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Concept: just like Hueco Mundo had a Ruler with Espada beneath them long before Aizen came into the picture, there too, was the Exequias, who were also subordinate to Hueco Mundo’s ruler, and who's duties were mostly the same as they were under Aizen. The Exequias were simply, like the Espada and many other aspects of Hueco Mundo's hierarchical structure, one of the many things Aizen sort of co-opted when they took over.

This does also mean that there was an Exequias Captain before Rudbornn who likely served under Barragan. There may have even been a number of actual individuals (Lieutenants) who comprised the Exequias, too-- this is actually a reality Rudbornn tries to bring back post TYBW, too, with him recruiting the likes of Menoly and Loly into the Exequias during CFYOW (I also like to headcanon that he draws Gantenbainne in, too, and the arrancar-ized Runuganga + Battikaroa).

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The world changes, we do not, therein lies the irony that kills us

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MUSE TRACKS !

post   3 — 5     songs   that   remind   you   of   your   muse.

cleopatrick - bad guy: "please don't make me be the bad guy again, not him. take it back, don't want it anymore, this judas cup i don't fill.

camping in alaska - woodgrain: "shocking sulking bloody spit, a plastic rose a busted lip. never take my own advice, not a good idea in sight. broke my legs under thе weight, of this suffocating fate. in the blacknеss of my days, in the darkness of my nights."

cleopatrick - peppers ghost: "i thought i could verify who was on my side, man. i swore i'd seen it with my own two eyes, man. i guess i'm a fool for fucking fallacy. when pepper's ghost gets smoking mirrors in my vicinity, yeah, yeah they look fucking real to me."

jawbreaker - accident prone: "a near miss or a close call? i keep a room at the hospital, i scratch my accidents into the wall. i couldn't wait to breathe your breath. i cut in line, i bled to death. i got to you, there was nothing left."

foo fighters - the pretender: "keep you in the dark, you know they all pretend. keep you in the dark, and so it all began. send in your skeletons, sing as their bones go marching in again."

🌟[bonus]🌟 brand new - at the bottom: "i'm alone now in my bed. and there's a lake, and at the bottom you'll find all my friends. they don't swim 'cause they're all dead. we never are what we intend or invent."

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https://pin.it/5NVq50Qvu

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//want a tree in your inbox? yes? give this a like

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— And in your darkest hour, I hold secret's flame.

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No gods No judges

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concept: bount never had a true homeland and were never united as a whole but there was a time in the distant past where there was a loosely acknowledged society and hierarchy among them. a lot of bount in the past lived solitary lives or in very small family-like/communal units, but there were times where great numbers of them would gather together into a large group known as a heerschar (host), and these heerscharen (hosts) would have hegemony over bount in the areas they existed.

— just as bount often operated in secrecy and in the shadows, so too did a heerschar, only on a larger scale, acting like a shadowy court with a souverän (sovereign) at its head, their chosen gräfen/gräfinnen (counts/countesses) at their side, and a multitude of freiherren/freifrauen (barons/baronesses) beneath them. most heerscharen only ever held sway over bount across cities or provinces, but the largest and most organized of them could influence the lives of bount across entire swaths of the planet (with the heads of said heerscharen sometimes taking the title herzog, or duke). bount who were not part of a heerschar, even those that led the most secretive, reclusive lives, often minded their organized brethren and respected the 'laws' they laid down (as drawing their ire usually meant a fight they could not win).

— it was not uncommon for a given heerschar to become the target of pre-lichtreich quincy domains/groups and those of humans when they were discovered (since individual bount were seen as enough of a menace, let alone entire groups of them), but they were just as likely to become targets of other heerscharen, sometimes for the sake of domination and power but sometimes over the enforcing of punishments for perceived taboos, too.

— when the soul society finally decided that bount were a problem to be eradicated (across the world and not only in the east), it was the many heerscharen that were targeted first. in the face of the shinigami's assaults, most heerscharen banded together into a confederation under an erzherzog (archduke), perhaps being the closest there ever was to true unity among bount. this confederation, and their erzherzog was inevitably defeated, and only a few heerscharen avoided total destruction.

