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Realistic or Modern Red Ledger: Part One

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snakeg0dd

snakeg0dd

living paradox





















  • intro
































    Black Widow



    Samuel Kim


























    overview.



    "S
    omtimes the best thing we can do is to keep moving forward.”　━　Peggy Carter

    The safehouse in Prague was an old, nondescript building tucked between a row of similar structures, its weathered stone façade blending seamlessly with the architecture of the surrounding neighborhood. It had once been a modest residence but had long since been repurposed for its new, covert use. From the outside, there was nothing to indicate the hidden life within. A narrow alley ran alongside it, providing both an inconspicuous entrance and a potential escape route.

    The entryway was accessed via a heavy wooden door that creaked slightly on its rusted hinges. Once inside, a dimly lit hallway greeted visitors, the walls lined with peeling wallpaper and the faint scent of old wood and cigarettes from Camilla lingered in the air. The space was simple but effective: no real decorations, no personal touches, just the essentials and a few potted plants here and there. At the end of the hall, a narrow set of stairs led up to the main living quarters, a single bulb flickering overhead.

    The safehouse’s interior was split into three main rooms: a living area, a kitchen, and two bedrooms—one small, one larger. The living room, the most central space, was utilitarian but comfortable. It was sparse, with mismatched furniture that included a threadbare couch, two armchairs, and a low wooden coffee table scattered with maps and documents. Large windows looked out onto the street below, the curtains partially drawn to keep the light out, though allowing for occasional glimpses outside to monitor any movement.

    To the left of the living room, the kitchen was cramped but functional. Its countertops were chipped, and the old sink had a persistent drip. A single stove, a small fridge, and a few cupboards filled the space, stocked with dry goods and supplies for their stay. A door off the kitchen led to a narrow back stairwell, which could serve as an emergency exit if needed. It opened up into a side alleyway that was hidden from street view—a perfect escape route if things went south.

    The bedrooms were tucked away down a short, narrow corridor that branched off from the living room. The first room was small, barely enough space for a single bed and a nightstand. It had no windows, making it the safest place in the house for sleeping without the risk of being seen or targeted. The larger bedroom, at the far end of the hallway, had a bit more space, with three cots pushed against opposite walls, each with its own view of the alley below through small, narrow windows. Heavy blackout curtains hung there, allowing them to block out the light completely and keep hidden.

    A single bathroom sat between the two rooms, its cracked tile floor and leaky faucet giving away its age. The mirror above the sink was smudged, and the dim overhead light flickered every now and then, casting shadows along the walls.

    The points of entry were few but strategically chosen for quick exit if necessary. Aside from the main front door and the back stairwell, there was a hidden trapdoor behind a bookcase in the living room that led to the basement. From there, an old passage connected to the building next door—a relic from the second World War that made for a discreet escape route. The windows in each room were reinforced with sturdy glass, though they could be opened if a rooftop escape was ever needed.

    The air inside the safehouse was thick with tension. Camilla, Sera, Boone, Kyo, and Silas had been holed up here for hours, waiting for Yelena’s return. The safehouse felt more like a cage than a sanctuary, but it was, nonetheless, safe—for now. Silas stood near one of the living room windows, keeping watch over the narrow street below. He could see the comings and goings of pedestrians, but no sign of Yelena yet. Behind him, the others went about their business and Silas didn't pay much attention to them. His minded kept racing over the fact that Yelena took this job on her own, something that hadn't occurred ever since he joined her in her crusade. Though Yelena could take care of herself—and even take on the group as a whole—Silas had an eery feeling about this exfil mission.

    Yelena had left hours earlier after receiving intel about a sudden breakout at one of the academies. She had followed the trail of the escaping group and, after tracking them down, had sent the rest of them to another safehouse in Germany while taking Maera—the Hound—with her. Yelena recognized something familiar in Maera, a sense that the girl was more than just another escapee. The others had arrived safely, but now they all waited anxiously for Yelena to return.

    The sun outside was bright, casting long shadows through the thin gaps in the curtains. Despite the daylight, the air inside the safehouse felt heavy, almost suffocating, as they waited for news, for Yelena, and for whatever came next. They all knew it—Yelena’s return would bring them a new ally, but also a new level of danger. The ICA didn’t let go of its assets easily, and with Maera now in their care, the stakes had just been raised.

    Cutting the air was the sound of floor creaks as the handle to the door made a rusted sound and in walked two people, Yelena and Maera.
































intro



roles



rules








stay strong, hold fast,



remain steady, be
brave








genre



drama, thriller, adventure, action







status



closed







gms



snakeg0dd snakeg0dd







questions?



can be answered











cs





ic





ooc
















♡coded by uxie♡
 
mood :
mellow

location :
prague safehouse
outfit :
mentions :
honeycoves honeycoves Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova calliope-3 calliope-3 Vaalhalla Vaalhalla CHUUYAS_HAT CHUUYAS_HAT

interactions :
n/a
The Soldier
Silas - 033
A FEW HOURS AGO...
Silas stood in the Dark Room, a cavernous space, its walls lined with thick, blackened steel that absorbed sound and light, giving it an oppressive, suffocating feel. The cold air bit at Silas' skin as the overhead lights dimmed to a beaming red. The room was illuminated faintly to create a sense of panic with each member of the Sparrow Academy in the Dark Room. The metallic scent of sweat and blood clung to the air, and some even leftover from the session prior. He could hear the distant hum of machinery, but his focus was on the figures around him and the eyes monitoring him from behind the observation room's glass. Sparrows—his brothers—circled him, their expressions hard, their eyes filled with the same silent dread he felt. He knew what was coming. They all did.

The buzzers blared, a shrill sound that sent adrenaline surging through his veins. Without hesitation, the Sparrows launched at each other, fists flying, bodies colliding, weapons and bare skin making contact with one another. Silas moved on instinct, his training kicking in with brutal efficiency. His footwork was flawless, quick jabs and counters making contact as he ducked and weaved through the chaos. As more energy was exerted, there was more luminescence from his body, the blood in his veins radiating a hue of blue as he kept fighting.

One of his brothers came at him from the left—a tall, lean boy with fierce eyes and his hands discharging ember and smoke. Silas sidestepped the incoming boy, driving an elbow into his ribs, feeling the sharp crack of bone beneath his strike. The boy crumpled, gasping, but there was no time for hesitation. Another Sparrow rushed him, this one faster, his movements a blur. Silas picked the gasping lean boy up by his shirt and tossed him at the new incoming Sparrow. He was quick to dodge the body flying at him, and threw a punch at Silas. The Soldier caught his wrist mid-punch, twisting it until he heard the snap of bones. The boy's scream echoed in the room, but it was quickly drowned out by the others, the constant sound of flesh hitting flesh, of pain and desperation, of terror and pleas for help. Silas moved like a machine against his brothers, every strike precise, every block calculated. But beneath the cold efficiency, something was festering—an unease that grew with each brutal hit he delivered. Why was this necessary? Why were they forced to tear each other apart like this?

The boy fell to the floor, clutching his broken wrist, but Silas didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His body refused to. He turned, narrowly avoiding another strike from a larger Sparrow, his knuckles connecting with the boy’s jaw with a sickening thud. The boy staggered back, blood spilling from his split lip, but Silas pressed forward, driving a knee into his gut, sending him to hurl over by the force of Silas' knee. Silas took the opportunity to trap the larger boy's left arm and sent a kick to the Sparrow's right ankle, pushing it out of place. This was a threat to Silas by stature and skill and he had to neutralize the threat as soon as possible. He continued his onslaught by an elbow strike to the guy's head and twisting the trapped arm behind his back, snapping the bones and tendons out of place; he followed up with a quick placement to grip the boy's throat from behind and threw the large Sparrow hurdling at two Sparrows coming to rush the young Silas.

More kept coming. It was endless. Silas’ muscles burned, his breath ragged, and his veins pulsated an even brighter blue now. But his body kept moving, kept fighting. His training demanded it.

Suddenly, a sharp pain bloomed in his side—a punch he hadn’t seen coming. He spun to face his attacker, his vision readjusting for a moment. It was one of the newer Sparrows, younger, smaller, but quick. The boy’s face was twisted with fear and determination as he came at Silas again, his fists wild and unrefined. Silas blocked the blows easily, stepping into the boy’s space, his hands moving faster than his thoughts. A punch to the face to disorient, a knee to the chest, then a final blow—a brutal strike to the neck.

The boy went down hard, clutching at his throat.

Silas froze, his heart pounding in his ears. The boy lay motionless on the cold floor, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood trickled from his nose, pooling beneath him. For a second, everything seemed to stop—the noise, the fighting, the chaos. It all faded into a distant hum as Silas stared down at the boy’s lifeless body. There was no sound. No more movement.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Silas dropped to his knees beside him, shaking him. "Hey. Hey, Get up," he whispered, his voice hoarse. But the boy didn’t move. "Come on, get up! I didn't hit you that hard!" The panic rose in his chest, cold and choking. He shook the boy harder, but it was no use. His eyes were open, staring, but there was no life in them. Silas’ hands were covered in blood—the boy's—and no matter how hard he tried to wipe it away, it stuck to him, staining his skin, his soul.

He felt the other Sparrows watching him now, their eyes wide with horror and accusation. They were still fighting, but their movements slowed, as if the room itself had grown heavier, darker. Silas looked around, desperate, but all he saw were faces twisted with pain, blood staining their clothes, their skin. Faces of his brothers and sisters that he had hurt, broken, just like the boy at his feet.

"You did this."

The voice was faint, almost a whisper, but it cut through Silas like a knife. He looked down. The boy’s lips hadn’t moved, but he could hear him, clear as day. "You killed me."

Silas stumbled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked at his hands again, the blood dripping from his fingers, pooling around him. The weight of what he had done crushed him, suffocating. All but one of the lights shut off, just one illuminating Silas standing at the edge of the cone of dark red light and the boy below him. The room spun, the walls closing in, trapping him in this nightmare of his own making. The faces of the other Sparrows blurred, their voices fading into an overwhelming cacophony of guilt and fear. The only distinct feature were their eyes: an eery purple barreling holes at Silas. He tried to stand, tried to escape, but his legs wouldn’t move. He was stuck in the blood, in the horror, in the endless cycle of violence.

