for them to pick up wherever they left off when she left. But there was something else that pricked at the back of her mind. A foreboding sense of dread. Memory, perhaps?

Perhaps yes. Perhaps no. Perhaps she’d give them another smile now; no going wrong with a smile. She’d save her sales pitch yet.

The corners of her lips stretched wide and twitched, peaking at its limit and still somehow holding back. She was still amused as ever. Her eyes twinkled under the fluorescent fuchsia lights, halogenic and sparkly like a giant, deep, dark, reflecting pool. Mainly because her pupils were so big.

“Nope! Need nothing, nothing needed~♪” She hummed, “‘Cept your undivided attention! Soon.” She swayed back and forth with her hips and the beat of the music, matching the dancers her back was to. “I’m a dancer, you see. It’s fun.” Without missing a beat, she added, “How’dya know my boss? Miss Volkov? Miss Sushki?”

©miki
​

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown ), Lola ( miki )
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  If You Like it or Not
  
  There was a calm that washed over him as he felt the feather light touch of Orson playing with his hair. It was a gesture that few had been willing or wanting to provide him. He could easily dose off right here enjoying the affection and eating up the sound of Orson’s voice.
  
  He heard the beginning of a question from Orson before sudden cursing and got up half expecting another bloody fight to round out the night. As soon as he heard the newcomer he had an idea of what was happening. Cool now a clown was going to be their interruption. He was becoming more and more sure he’d pissed off Oshun in some way. Changó and Elegguá weren’t much help in the love department. If he was lucky he’d still have Elegguá opening doors where others closed.
  
  He adjusted so he could look at the interloper with ease. With little worries left he went in to link his arm with Orson hoping the gesture would give comfort if nothing else. The hostility in the other’s voice was such a surprise and he hated to hear it. He’d much rather go back to the moments where he’d seen the ice melting. With a sigh he looked at the new person.
  
  “We can stay for the show, but uh you interrupted us. Mind if we have this convo later. As you can see we don’t have much attention to give left.”
  
  He took the moment to lean his head back on Orson. His eyes focused on Orson’s expression. With a low voice meant only for Orson’s ears he whispered to the other.
  
  “If she’s too much to deal with I can just try to convince her to scram. Don’t let her get to you, I’m used to distracting weirdos.”
  
  ​

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: the funhouse
status: stress level 500
tags: BriiAngelic miki
​

Unsettled. That was the word. A creeping, gnarled root digging through the joints of his spine, strangling every nerve with the atavistic human instinct to run. An anxiety that raised the hairs on his skin and shallowed his breathing. The less movement of his body the better; maybe she’d get bored and leave. His eyes darted over her body as she swayed to the music, less drawn by the allure and more by prey-animal compulsion.

“What’s it matter to you?” Curt, snappy. The cautionary whip of a stinger. Orson had settled back into his shadows, caked thick around him to shield himself. Shroud himself. One locked bar after another was slammed between him and Lola. But there was something more to that fear, something weeping. A guilt that rotted him still from the core, with Lola pressing her finger into it, carving it open and fresh all again.

V’s comfort nearly went missed, a soft song in a storm of static. The touch felt distant, like it wasn’t his skin being touched. His voice sounded faint, like it wasn’t right beside him. It’s not until V’s lips are beside his ear that Orson blinked awake with the quiet startle of a bad dream. What was he asking?

“No—” The word cut out of him so abruptly it surprised even himself, his hand grabbing V’s forearm before the command even left his brain. The icy fury in his eyes melted into something softer, something mutedly desperate. He released V’s arm as if it hurt to touch him but ached just as much to let him go.

Get it together, Mendel. He inhaled deep through his nose, then exhaled like a man approaching the gallows.

“Sushki and I have been friends for a while. That’s more than enough for you to know.” His voice was stern, steady. Spoken with the intentionality of someone trying to walk in a straight line. “If there’s nothing else, then you can leave now.”