"You’re one of us, Silas. You always will be."

The boy’s dead eyes stared up at him, accusing, as the room dissolved into darkness, swallowing Silas whole.
Springing forth from his sleep, Silas jolted upright, gasping softly as his eyes scanned the dimly sunlit room. The cold, familiar sight of the rundown safehouse greeted him—walls chipped with age, shadows creeping in from the corners. He took a moment to ground himself, feeling the clammy touch of sweat clinging to his skin. The cot beneath him was rusted and dingy, the springs groaning with every movement. Whether it was the discomfort of the cot or the nightmare that had plagued him since he was eleven, the result was the same—another restless night. He could still feel the lingering remnants of the dream, the vivid memories of the combat drills and the faces of his fellow Sparrows haunting him like phantoms. With a slow exhale, he took stock of his surroundings. The others in the room were still sleeping, their figures vague and indistinct in the low light. Silas didn't care who they were, but their steady breathing reminded him that he was back in reality. He used their presence as a grounding technique, just as Yelena had taught him on the very first night he spent with her.

Carefully, he slipped out of the cot, cautious not to disturb anyone awake. His body ached from the nightmare’s grip, but his movements were calculated and quiet. He crossed the cold, bare floor to the small bathroom, where he washed the remnants of the restless night away. The splash of cold water on his face stung, but it helped him focus. He brushed his teeth, staring into the cracked mirror. His reflection was distorted in places, but he saw enough—his tired eyes, shaggy hair, the subtle glow of his veins as the adrenaline slowly faded from his body.

After his quick shower, which could last only a few minutes to preserve hot water, Silas returned to the room, where his meager selection of clothes awaited him. Four outfits. That was all he had, but it didn’t bother him. He preferred simplicity, and it helped him blend in. He pulled on a dark compression shirt, utility pants, and his worn boots. As he tightened his belt and fastened his knife harness around his shoulders, he felt the familiar weight of his gear settle against his body, grounding him a little further. It was the irony that Silas was able to intellectualize, that the horror of his own memories were because of the bloodshed and equipment to seriously hurt others but at the same time provided him with a sense of safety.

He left the room and made his way to the kitchen where the scent of old coffee greeted him. Yelena had brewed it earlier before heading out on her mission, and though it wasn’t fresh, it was enough to wake him fully. His breakfast was simple—yogurt and granola with a mix of fruits, just enough to keep him sharp. The coffee was bitter, but he downed it quickly, savoring the small jolt of energy it gave him. As he ate, his mind wandered back to Yelena. She had gone on an exfil mission alone, something that still unsettled him. Silas knew she was more than capable—stubborn, too, when it came to her own safety—but over the past two years, she had become more than a mentor to him. She was a protector, someone he had come to view as a surrogate mother, even if he never said it out loud. His emotions and attachment to Yelena were strong because of the care she had continuously given him. His mind also rambled to the picture he kept of his biological mother. It was safe in the innermost pocket of his pants, and when he needed it most he would take it out to look at the eager young woman who only wanted a child. Her smile in the picture was infectious and Silas couldn't help but not smile in return whenever he saw it.

After finishing his meal, Silas moved to the living room, standing by the window as the early morning light filtered through the glass, partly covered by the curtains. His eyes remained focused on the street outside, scanning for anything unusual. The rest of the safehouse began to stir behind him, the sounds of the others waking up filling the quiet. Silas gave a subtle nod as they passed by, but his attention remained fixed on his guard. The wait felt like an eternity, the silence only broken by the faint creaks of the old wooden floor.

Then, the familiar sound of the front door creaking open reached his ears, followed by the unmistakable groan of the rusted hinges. He turned to see two figures stepping into the room.

They were here.
coded by reveriee.
 
Last edited:
Location
The safehouse in Prague

Outfit
Here

Characters
Silas, Camilla, Kyo, Boone, Yelena, Maera

Sera (057)

Sera spent half the time that Yelena was out of the safe house pacing, feeling like a caged animal and the other half puking her guts out. Apparently, that’s what a multimonth-long bender that comes to a sudden stop and being poisoned does to someone. Once she was done she rooted through the kitchen for foods high in calcium and cysteine to make the use of the abilities easier. She went through the fridge and cupboards with the audacity of someone who had lived there for a while, despite only having been in the safe house for two days. When she found her queries she retreated warily to the living room. She didn’t fully trust everyone at the safe house, except Camilla, who she trusted with her life due to an incident before either of them left the ICA. She didn’t know Silas or Kyo well, and she definitely didn’t trust Boone after the stunt he pulled to get her here, despite begrudgingly respecting him for it.

When Yelena finally made it back with Maera in tow she started laughing hysterically in a way caught somewhere between incredulity and mania. “You’re kidding me. You’re risking our lives for this bitch? She’s the ICA’s prized show dog! If you think they’ll let her go missing just slide you are sorely mistaken. And if you think she’s on our side you’d be an even bigger fool. She used to just stand and watch us in the red room trainings. She’d just stand and watch like the rest of us widows were some kind of spectacle! She’s more of a rat than a dog since she snitched on so many girls at the ICA.” Sera was practically spitting with anger as she finished her rant. “Not such a good doggie now are you? Did your precious handler finally decide to put you down, mutt?”
coded by reveriee.
 


















good morning...





"I weep for god who had to decide whether you should be born or not."


The sudden movement all around Kyomu startled him awake from his sleep. In the dim room he caught sight of Silas' and Seraphina's cots empty. As expected, Silas was one of the most cautious of the group while Sera...well he didn't know the gal much anyway. But Kyo did certainly organize everyone into sections with a word atop their head to describe them in his head. It was key knowledge to know Sera had some sort of short fuse and was high full of herself- at least from his perspective. Boone on the other hand was...lazy. It wasn't explainable necessarily, but Kyomu supposed Boone did most/some of the dirty work. Silas was unknown- he hadn't found a word to describe the younger one just yet.

He sat up, fatigue blurring his vision for just a moments wait before he forced himself up and into the bathroom. The usual noises from cabinet searching was heard, and he quickly got his appearance fixed. After a small bun set in the right place and a pair of clothes he probably worn seventeen times plus- though he most likely worn others for longer- Kyo stepped foot into the kitchen he regretted it instantly. The awful voice of someone ranting off angrily hit his ears and caused them to nearly ring!

"Please don't tell me the bitch is at it again..."

He half heartedly mutter, peeking just slightly into the room to see Yelena back with a recognizable girl- someone from the ICA. Maera to be exact. The fucking lapdog of the ICA.






























"Fuck You!"












♡coded by uxie♡

 
Last edited:
font call font call font call
4Ø4:the//scholar
Camilla Isabella Beltran
Location // Prague
Status // Hungry
Last Slept // 28hrs ago
Outfit // Cozy
The consistent soft sound of a keyboard rattling under diligent typing was the only sound that came out of the tech room commandeered by the figure sitting in the rolling chair. It was more figure than actual person given how their frame was swallowed up by a black hoodie that was far too large to be her own– borrowed from another Agent. The hood was pulled forward so that the operator’s face was completely obscured with the only visible features from the girl inside being her slender fingers flying around her keyboard. The room was a touch chilly with the window beside her server racks cracked slightly to allow the thin curls of cigarette smoke to slowly drift outside; this was a slightly newer habit given how Yelena would scold her about her smoking. Agent 404, more commonly referred to as Camilla, was working on providing overwatch while the ex-Wolf and surrogate mother to the Escapees went off on a solo mission to exfiltrate a new recruit. Something had happened and Yelena’s tracker had been turned off some time into the operation but that didn’t stop the girl in the chair from doing everything in her power to track the Wolf using various other means.
Camilla reached over to grab the mug on her desk, it was chipped but she kept it because of the cute teddy bear motif on the front. Furrowing her brow at the weight and lack thereof, she peered into it and saw that it was empty.
‘When the hell–’
She set it back down with a disappointed grunt and turned her eyes back to her monitors. There were live feeds of CCTV cameras playing as well as satellite images that updated every minute and showed various views of Prague and neighboring cities where the operation was supposed to take place. There was very little that rattled The Scholar but this was an exception given exactly WHO it was that was out there without backup. There had been a lot of discourse surrounding Yelena’s solo-op but in the end she won. Camilla had provided a briefing full of hard facts and statistics for a successful mission if she would just take one other Agent with her but still, even with all the data, Yelena refused and went off on her own.
‘Fuuuuucking Wolf–’
The tech savvy Agent hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours and her cantankerousness reflected in her thoughts. Frustrated with the turn of events and unforeseen variables throwing wrenches into her work, Camilla pushed herself from her desk with a huff and got up to refill her coffee mug. She looked like a hoodie-ghost while walking about; her mind continued to make connections and queries even while away from her battle station. Shuffling quietly, the small frame poured old coffee into her bear mug and cradled it in both her hands when she noticed a familiar figure standing by the large street-facing windows in the shared living area. She had half a mind to continue back to her room without saying anything but the mechanical cadence of the voice in her head chimed in:
‘Greet team members upon seeing them to open up an option for rapport. Rapport builds connection and connection breeds trust and trust leads to synergy and synergy leads to good morale.’ This was the usual methodical way her mind worked when not dealing with raw data and information– just endless strings of inputs and queries. Interpersonal connections were the hardest concept to grasp for Camilla but she still tried her best.
“Good morning, Silas.” She offered a small smile hidden within the deep hood she was concealed within and shuffled back into ‘her’ room to get back to work.
The keyboard rattled away again, a telltale sign that The Scholar was at work.
When a ping on Yelena’s location was finally reached, Camilla focused her peripheral applications to further refine the data received. She sat forward in her seat, eyes zeroed in on the flying screens of code and firewalls she whizzed through in order to ensure the Wolf made it home with the new package in tow. It wasn’t much longer until the creaky front door squeaked open and the other Escapees roused to meet the new recruit. Things were off to a VERY good start–
Camilla glanced over at the open door to her office which allowed the unbidden anger from the others to drift in. With a deep sigh, she slipped out of her seat but stopped to pull upon the ever-stuck top drawer of the desk her computer sat upon and pulled out a long object which disappeared into the long sleeve of her oversized hoodie. She poked her head out of her room to see that Silas, Yelena, Sera, Kyo…and their new member, Maera, were gathered out in the living area. An even longer sigh deflated the small figure as she came out of her den and stood beside Sera. The object Camilla had grabbed from her desk, a full-sized trail mix bar, was passed off into The Chameleon’s hand in hopes to quell the early morning rage that came with their newest arrival. While Maera wasn’t at the top of Camilla’s list of potential Agents for their cause…there had to be a logical reason for Yelena to risk her neck like that.
And risk the rest of THEM for that matter–
“I…guess you didn’t recruit us for the Welcoming Committee–?” Camilla tugged down her hood and met eyes with Yelena; her brow was quirked curiously at the surprising turn of events even though her joke was very Conrad-coded.
tag here
tag here
 







It's no big surprise you turned out this way


He had only been half asleep, but he had been asleep enough to be pissed when he found himself disturbed. Her maniacal laughter cut through the walls of the safe house, almost instantly filling him with rage. He bolted upright, clutching the pillow in his hands.

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?!" Boone snapped, throwing the bedroom door open with a heavy slam. He had slept in the small, single-bed room for the first time in weeks, a suggestion from some of the team for him to get some restful sleep since he'd been on edge lately. Usually, he refused. He hated sleeping, and usually found himself staying up with Camilla as she did whatever the hell she was always doing on that damn computer. But after staking out the clubs for a week, sleeping less than usual, damn near getting stabbed, and having to listen to this bitch loose her mind for the last two days, he was more irritable than usual. If that was even possible. And here Sera was, disturbing him again.

He seethed, glaring at the blonde who had joined them in the last few days. He should've left her ass in that grimy club he found her in. He should've kept his mouth shut about seeing her shift. He should've never agreed to bring her back to the others. He should've tried to stab her back.

He stood in the doorway with his messy dark hair, dark circles under his eyes, shirtless and in baggy basketball shorts that were years passed their life cycle. The slash on his shoulder— the slash she had given him in a feeble attempt to escape before she was wrested to the ground and back in the safehouse— was on full display, having mostly scabbed over and bandages abandoned. It paired nicely with the fresh scar that a bullet to the chest had given him.

"No one here got their fucking panties in a twist when you showed up!" He shouted. Personally, he wasn't exactly stoked about the addition of Maera himself. He was familiar with her work, and she was a dog of high pedigree. Dangerous too. She had serious connections, having worked with Otto-Schmidt himself, earning his praise herself. Everyone else had to be suspecting that this was a trap, that she was bound to cross them, that Yelena had just dropped a live bomb into their little nest. But goddamn it, his hatred for 57 in this moment greatly outweighed any resistance he had to Yelena's plan.

Boone heaved the pillow, whipping it across the room, aiming for Seraphina's big head. "Seriously, Sera! Shut up!"

It was rare for him to listen to, or even support Yelena, without opposition. However, he found himself driven to be a contrarian to Sera's nonsense. He'd rather challenge her at every turn rather than challenge Yelena. Plus, he didn't believe he could drive Yelena as crazy as he could drive Sera.

He slunk across the room, throwing himself down onto the unoccupied couch, and arming himself with another pillow to smack The Chameleon with if she lost her fucking marbles again. He crossed his arms over the throw pillow, holding it close to his chest. "So what's her deal?" He leveled his dark eyes on Yelena, jerking his head towards Maera. "I mean she has to have a deal right? Yelena doesn't trade lives."








search









boone hadley.


Tell me, where did you sleep last night?
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun don't ever shine
I would shiver the whole night through








mood.
Pissed.

location.
Safehouse

mention.
Sera, Yelena, Maera, crew.








killing in the name by rage against the machine





© weldherwings.
 
mood :
uneased (Silas)
hopeful (Yelena)

location :
prague safehouse
outfit :

mentions :
honeycoves honeycoves Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova calliope-3 calliope-3 Vaalhalla Vaalhalla CHUUYAS_HAT CHUUYAS_HAT

interactions :
honeycoves honeycoves calliope-3 calliope-3 Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova Vaalhalla Vaalhalla
Yelena &
Silas - 033
Silas stood by the window, the morning light streaming in through the sliver of separated blackout curtains, but still failing to penetrate the heavy tension in the room. He glanced back out at the streets of Prague, searching for clarity in the chaos. Behind him, he could hear the murmur of voices—each one laced with skepticism and doubt regarding Maera’s presence. He spun back around, this time catching Boone, shirtless and clearly agitated, as a pillow flew across the room, smacking the Chameleon squarely in the face. He scoffed at Boone's antics, "Some things never change." Silas thought to himself. Amidst the unfolding sibling chaos, Yelena stood with a resolute expression.

“Do you really think this was the right move?” Silas asked quietly, his brow furrowed with concern, in addition to the pile of questions piling up against Yelena. “Bringing her here without backup, especially after everything we’ve been through?”

While Silas felt an overwhelming amount of sympathy for what Maera had endured, his doubts lingered. He recalled what he had learned about her through the briefing with Camilla and Yelena. She had been the 'lapdog' for Dr. Otto-Schmidt and the ICA, rooting out insurgents and thwarting escape attempts at every possible corner. Was this new situation just another trap? Perhaps the ICA wanted her to be taken by an ex-communicated ICA member. Silas couldn't help but keep his guard up for the moment, ready to defend.

Yelena took a breath, her gaze unwavering as she raised her hand to calm the increasingly chaotic household. “I understand the doubt and hesitation many of you are feeling right now,” she said, scanning the room and trying to provide a reassuring smile. “But Maera has skills that could be invaluable to us. We can’t afford to turn away potential allies, especially someone with her experience. If we’re going to stand a chance against the ICA, we need all hands on deck.”

She glanced over to Maera, giving her shoulder a light squeeze in an attempt to soothe her undoubtedly tense feelings; she flashed Maera the Yelena signature wink, accompanied by a warm smile, before making her way to the kitchen table, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the one chair as she maneuvered.

“We aren’t trading lives,” she continued, wanting to address Boone's concerns without calling him out directly, which she had learned was the best way to communicate with him. “She’s just like all of you. She's endured so much pain and torment and trauma, and now she has a chance to be free—the same chance all of you have now. I’d like for everyone to help Maera feel welcome and cared for because she needs that. You all did at one point or another.” She caught Kyo's eyes for a couple of seconds, thinking about how she and Silas found Kyo after a time in which he needed help the most, post-escape from the ICA.

Yelena turned her gaze back to Silas for a second, silently asking for help in keeping their discombobulated ‘family’ together. Then she looked to Camilla, who could be trusted just as much as Silas—if not more at times. Yelena knew that Sera and Camilla had some history with one another. It was hard enough to manage one sassy kid; two would be a challenge.

Silas crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “I get that, but there’s a difference between using someone’s skills and trusting them. What if she’s a liability? We can’t forget what they did to us.”

Yelena stepped closer, her voice firm yet gentle. “I know the risks. I wouldn’t have put myself—and all of you—on the line if I didn’t believe this was the best decision. I’ve seen the darkness this world hides, and I refuse to let it dictate our future. You know I would do anything to protect all of you from it. Please, I need you to trust me on this.”

Silas nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words. He let out a small sigh, pushing off the wall and stepping closer to Yelena. “Alright." He took a beat, still wanting to resist against this blind faith in Maera, but he did trust Yelena more than anything. "We can all try,” he said, specifically turning his attention to Boone and Sera, “to keep an open mind and be more receptive.”

Yelena smiled as a way to say thank you. “That’s all I ask. Together, we’ll figure this out. Just remember—communication is key. We need to be able to rely on each other, now more than ever.”

Yelena had made her way to the small pantry cupboard, retrieving a couple of breakfast bars from the stash of rations that were in desperate need of replenishing and pacing her way back to Maera, offering her one.

As Silas looked back at the group, he felt a flicker of determination. They had come too far to let fear dictate their actions. Together, they would have to navigate this uncertain territory and ensure their survival—one step at a time.
coded by reveriee.
 
Location
The safehouse in Prague

Outfit
Here

Characters
Silas, Camilla, Kyo, Boone, Yelena, Maera

Sera (057)

The pillow hit her square in the face causing her to let out a sound close to a growl.

Boone had done nothing but antagonize her from the second she met him. Although she had known he disliked her from the moment they met at the club, which was probably why she went with him in the first place. She didn’t know her exact reasoning. Maybe it was the delicious feeling of a mutual hatred; maybe she just needed a distraction; maybe deep down she could sense he was different like her; or maybe she just fell under the wrong person's spell again, after all, she seemed all too easy to enchant. After two days of Boone attempting to poison her, throw various other items at her, and goad her into anger at least once an hour, she really wished she'd dug in that knife a little deeper. He was wearing his prettily healing scar like a badge of honor even though it was so shallow he didn't even need stitches.

She let the pillow drop to the floor and accepted the trail mix bar from Camilla, who had an uncanny ability to know her favorite flavor of all her favorite snacks. She grumbled to herself as she opened the bar and bit off a large chunk, turning away from the safehouse entrance to slink off somewhere else. Turning to walk off she hissed at Boone flashing a pair of literal fangs and crimson red eyes before throwing the trail mix wrapper at him and stalking off back towards the cot Camilla was letting her use to root through the bag she kept stashed under it.
coded by reveriee.
 
M
aera knew what she had done was wrong.


For years she had been so obedient, so submissive to it all and sure in her mission, her purpose. Obeying every command, and achieving near flawlessness all for the sake of gratifying her superiors decisions and intentions. It was easy, even, almost like a routine.

Day in and day out, Maera had one job, obey, and nothing came to a surprise or interruption to the schedule that she followed. So when everything began to change she couldn't understand why she didn't stop herself before things got too far.

Reeducation or physical conditioning did nothing to halt her downfall, and instead Maera soon found herself a slave to these new feelings. Curiosity drove her at the forefront of it all, and the more she interacted with others the more she began to feel.

So when she had felt that first bullet enter her shoulder a sense of relief had filled her. She was finally being stopped, put down in her rabid state. Everything they did for her, everything her Handler had done for her, and this was how she repaid them. Betrayal and insubordination. By the time the second, and third bullet entered her, Maera had already stopped in her tracks and allowed them to hit her. So when that fourth bullet was aimed at her skull, her Handler hovering over her like an angel there to save her from sin, Maera closed her eyes and allowed herself to be taken.

"Worthless dog."​

Those words were unexpected and sharp, and when her suffering wasn't put to an end and she was instead saved, Maera felt her world crumble. Literal freedom was not something she had sought out or truly wanted however, it wasn't even a word she truly understood at the time. So had she been conscious at all when Yelena dragged her wounded body out of the facility with the rest of the escapee's, Maera more than likely would have fought to remain in order for to be properly terminated. In every way, the ICA and her Handler were her whole world, and to know that this was how she was thought of now was crushing and only death could have freed her from that knowledge.

When she had first woken up, in an unfamiliar face with a not so unfamiliar person, Maera immediately resisted. First it was the guilt and regret; initially physically attempting to fight her way out from their temporary safehouse, all of which only caused her wounds to reopen and for Yelena to subdue her. When acceptance of the situation finally settled in, the words of her Handler replayed in her mind like an broken record.

Hopelessness and abandonment taking hold of her and pushing her to make one final attempt -- a grab at Yelena's gun to take herself out, but like before the attempt failed. There was no longer any fight in her for the rest of the journey. Maera entering a near catatonic state, refusing to eat or speak much, much less letting Yelena change out her bandages or check her wounds any further.

PRAUGE : THE SAFEHOUSE​

Before she had even arrived Maera could smell all of them. Students, or rather previous students, of the ICA were sheltered here, all of them on the inner circles Watch List. One, two.. four of them, maybe? It was hard to focus now, Maera's body showing visible signs of fever now as her gun shot wounds were already beginning to fester and reopen from the bandages worn and dirty state. Mentally, and physically, the girl was exhausted, and upon entering the safehouse the greeting they received was equally overwhelming, and overstimulating.

57, the Chameleon, was the first to speak, yelling at the Hound upon her arrival and spitting awful words at her. "Did your precious handler finally decide to put you down, mutt?" Terror, rage, confusion, regret. All of these things rushed at her at once, the empty feeling that had kept her so complacent beginning to slip up as her hands balled slowly in white knuckled fists.

Yelena had warned her of this, and despite her broken state, Maera wasn't stupid. She knew how others saw her at the academies, and especially in the eyes of the escaped students she was still the enemy. However, they knew not of her betrayal and actions. But even as Yelena spoke of her now having a chance at freedom, the girl couldn't help but feel uncomfortable by that statement.

Was that what truly what she wanted? A chance at freedom? To be accepted by others? These things were all so new and trivial to her, and all that it really did was add to the nausea she was currently feeling. The room was beginning to spin now, a ringing growing loud in her own ears, and as Yelena held a breakfast bar out to her a cold chill ran down her spine. Stomach flipping suddenly, and before she could stop herself or even catch it in her own hands, Maera vomited all over the floor.
"You should have just left me there..."
Maera - The Hound
location:
Prague; The Safehouse
outfit:
interactions:
Yelena, Silas, Sera, Boone, Carmilla, and Kyo
 
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4Ø4:the//scholar
Camilla Isabella Beltran
Location // Prague
Status // Hungry || Irritated
Last Slept // 28hrs ago
Outfit // Casual
Mentions // Yelena ;; Maera ;; Boone ;; Sera
With half a mind to pull her hood back on and head back to her office, Camilla couldn’t help but make eye contact with Yelena and silently wonder what possibly went through her head to even think about bringing such a dangerous person into the precarious fold. Maera had a concerning amount of intel and was known to be THE person that would pose the greatest risk to their mission in dismantling the ICA. It seemed an unnecessary risk to be taking given all they’d been through…and Camilla wasn’t the sort to go off of blind faith. Blind faith was an uneducated way of thinking– relying on hope was elementary when there were more assured ways to manipulate outcomes. This was testing even the Scholar’s limits of parallel reasoning and she hadn’t had nearly enough coffee to work out the solution to this new variable.
‘We can’t turn away potential allies but that would require there BEING an ally being introduced in the first place. Maera is not an ally but the reason why many who even thought about rebelling were never seen or heard from again. She is the ICA’s lapdog and Dr. Otto-Schmidt’s pet. I don’t like her being here– I’m sure no one likes her being here and I cannot help but wonder if this is the harbinger of terrible things to come.’ Camilla couldn’t readily voice her thoughts or opinions on the matter without offering more negative sentiment– something which was already covered in spades.
Looking back at the rest of the group, Camilla’s discerning gaze fell upon Maera before being redirected to Yelena. She questioned the oddly tenderhearted angle with which Yelena tried to reason with everyone but the Wolf was just that sort of person– deeply feeling. Camilla raised a hand, index finger extended to point upward before turning it at herself and then towards the direction Sera had gone off in: she was excusing herself from the conversation. As she crossed the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, Camilla removed the oversized hoodie she wore and followed towards the back rooms where the other Agents usually slept. As she passed the couch Boone was laid out on, she dropped the hoodie onto his chest and kept onward.
“It’s cold.”
Standing in the doorway, not yet wanting to disturb the relative peace that was returning to the safehouse, Camilla lightly knocked upon the chipped wooden door frame to announce her presence– she had a tendency to just pop up and appear at times like a spectre.
“I’ve got some electrolytes if you need some,” Her keen gaze fell upon Sera’s rummaging and briefly wondered what she was looking for before recalling the debrief from a two-day long attempt at recruitment and the state she was found in. “If that’s what you’re looking for anyway. Nothing stronger I’m afraid.”
Crossing her arms over her chest with the bottle of water in her grasp, the Scholar let out a soft sigh. Weariness didn’t usually manifest in her very often; an entire life dedicated to the constant pursuit of knowledge, which only amplified exponentially upon escaping, made sleep deprivation as much a part of her as her own modified DNA. The introduction of a very uncalled-for variable had already thrown a wrench in the team’s shaky synergy and The Hound hadn’t even done anything yet. Something akin to annoyance or irritation started to take root in Camilla’s current feelings on Yelena but there was little logical reason to allow it to stay…and so as easily as it appeared, it was shut off and compartmentalized for later assessment.
“How are you…feeling? Aside from the whole Maera thing?”
As if on cue, the sound of someone getting ill just outside floated down the hallway and reached Camilla’s ears. She grimaced lightly, her nose wrinkling just so as she glanced behind her and wondered why this new variable had been added to their complicated equation. She wasn’t yet prepared to deal with the Hound but knew that duty would call her before her own personal feelings would come around.
tag here
tag here
 
Last edited:


















good morning...





"I weep for god who had to decide whether you should be born or not."


With a begrudging sigh, Kyomu quickly shoed away Yelena's lecture in his head and tightened the drawstrings of my hoodie to cinch the hood around his face. Her way to make things enthusiastic only seemed to make everyone else worse, but at least Sera seemed to quite down- with a few sent death glares to Boone that is. He never really understood why they kept that rivalry, but he wasn't one who wanted to necessarily find out. They had their own business, and he had his-

A sudden disgusting smell wafted to his nose and he nearly gagged. The sound of the 'new-kid' vomiting got him reeling, and Kyomu exited the room in a hurry. He gave one mere glance to Boone who was on the couch, and one to Silas before fleeing to a small corner. He wasn't always like this, only ever irritated on few things-little sleep was one thing for sure. He'd normally be cheery all day, yapping about which probably make him sound the annoying of the most. Surprisingly, he wasn't. And yet he settled besides the wooden wall, he didn't want to close his eyes just yet. A small crack was just big enough for Kyomu to catch the sight of the outside. It wasn't much, but any person would feel grateful of seeing nature when previously locked up in a place which definitely did not help people who were mental.

"I didn't even eat anything yet..."

He groaned, which turned out to be a whine. He didn't want to leave the hole that leaked sunlight, so he sat tight.

"What the hell am I doing, I look like a damn emo-"

Suddenly all went blank, and the next thing he knew, his head was leaning against the wall.































"Fuck You!"












♡coded by uxie♡

 
Last edited:
Location
The safehouse in Prague

Outfit
Here

Characters
Camilla, Sera, Boone, Kyo, Maera, Yelena

Sera (057)

Sera glanced up at Camilla to hold up her cherry vape. “I put it away before I went to bed because my uh…stomach hurt.” She sat on the floor with her back against the cot and tilted her head back with her eyes closed as she inhaled. “The hound was one of the reasons I was scared to leave. I can’t change my scent. I can change almost everything else about myself but not that. I was so lucky they didn’t send her after me and they sent… someone else.” She picked at her fingers as she exhaled, not looking at Camilla. “I don’t trust her. I don’t care what Yelena says. She is responsible for the deaths of so many escapees. Not just escapees, girls who simply thought about escaping. Girls who just in an offhand manner mentioned what they might do with a life outside the ICA. I do not want to be anywhere near her. I’ve been… I’ve been betrayed enough.” She took another giant inhale until the vape started blinking before she dropped her hand back to her lap.
“I mean honestly I don’t trust Boone either. Like yeah yeah I stabbed him big whoop he didn’t even need stitches. He’s just dramatic and honestly deserved it. He’s just milking it for attention the pussy. But I don’t see why he needs to torment me every second I’m here. I’m tired and I need a fucking drink. I feel like I’m actually dying.”
She got up to her feet. “I’m going out. If I don’t have a drink I’m going to lose my shit for real next time.”



coded by reveriee.
 
font call font call font call
4Ø4:the//scholar
Camilla Isabella Beltran
Location // Prague
Status // Hungry || Neutral
Last Slept // 28hrs ago
Outfit // Casual
Mentions // Sera ;; Maera ;; Boone
Camilla stood like a silent shadow by the door to hear Sera out while she worked through what was bothering her. The girl's apprehension came as no surprise and it was clear by everyone’s reaction that they shared the same sentiments. The Hound…Maera…was not exactly a welcomed face at the safehouse given the whole point of their mission was to take down the very organization that weaponized her like she was some sort of rebel dowsing rod. Camilla remembered the numerous raids that took place in the Widow’s quarters as Agents were seized from their rooms and taken away– poor girls didn’t stand a chance once they were named problems. Luckily the two of them didn't really cross paths but in her research on the ICA and its many different cells of operatives, the Hound was a notorious project. Camilla didn't personally know any of the girls that were permanently ex-communicated thanks to Maera but the waves of fear that made their rounds whenever she was near was palpable.
“You don’t have to trust her,” The Scholar’s tone was matter-of-fact but held no harsh edge. “You don’t have to be anywhere near her if you don’t want to be. I’ll figure out a way to keep you two separated during ops if I can help it but if it comes down to synergy…” Camilla let the words hang in the air for a moment. “She doesn’t seem fit for missions anytime soon so I wouldn’t worry about it too much. If anything, she’ll probably be here at base with me.”
The likelihood of her assessment being correct didn’t sit quite right with Camilla but there was little point in making a fuss about it. Maera was in a precarious state by many standards and would need some evaluations before being cleared for missions. Of course...there was always the reality of Camilla getting overruled by Yelena and Silas. The thought in itself caused Camilla's jaw to tense.
“I figure if she ratted us out, the ICA would already be up our asses by now. I’m sure they’re going to figure out sooner rather than later that their Hound wasn’t properly terminated but hopefully by that time I’ll be able to pick her brain a bit and gather what intel she has…” Now THAT was something she was looking forward to. Between Camilla’s own intel, whatever the Hound had on her, and Sera’s proficiency with infiltration, their records would be pretty well-rounded.
Pulled from the savory thoughts of another well of intelligence to tap, Camilla glanced up at Sera as she got up and headed for the door. The Scholar shifted to stand in the way while pulling a packet of electrolytes from her pocket. She looked at Sera rather expectantly and glanced between the blonde to the packet and water in her own hands.
“Look– there’s a lot of shit working its way out of your system and I’m sure that’s not helping this whole situation. At least take some of this and see if you still feel like going out? We HAVE alcohol here, you know?” Her head tilted out of curiosity. “Why…Why DID you stab him?”
tag here
tag here
 
Location
The safehouse in Prague

Outfit
Here

Characters
Camilla, Sera, Boone, Kyo, Maera, Yelena

Sera (057)

Sera looked down at Camilla blocking her exit, standing about 4 inches taller than her. “Well to be fair I was drunk, high, and he drugged me to start with. But I was also lured here under the promise of… um… not all this,” she said as she gestured around the safe house. “And so I get here expecting something very different before being basically ambushed by a number of ICA operatives. So naturally in my drunken, high off my ass, realizing I’ve been drugged manner, I decided that stab and dash was the best course of action. Unfortunately or fortunately whatever, I was too intoxicated to even stab correctly. As evidenced by the fact that he’s still alive and I am still in this safe house.”

She then begrudgingly took the electrolytes and dumped them into a water bottle. “I will try this for you, but I can tell you right now without even trying them that they will not work. I will inevitably end up back in the shithole you found me in with more scars and even less of a future.”

She drained roughly half the water bottle in one go. “Now if you would direct me to this source of communal alcohol, I need that and I need to shower and brush my teeth because there’s no way I don’t smell like vomit right now.” She pointed to the wall Kyo passed out against, “and your friend there looks like he may need medical attention.”

Then she proceeded to hog the bathroom for roughly 45 minutes.
coded by reveriee.
 


Conrad Adler






























  • mood


    cautious.














The air was crisp and sharp, the morning sun even sharper as it slowly made the start of its daily ascension above the clouds. Conrad stared up into the sky, somehow a bit absentminded despite every single one of his senses being on high alert. Maybe it was because there was too much to think about, what with Yelena gallivanting off on her own for this mission. And that was ignoring the million other thoughts rolling around inside his skull.

That was the main reason he hadn’t really slept the night before, too much was happening inside his head. As a result he delegated himself to keeping watch of the perimeter through the night while the others got some rest. Best to be efficient about it, after all. Besides, he was used to watching and waiting. It’s what he was good at. What he was trained to do.

He frowned. No matter what he did, his thoughts seemed to inevitably drift back to the ICA. The past was always right there to torment him.

With a sigh, he focused his attention back on the present moment. The morning was cold but the leather jacket hugging his body and the cigarette in his hand staved off the worst of it. He took a drag, ignoring the anxious little pull at his gut. I earned it, he thought. I can feel guilty about it later. Better to feel guilty about killing my own lungs than everything else.

The sniper’s thoughts were interrupted by muffled shouts from inside the building behind him. The loudest he could deduce just by the pitch and cadence–Sera, unsurprisingly. He took a deep breath and let out a tired sigh, running a hand through his thick blond curls. Best to go take a look and try to smooth out any brewing drama before things got out of hand.

He took one last long, heavy drag from his cigarette, savoring the smokey taste for a moment with closed eyes. Conrad was sure this would be the last moment of peace he would have for some time. He then let the remainder drop to the ground, squashing it out with the heel of his boot before reaching for the door handle.

Conrad slipped in through the safe house’s back door, the cold morning air still clinging to him as he quietly shut it behind himself. As soon as he crossed the threshold, his senses immediately tuned into the tension in the air—a familiar tightness, like a live wire about to snap. The shouting had since stopped, replaced by Yelena’s deep, smooth tones, yet it did little to curb the tense energy. Thank God she was back, but clearly all was not completely well. He sighed softly, squaring his shoulders and steeling himself for the inevitable mess he was about to walk into.

The sharpshooter stepped down the hallway, his heavy boots tapping rhythmically against the creaky wooden floor. His tall frame moved with deliberate ease as he made his way into the room, though his gait was a bit stiff; apparently his knee was giving him some trouble today. His face pulled into that familiar mix of easy charm and steady confidence, his relaxed posture more a habit of defusing situations than any actual comfort. As he neared the group, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, adopting his usual laid-back demeanor, though his sharp blue eyes betrayed an underlying worry.

“I heard yelling. Is everything–” Conrad started, reflexively freezing when his gaze landed on Maera. The ICA’s favorite hound began puking only a second later. “Oooooookay.”

He watched with a grimace as she quite literally spilled her guts all over the floor. Great. Just fucking great. He took a deep breath–which he immediately regretted, given the sour stench in the air–and held it for a moment, before slowly exhaling in an attempt to ground himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his eyes, feeling a headache beginning to brew. Today was going to be a damn long day, he could just feel it.

“I’ll go get some paper towels,” the blond announced with a heavy sigh a moment later, damn well knowing no one else was going to step up. Being the ‘responsible one’ was a heavy burden, indeed. He turned to Yelena with a warm, albeit tight smile and gave her a nod. “It’s nice to have you back in one piece, agent.” He expected a little more elaboration from her later on her choice of new recruit.

“Silas. Do me a favor and get our, uh, ‘guest’ some water, yeah?” He said, glancing over to the younger man, fully aware he was probably the best bet to get a little help right now.

With that, Conrad turned on his heel, resigned to carrying out step one of his latest “cleanup” mission. He didn’t say the joke out loud, but it did at least help alleviate some of his own internal tension.


























take me out


franz ferdinand







♡coded by uxie♡
 
#21

I don't know the future. I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it's going to begin​


Axelle had nearly gotten caught outside Nuremberg. The amount of traffic in the city, both foot and vehicle, was far greater than she’d expected. The scholar hadn’t informed her of that and it had to be circumvented by trekking a half mile through undergrowth and something the ICA called ‘urban forest’. Woodland encompassed by the spread of modernity. The brief sojourn through the trees at least brought some peace in the darkness and gave her enough cover to tend to some of her burns.

Speaking of the burns, Axelle leaned forward, bringing her shoulder into the light filtering in from between the slats of the train car. She’d hopped on outside of a town called Cham and rode over the border through Pilsen toward Prague and the coordinates she’d been given.

The light revealed a nasty burn, the skin on her shoulder charred black where the fire ate into her. She’d been trapped in the lavatory temporarily after the crash, only able to kick her way out when the fire ate through the wall enough to break free. By that point it had gotten hot enough to get to her as well. Burns were nothing new at least.

She lifted the charred skin, investigating the pink and red pulsing flesh under the burned dermis. Healing up nicely. A few more days and it was like all the other things that had been done to her body. Good as new. Pain shot through her, coursing through well traveled neural paths before dying on the proverbial vine, only the narrowing of her eyes as she let her skin snap back down into place as the train began to slow, entering an industrial yard outside Prague.

Before coming to a halt, Axelle hopped from the car and hurried into the industrial park surrounding the Depo Zlićin. It too was far more crowded than she’d been led to believe. A bright golden ‘M’ with a line of cars presented the most formidable obstacle she’d encountered since the crash itself. A commercial mall.

Sticking to the edges, it took some time to weave through the parked cars and make it to more residential terrain, gardens and ponds making decent cover as she trekked her way into the city proper.

With only a kilometer left to go, she scaled a garden wall and fell silently into a back yard. The building had no lights on but she realized she chose poorly when a dog rushed out from the bushes. Wordlessly she grabbed it by the throat, clamping a muscular hand around the mutt’s vocal cords to stifle the whimper. Without a sound she broke its neck, twisting and feeling the bones break from their sockets, head only held on by nerves, muscles and skin. She dropped it, leaving it twitching on the ground.

She considered tearing it up, they’d blame it on some native fauna. But she was already behind schedule. It twitched a few more times as she stared into its eyes before breathing ceased and it died. Lights flicked on in the house, hurrying Axelle along as she hopped the opposing wall and hurried herself along, moving along an alley before freezing in place in a doorway.

Based on the surrounding buildings from the notes 404 sent, this was the location she needed to be. But a cloud of smoke and the red of a cigarette flame revealed a man standing watch. He wore a leather jacket and his curls accented a handsome face. A face that showed the exhaustion of a long watch and the chill of the morning air. If he’d seen her, he wasn’t showing any sign of it. Axelle holding position until it seemed he grew concerned about something inside. He tossed his cigarette away and left her sight.

She held a moment longer, ensuring he wasn’t doubling back on his watch before moving. She had been lucky, he didn’t seem to be focused on the area, his eyes looked as if they’d been lost in thought. She’d seen it before.

Crossing quietly, she found the cigarette, ground into the dirt. Plucking it up, she pulled up the face covering she wore, bringing it to her lips. There was no heat left but she could taste him still. He tasted like the ICA, like all the children did. A chemical undertone beneath their humanity. Axelle licked her lips, dropping the cigarette and taking her cover off completely. The scholar said the door would be unlocked and it seemed 404 wasn’t wrong about that.

Stepping inside like she owned the place, her hulking frame blocked the morning light before letting the door shut behind her. At 194 centimeters and built enough to look heavy at that height, she blocked a great deal of the hallway, tilting her head slightly as she came eye to eye in the hall with the blonde man turning on his heel.

Eyes dead and face frozen from decades of expressionless living, Axelle slowly raised her hands, putting them both up, fingers out in an international gesture of ‘keep calm’

noxrequiem noxrequiem Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova snakeg0dd snakeg0dd CHUUYAS_HAT CHUUYAS_HAT calliope-3 calliope-3 Vaalhalla Vaalhalla honeycoves honeycoves
 
mood :

guarded (Silas)
chipper (Yelena)

location :
prague safehouse
outfit :

mentions :
honeycoves honeycoves Fabrikator.Nova Fabrikator.Nova calliope-3 calliope-3 CHUUYAS_HAT CHUUYAS_HAT

interactions :
noxrequiem noxrequiem Teh Frixz Teh Frixz Vaalhalla Vaalhalla
Yelena &
Silas - 033
Yelena watched as the children dispersed, their expressions a mix of displeasure, frustration, and mistrust directed at the new addition to their unconventional family. Although she didn’t feel defeated, the visceral reaction from everyone left her feeling increasingly discouraged. Silas had tried to convince the group that giving Maera a fair chance was possible, but it was evident that the collective sentiment was clear: Maera would not be accepted among them. Yelena knew Silas shared this unspoken belief; he was merely hiding it beneath a veneer of concern.

As both Silas and Yelena observed, Sera stormed out of the combined kitchen and living area, undoubtedly retreating to the bedrooms. Camilla followed closely behind, excusing herself with a flick of her finger as she left, though not before grabbing a bottle of water to take with her. Kyo, too, seemed to shrink into himself, pulling his hoodie tighter as he distanced himself from the unfolding chaos.

Maera was clearly in no condition to be moved or subjected to any additional stress. Her wounds had reopened, and it was evident she needed medical attention as soon as possible. Just then, Conrad rounded the corner, the heavy thud of his boots announcing his entrance. He had likely abandoned his post as lookout in response to the commotion that had erupted moments earlier. The scene escalated further when Maera began to heave, expelling the contents of her stomach onto the old wooden floor. It was a certain grim indicator of her current state.

Silas flicked an eyebrow at the sight, feeling a mix of sympathy and frustration. Yelena quickly stepped in, wrapping an arm around Maera in an attempt to offer soothing words. She glanced between Conrad and Silas, aware that Boone would probably excuse himself from the events unfolding, just as Kyo had already departed. Conrad’s expression was one of visible distress as he took a deep breath in and pinched his nose in an effort to maintain composure. Thankfully, he took it upon himself to start cleaning up Maera’s mess and welcomed Yelena back.

Yelena found it refreshing that at least one other person was willing to be somewhat welcoming in this tense atmosphere. After all, Conrad’s charming smile was indeed infectious. She smiled back at him and mouthed a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Silas. Do me a favor and get our, uh, ‘guest’ some water, yeah?” Conrad asked, his voice steady despite the chaos.

Silas wasn’t particularly keen on taking orders from anyone other than Yelena, but he recognized that making things easier for her and the situation itself would be beneficial. He kept silent but shifted into motion, heading toward the cupboard that housed the glasses and plates. He aimlessly took the closest glass and filled it with tap water, pouring it about three-quarters full. While the water might not have been the best quality, at least it was double filtered.

His focus returned to Maera as he maneuvered around Conrad, who was busy searching for cleaning supplies. Along the way, Silas picked up a chair from the table and placed it next to the Hound. He crouched down to her level, trying to convey warmth and compassion, and extended the glass of water to her.

“No doubt you’re feeling shaken and untrusting right now,” he said gently. “But if you want, you can sit here for a moment," He tapped on the chair so that she didn't feel inclined to stay on the floor, "I can also help you to the bedrooms if that would make you more comfortable. Where do you think you’d feel best?”

As Silas took on the role of caretaker for Maera, Yelena slipped away to the bookshelf in the living room. Among the dust-covered volumes and aging science journals, she found a thick, hollowed-out book that concealed medical supplies and pain suppressants. Aware that some of the others might misuse the drugs for recreational purposes, Yelena had long ago decided to hide them for safekeeping, knowing the time would come when they would be needed—and that time was undeniably now.

Returning to the central hub of the apartment, Yelena glanced at Conrad as he diligently worked to clean up the mess on the floor. “Conrad, when you’re done, do you think you could help me?” she asked, shaking the hollow book to catch his attention. As she opened it to reveal its concealed contents, a sense of hope filled her; she knew Conrad had always demonstrated a commendable understanding of first aid, and given that he had already offered his assistance, she felt confident he would be willing to help in this crucial moment.

Just then, the door behind them creaked open, the sound both familiar and impossible to ignore. Yelena peered around Conrad, who stood between her and the hallway, curiosity sparking in her eyes. At the end of the corridor loomed a hulking figure—one that could only be Axelle.

“Axelle!” Yelena exclaimed, her voice warm with relief and charm, grateful it wasn’t someone else. “Please, come in! We’re in the middle of a clean-up, but don’t be shy.”

It was Camilla who had discovered Axelle and orchestrated her escape from the grasp of the Widow academy. The many briefing sessions led by the insomnia-ridden genius had fostered a sense of camaraderie and purpose among them, and Yelena couldn’t have been more thankful for Camilla’s ingenuity and resourcefulness.

Hearing Axelle’s name drew Silas’s gaze. He looked up to see none other than his old training partner stepping into the space. During their time in simulated missions and intense training sessions in the Dark Room at the Sparrow and Widow academies, he had been encouraged to unleash his full potential on Axelle, knowing she could recover from nearly any injury he inflicted. A smile broke across his face as he waved to her, finding comfort in the presence of a familiar face, especially now that he knew they both had escaped the clutches of the ICA.

Yet, as his attention shifted back to Maera, he knew she would soon have to make a choice about where to go next, and he hoped it would be a decision that offered her some semblance of safety and belonging. Even if she wanted to be carried, he would oblige. His mission, now, was to make Maera feel welcome. For Yelena.
coded by reveriee.
 
font call font call font call
4Ø4:the//scholar
Camilla Isabella Beltran
Location // Prague
Status // Hungry || Focused
Last Slept // 29hrs ago
Outfit // Casual
Mentions // Sera ;; Kyo ;; Conrad ;; Maera ;; Silas ;; Axelle
Camilla closed her eyes with an imperceptible sigh as she stepped aside for Sera to head off to shower up. She was thankful that the other Agent heeded her words to some degree even if the Chameleon didn’t fully believe in the efficacy herself– there was at least some attempt at meeting halfway. Sera had pointed out an incapacitated Kyo sitting in the hallway which was next on her endlessly long list of items to tackle all while her stomach started to grow that incessant gnaw that irritated her to no end. She turned to the door and quietly thumped her forehead against it as a brief means of stress relief before turning on her heels to address the next situation: Kyo.
The Scholar caught sight of the familiar ghostly image of Dr. Otto-Schmidt in the dirty window and rolled her eyes dramatically. He was a frequent passenger in all that she did with his grating voice echoing in her ear to undermine and discredit all of her work. It was strange in a way– how comfortable she felt with seeing him haunting her everywhere her own reflection was captured as one of the minds that had influenced her the most. There was nothing redeeming about the nefarious doctor and yet she couldn’t help but turn to the spectre that haunted her whenever there was a problem that needed solving and she needed someone to discuss solutions with.
‘Everything is already falling apart, 404. You’re losing your grip and the team will suffer for it though I must say that I am eager to see you all back where you belong. Tell me, how is your condi–’
At that moment, a familiar voice rumbled like summer thunder from behind and Camilla looked up to see Conrad had come down from his perch. She bid him a brief nod, thankful to see he’d come in to help. Her shoulders relaxed, tension easing from her frame upon his arrival.
“If she’d prefer, you can take her into my office,” Camilla’s eyes flickered over to Maera who was being directed to sit down in a chair by Silas. “There’s privacy in there at least and the couch is made up already. I’ll be in to help in a moment if you need me– just gotta wake up Kyo here.”
Her attention turned back to the incapacitated man with his lolled head against the wall. Her own tilted curiously as she wasn’t quite sure what it was that triggered him to pass out like this. Nonetheless, Camilla reached out and waved her hand in front of his face and snapped a couple times to see if appealing to proximity stimulus or sound would rouse him from his unconscious stupor. She was about to reach out and provide physical stimulus by shaking him when a droplet of bright crimson on the back of her hand caused her to scowl– of course. The Agent swiped at her nose with the heel of her palm and with the other, gripped Kyo’s collar and gave him a shake.
“Rise and shine, buddy. You sure picked a good time to go out on us but I’m gonna need you to wake up before I get the–” The threat died on her lips as she quickly got up and acted upon it instead.
Ignoring the taunting image of Dr. Otto-Schmidt in the window, Camilla hurried over to the kitchen and washed her hands at the sink quickly before yanking open one of the cupboards to pull out a small vial of smelling salts. SOMEONE thought it was funny to put it with all the other spices given the nomenclature and she never had the patience to put it back with the other medical supplies because even she found it a little funny even if she wouldn’t admit it. In the neighboring cupboard, Camilla flipped open the sealed top on a jar of individually wrapped candies and pulled out a fun sized— Camilla-sized as another unfortunate joke, Snickers. Before 404 could return to Kyo however, the front door opened again and a large figure came walking in with a looming presence in the hallway. Axelle.
“Right on time– glad you made it okay. I’m sorry I couldn’t have provided more instruction as the morning…got away from me a bit,” The Scholar offered the new arrival with a courteous nod and glanced back up to the top of the refrigerator. “There’s a spare set of clothes for you and some basics like a towel and toothbrush. We’ll get you some more clothes when everything is stabilized but thank you for coming.” A small twitch at the corner of her lips tugged it upward briefly: a smile. “And sorry about the rough landing.”
With a nod to excuse herself, Camilla quickly returned to the slumped Kyo but not before placing a hand on Silas' shoulder to try and ease the tension she could sense from him. They'd known each other for awhile and embarked on this mission together when it was just the three of them: herself, Silas, and Yelena. It was her silent way of reminding him that she was there and had his back. With that, she huried back over to the incapacitated Kyo and set down the vial beside her carefully to unwrap the Snickers. She then grabbed the vial and uncorked it with her teeth– her next motions happened in quick succession. Camilla held the vial beneath Kyo’s nose while holding her breath so that the violent punch of burning smells wouldn’t invade her senses as well. Returning the cork to the vial and ensuring that the seal was tightly tamped down, 404 then brought the unwrapped chocolate beneath Kyo’s nose instead and hoped it would serve as a sort of consolation for being rudely awakened.
‘There are currently three medical emergencies that need tending to: Kyo, Axelle, and Maera. This is going to be…a very long morning.’ A headache was starting to form behind her eyes as she processed everything that needed addressing. The main concern was Maera given her current state but Axelle had sustained injuries as well and Camilla wasn’t about to neglect her either. Tilting her head to both sides, delicate cracking sounds were followed by a sigh of relief.
Chaos had descended upon the safehouse but that was where Camilla thrived best. It was time to get back to work.
tag here
tag here
 
Last edited:


Conrad Adler






























  • mood


    cautious.














Conrad moved in silence, his expression a carefully composed mask of neutrality as he set off to find paper towels and whatever cleaning supplies he could scrounge up. Though he wasn’t exactly thrilled by the situation, his emotions remained tightly controlled. He trusted Yelena—or at least, as much as he trusted anyone. She was their leader, and so far, she hadn’t steered them wrong. He could swallow his doubts for now and hear her out on this whole Hound situation. If things went south, the trigger could always be pulled later.

He crossed paths with Camilla in the hallway, the two exchanging a quick glance and a nod, but neither had time for more. Reaching the small kitchen, Conrad rummaged through the cupboards until he found what he was looking for. His relief was palpable when he grabbed a bottle of disinfectant spray—something that would not only clear up the mess but also take care of the lingering stench.

Suppressing a sigh, Conrad returned to the living room with the supplies in hand, his reluctance replaced by grim resolve. Kneeling down by the mess, he forced himself to breathe shallowly, doing his best to avoid the pungent odor as he started cleaning. It wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined spending his day, but here he was, making the best of it.

As he was wiping up the last bit of excess disinfectant from off the freshly-cleaned wooden floor, Yelena stepped into view, a large book in hand held out to him. “Conrad, when you’re done, do you think you could help me?”

She opened the front cover, revealing a hollowed out compartment filled with a secret stash of medical supplies. His sharp blue eyes quietly scanned over the inside of the book before flicking back up to Yelena’s face. He got to his feet and wiped his hands on a fresh sheet of paper towel, tossing it into a plastic bag with the rest of the vomit-stained rags.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied in a pleasant tone, a thin, placid smile on his face. His voice was low but calm, carrying the same steady reliability that had been ingrained in him through years of discipline. “Let me just go wash my hands first.”

As he turned on his heel, the back door opened and he was faced with the hulking frame of a very large woman–she was taller than even he was. On instinct his hands immediately reached for the holsters hidden under the leather folds of his jacket, but he froze the moment he heard Yelena behind him, voice filled with warmth. “Axelle! Please, come in! We’re in the middle of a clean-up, but don’t be shy.”

Conrad dropped his hands to his sides, breathing a sigh of relief. So she was an expected guest; he wished that they’d at least keep him informed on this kind of shit. He stepped out of the way, allowing Yelena to pass to properly greet the newcomer while he ducked back into the kitchen, giving his hands a thorough scrubbing with plenty of anti-bacterial soap in the sink. At least the stench of vomit was finally beginning to dissipate. After drying off his hands on a towel, he walked back out into the living room, opening up the hollowed-out book and searching through its contents while Yelena was preoccupied with Axelle.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Conrad muttered to himself, his focus sharpening. Bandages, antiseptics, pain suppressants—it wasn’t a full medical kit, but it would do in a pinch. His fingers moved over the supplies, pulling out what he needed, his movements calm and methodical. Years of training, both in the Academy and the field, had made sure of that. The sight of the concealed medical supplies brought back memories of countless missions—patching up bullet wounds in dark alleyways, applying pressure to shrapnel injuries in makeshift shelters, always forced to act quickly, efficiently. It was muscle memory by now.

























take me out


franz ferdinand







♡coded by uxie♡
 
#21
I knew a man who once said, Death smiles at us all. All a man can do is smile back.

Pleasant greetings, friendly smiles, apologies and offers of care. Axelle stood still, watching the buzz of activity without expression on her face. Just flitting eyes, following and cataloging everyone there. It was programmed predatory instinct at this point, having a plan to kill everyone inside if she had to. In a systematic, brutal order.

Silas, old partner for many simulated missions. The Soldier. High priority, either primary or secondary threat. Her eyes consider the kitchen, envisioning the damage that could be done with the glass against the flesh of the throat. Axelle downgraded him, realigning the primary target to Yalena. The cramped quarters her undoing, brute force applied with the bookshelf, Silas reacting with exploitable anger.

Then the blonde, he had a gun on him. Concealed, probably nine millimeter. She could take most of the magazine provided they weren’t hollow points. Third target, using the hallway and rooms to break visual contact. There was another man around. Unknown, forth reactive threat. Two wounded. One of which she knew, a Hound. Injured, snap neck. Same for the incapacitated one. Then Camilla…she wasn’t a threat. Target of protection, Axelle maneuvering in her head to place herself between the scholar and any errant shots.

The last one, in the bathroom. Female but unknown. Enter room, suffocate with shower curtain.

Axelle blinked, back in the hallway. Vaguely aware of how long she’d been standing silently. Camilla had offered clothes, Axelle looking at her own burnt and torn gear. She sniffed herself, frowning before signing to the Scholar.

‘No Read Czech. Bad Trip. Safe Now. Thank You Friend. Who Bathroom Who Blonde?’

She emphasized friend for Camilla, before giving Silas a knowing nod, thankful to have someone that she knew the potential of, who shared her experiences, Axelle took the set of clothes off the fridge and moved to the sink, stripping off her top down to skin and drinking from the tap before washing her hands and face. A dried menagerie of blood types was soon sucked down the drain, Axelle catching Yalena tending to the Hound with Silas and the blonde man with the gun. Axelle pointed to Maera, sitting up while water ran through her hair and over her shoulders, leaving streaks of black where the ash washed out.

‘Prisoner? Waste Medical. Axelle Kill Quick If Afraid’

Axelle emphasized the knife gesture in kill. Making sure the point was clearly made. They probably had the hound as a hostage, torturing info out of her. Explained the smell of bile, people vomited a lot during torture by Silas. It was a waste, she’d killed one dog already. A second wouldn’t worry her.
 


















good morning...





"I weep for god who had to decide whether you should be born or not."


All went black...

He jolted awake, bright lights meeting his eyes which made him close them immediately. He wasn't back at their so-called safe place, no, he was in a place far too familiar. Kyomu paused, the laboratory becoming all too really. Sometimes he wondered he inflicted nightmares on himself too, because having dreams like these would be considered a normal. Kyo had been having these even when he was stuck in the ICA- possibly retrieved from some trauma.

He knew the routine- he just had to face other people's fears he'd used against them. By now, he probably run by almost half, and that was a lot if he had to count. Maybe this was a reason why he could endure most pains/fears, be brave enough to withstand them.

As soon as he settled into the new atmosphere, his eyes got blurry from probably tears and he made a move to wipe them. As soon as his vision he took a step back in surprise only to fall backward due to stepping on something. His hands were soaked in something he couldn't determine, and Kyomu was sure he didn't want to know what he was sitting on. Because the only things splayed on the floor were dead bodies, all limp and eyes opened. Necrophobia. And of all things, he was touching one.

Kyo instantly yelped and stood up, trembling in the knees as he stared, stricken, at the thing he was previously sitting on. His hands were painted a velvet-scarlet, and he felt himself fall back to the bloody floor. He felt his eyes get wet again, and he brought his knees to his chest. Hopefully this would end. And it did just that.

--

Kyomu let out a gasp, eyes flying open and hitting the back of his head on the wall as something vile smelling was brought to his nose, replaced by a sweet scent. Camilla was kneeling besides him, and he was close to smacking her hand away. Close to touching her. No, wait, she was close to touching him.

Kyo stared wide eyed at the girl, locking eyes with a possible lip quivering of his. He bit it, finally speaking up.

"I passed out, didn't I..."

He glanced nervously at their little empty space, choking out a;

"If you could, move yourself...and I hope you didn't touch me..."































"Fuck You!"












♡coded by uxie♡

 
Location
The safehouse in Prague

Outfit
Here

Characters
Yelena, Silas, Camilla, Conrad, Kyo, Boone, Maera, Axelle

Sera (057)

Sera came out of the bathroom full nude with a towel wrapped around her hair. Except she had smoothed out all her genitals so she looked like a human Barbie doll with nothing exposed. Her skin looked flawless not a single blemish, scratch, bruise, or scar marred the surface. After putting on some clothes she emerged back out into the main room to grab more food and see what kind of alcohol the house was stocked with. Before freezing in the doorway.

“Who the fuck is that?” She asked pointing at Axelle. “Actually hang on let me rephrase I know who that is, why is she here??”

She skirted around Camilla and Axelle, trying to give them a wide berth on her way to the kitchen. “It’s becoming a circus in here, when are we finding a new safe house?” She asked to no one in particular but vaguely directed at Silas, Yelena, or Camilla, since the three of them seemed to call the shots. She let cherry scented smoke curl lazily out of her nostrils as she put together a sandwich and poured a healthy amount of liquor into a lidded glass.

“I could get us something really nice. Something so big we’d never run into each other unless we were trying. I might even have someplace like that stashed away already.” She took a large swallow from her glass and then an equally giant bite of sandwich.

coded by reveriee.
 







It's no big surprise you turned out this way

"We can all try to keep an open mind and be more receptive."

Boone reeled at Silas's very pointed gaze. "Woah," He held his hands up defensively. "Who said I wasn't keeping an open mind?" He asked, returning the accusatory stare to Silas. Spoiler alert: he wasn't keeping an open mind. He never did. But he really didn't appreciate the sass. Silas, while Boone did have a teaspoon of respect for him, had this nasty habit of playing leader and pissing him off. It wasn't anything new, he was very familiar with it at the academy. And, as pissy as Boone could be, in this instance he couldn't really be mad at Silas. The guy was just trying to make things easier on everyone else. It was sort of his job. It was just unfortunate that it was also sort of Boone's job to make things harder on everyone else.

He glared at Sera as she passed, fleeing to the safety of Mills's tech room, hissing like a cat. He raised the pillow, threatening her with another pelt to the face, but lowered it instead. "Fucking weirdo," He muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear but soft enough to feign innocence. He stuffed the pillow under his arm, rolling onto his side to get a better look at those still gathered in the common area. Mills dropped her hoodie on his chest and stalked away, reminding him of the cool temperature of the safehouse markedly. She had a way of not necessarily bossing him around, but using very factual remarks to appeal to the logic he often did not have. It was cold. He was hardly wearing clothes. He should put the hoodie on.

He began unballing the jacket, raising his eyes just in time to catch Conrad coming in from outside and then Maera promptly expelling her breakfast. He wrinkled his nose, letting out a soft eugh. To be fair to Maera, and everyone else, she certainly was not the first agent to do that on this floor. He was. Didn't make it any less disgusting though.

As if mechanical, Conrad—another often self-appointed leader, gag— sprang into action, getting ready to clean up the puke and putting Silas to work to help. Silas had began coaxing Maera into sitting and drinking when it was announced that Kyo had passed out, and Axelle waltzed into the safehouse, clearly looking like shit. This was quickly devolving into disaster Boone did not wish to be involved in. But, by the looks of it, neither did Maera. He heaved a sigh, taking time to put Millie's hoodie on.

This safehouse was devolving into a zoo. People crowded around each other, "taking care of" each other, speaking over each other. His dark eyes scanned the room, or what he could see of it in his half-propped position on the couch(he should probably make room, so more people could sit, but he was not going to do that). Maera trembled with illness, Sera re-emerged from the bathroom looking like an airbrushed freak, Axelle stripped in the kitchen.

The Hound certainly didn't need more suggestions from anyone, since everyone but himself, Sera, and Kyo seemed intent on overwhelming her with sudden movements, arrivals, and lots of needless yammering. A personal expert on puking, he opened his mouth to suggest they take her outside, give her some air. Going outside when he was hammered, high off his ass, and hating himself usually helped a little. And a cigarette sounded delicious right now. He shut it when Sera came back into the kitchen.

Boone rolled his eyes, dramatically sitting up like an undead creature rising from the grave. "Probably around the same time you shut the fuck up," He scowled, barely concealing his contempt for the blonde. "Which, at this rate, looks like that'll be sometime around the turn of the century." He let his bare feet return to the floor, rising to join Sera by the fridge. He theatrically ripped the fridge's door open, reaching in to grab a beer, and allowing the door to fall shut. He used his hand and the counter top to unceremoniously open it with a slam. He threw his head back, taking a long sip, allowing his eyes and mind to wander. At this rate, with all this noise, he was surprised no nosy neighbors were complaining, or reporting them to the local authorities.

He raised his brows and quickly cocked his head to the side when he came up for air. "Breakfast of champions." He teetered closer to Sera, leaning slightly over her shoulder and looking down into her cup. Now, if he could just spit in it... There was plenty of antidote in the safehouse. Just a little bit could be enough to incapacitate her and relieve everyone's ears for a few hours. A string of spit began to fall from his lips, slowly lowering towards her glass.







search









boone hadley.


Tell me, where did you sleep last night?
In the pines, in the pines
Where the sun don't ever shine
I would shiver the whole night through








mood.
Pissed, overwhelmed, bored.

location.
Safehouse

mention.
Silas, Sera, crew.








killing in the name by rage against the machine





© weldherwings.
 
Interactions
honeycoves honeycoves

Outfit
Here

Characters
Yelena, Silas, Camilla, Conrad, Kyo, Boone, Maera, Axelle

Sera (057)

Sera ducked out from where Boone was leaning over her and spun around behind his back, trying to drop a tiny, tasteless little pill in his open beer bottle as she did. Coming to a stop on his other side she stuck a hand on her hip and fake pouted. “Next time you want to try and poison me be more creative about it sweetheart. Your work as of today is… uninspired.” She set the glass down on the counter and got the bottle back out, choosing instead to pull straight from it, just in case he had already poisoned the glass “God what I would do for a bump right now,” she groaned as she took a hit from the ever present vape.

“Wait why am I even talking to you, we’re not friends.” She changed the cadence and sound of her voice to match Boone’s perfectly for her next phrase, “Plus you supposedly just hate the sound of my voice. Maybe I’ll adopt yours for a bit since you love yourself so much.” She blew a cloud directly at his face and then pulled another swig from the bottle.
coded by reveriee.
 
M
aera was hardly present at this point. The ringing in her ears was deafening, and the only thing she could truly hear at this moment was her own heart beat and breathing. Even as Yelena hugged at her shoulders Maera didn't react as she was currently fighting the urge to close her eyes and let the fever take her, vision blurring further and further with every blink.

In the eyes of those that despised or were suspicious of her, the Hounds current display was shameful and a complete deviation to how she was once seen or known among the ICA. Perhaps this was karmic display at work, or maybe it was simply time that all of her misdeeds and actions finally caught up with her. Either way, Maera knew that it was still deserved. She didn't belong here or the ICA, and any form of compassion that was being thrown at her was being met confusion and guilt.

033, 009. Their faces were blending together, but the closer they drew Maera could begin to tell them apart. “No dou ... eling shaken and untr .. f you want, you can sit here for a mo--." Eye brows knitting together in confusion and frustration, she struggled to discern his words over the ringing in her ears and all of the talking eched about in the safe room. "I can al ... drooms if that would make you m ... nk you’d feel best?” Feel? She didn't want that anymore, in fact that was the whole reason she was like this. Had she just followed orders and listened to her Handler none of this would have happened.

As her eyes blinked slowly, she could see the Doctors face in front of her, a proud smile on stretching eerily cheek to cheek as he beamed down at her.

"Á̷͙̫́͋ ̷̘̰̓͆g̸̖̜͘ͅo̸͝ͅö̷̘̠̫́d̵̙́ ̶̛̟̬̤̄d̴̟̿̓͘o̷̧̤̊g̶̳̲͑̽̄ ̸͓̮̰̂d̷͇̹́̕͝e̵̜͉͝s̴͎͖̜̏̀e̵̠̞̰͝r̴̨͇̔ṿ̷̟͐̾͑ē̴̙͍͔͒̾s̶̼̒̄ ̴̡̛̞̮̒̿ă̶̰͗̍ ̷̔̄͜ͅn̵͈̑̈a̸͚͚̔̒m̷͍͈̿̓͘é̶̫̦̬̓.̷̨͙͐" The vision leaving her sight once her eyes opened again.

Visibly shaking now, her breathing began to grow more rapid as a knot formed in her throat. Why did things have to be like this, why did she have to be like this? Tears began to stream down her face, nose curling in personal disgust as she leaned against the chair for support now, struggling to keep herself up now. She had been such a good dog before, so why did she betray her Handler, why did she go against orders? These thoughts roared at her, drowning out everything else around her now, and as she blinked slowly again another face appeared before her. Her Handler.

She was so disappointed, so angry.

"Ẅ̵̧̫͕̮́̑̀̾ǫ̸͖̻̭͚͊̊͠r̶̼͕̆͘t̵̪̙͕̒̑͐́͜h̷̤̮̦̳̲̄̿̑̿̕l̷̡̛̙͓͈̑͛͘̕ë̶̼͚́̍ͅs̴͚̲̖̯͋͂́̍̚s̶̪̩̗͔̮̎͗͛͘ ̷̨̟̗̓͜d̶̜̆́͗̚ͅṏ̸͍̱̼̠́̄̍̍g̴̨̼̏͆.̶͔̬͛̾"

Like before it cut at her, Maera reflexively flinching as she attempted to look away. The bullet wound on her lower torso opening with her abrupt movement, a red stain beginning to bleed through heavily on the front of her shirt now. "Please," Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper as she finally spoke, "Terminate me."

Some might have taken this plea as her trying to take the easy way out, a way to avoid whatever karma had in store for her. However, with the last of her strength she could muster, the Hound finally broke her gaze from the ground and stared up at the figure closest to her. Vision clearing but fever warping her reality, her eyes locked with Silas' but who stared back at her was none other than her Handler. Terror, and panic took over, and in reaction her hand shot out and wrapped around the Soldier's wrist with an alarming grip. Sharp nails digging into his skin, grip tightening as her breaths turned into sobbing heaves as she began to hyperventilate.

"Please--I'm sorry!" She stared at Silas with great remorse, the look in her eyes pitiful, and helpless. "I'll be good, I-I won't run! Please!" She shouted now, voice breaking. Her head leaned down slowly, almost as if in a trance now as her grip became vice like until her forehead was finally level with hand.

She could see it all now, her deserved punishment. Believing herself to have a gun to her head again her whaled eyed gaze looked back up at Silas and all that she could see was her Handler. "Kill me--kill me--kill me--!"
"You should have just left me there..."
Maera - The Hound
location:
Prague; The Safehouse - Living Room
outfit:
interactions:
Silas, Conrad, Boone, Sera, Axelle, Camilla, Kyo, Yelena
 
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