— life for bount across the world was never the same after the confederation's fall. the surviving heerscharen became increasingly withdrawn from the rest of their brethren and eventually closed themselves off entirely, seeking their own survival over anything else. the stability and societal structure (loose as it was) provided for bount by the existence of heerscharen in turn vanished the world over.

— hunted by shinigami, on top of the usual threats they faced, many bount-- especially those who still lived on their own, who now had no figureheads in which to turn to-- began tragically treading paths that turned them into the monsters they were always thought to be, a reality that only intensified their ill fortunes.

— as time marched on, many of the last surviving heerscharen (who by this point were shadows of what they once were) inevitably fell apart, either through internal strife or from the pressure of outside forces (usually the shinigami).

— the very last heerschar, if it could be called that, was the very group which jin had traveled among in the first half of his long life. this heerschar had survived the initial war and subsequent extermination campaign waged by the shinigami against bount, but they too were slowly falling apart as the years dragged along. this heerschar would wind up attempting to assist the newly formed lichtreich in their own war against the shinigami, but it was in this conflict where this last relic of ancient bount society finally crumbled.

— the collective of bount that jin currently resides with in the present day could fit the definition of a heerschar, but neither jin or those under him bother with the idea for a number of reasons (chiefly the facts that they find the notion pompous and the population of bount the world over is incredibly small in the present day).

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— WHISPER OF THE APOCALYPSE (by Marcelkim)

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What emotion are you?

Anger.

You are a pot of boiling water, your anger a bubbling liquid that froths and spits, threatening to overflow and destroy everything in its path. It is a consuming fire, an unstoppable force that burns everything in its path, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. Please, do not blame me- I was trying to protect you. Every bruise you inflict- trying to return your pain- strays you farther from humanity. When you enter purgatory, you will see the Devil’s face and think of yourself, for your rage turned you into a monster.

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The moment Celeste refuses Jin's admittance into her home, it begins to shake slightly, being rattled by winds outside, winds that circled the home's boundary with great fury, winds that howled like a chorus of ghastly beasts denied their prey. 

The wind continued this furious display for a few more moments, but it suddenly comes to an end when Jin looks upward, chuckles, and raises a hand, saying aloud to the unseen force that was more than just the wind-- his familiar, his Doll-- "calm yourself, Sturmklinge, she's already a frightened thing, let's not make it worse if we don't have to."

If they didn't have to. It was an option still left on the table, casually so, a fact that might have purposefully been left plain for Celeste to see, to fathom-- though it was not a threat necessarily, at worst, it was the whisper of one.

Without delay, Jin then looks back to Celeste, his calm unflinching, his smile now more of a smirk (though not at all without its charm) when he says, "our talk would be better served inside, but I can't fault your caution, especially given the behavior of my partner; I hope they haven't left you shaken, they are perhaps a little too intrigued by you." 

Jin then gestures at himself, "this 'something', however," so she did recognize him as inhuman right off the bat, go figure for a purported Oracle, Jin thought, "means you no harm, and would discuss far more than a single question, but if we must start with just one..."

Jin reaches into his coat, pulling out a small pouch that, seconds later, somehow appears next to Celeste, it's binding undone, revealing within a plethora of gold coins.

"When my journey is finally done," Jin's gaze burned with an unnatural crimson glow, keeping eye contact with Celeste even from so many feet away, eager to see how her plying of prophecy, future, or truth would be presented, and along with his own voice, there's, for a moment, another, faint, disembodied, echoing his words, "will I still draw breath?"

ZEPHYR, the great Western wind, seemed to be ... impatient. WANTING. Of what, she could not discern ; not at first. Breeze that passed through the hollow of her tree, into her nest, was not so WELCOMING, no. It was bitter. Biting. Cruel.

She did her best, to warm herself, inward and out. It would not be, the first time, the Gods had forsaken her. Wrists, still healing and sore, from the shackles that held her down once, were tucked in a way where gnashing winds would not sore wounds further.

Nyx's night, had at last fallen, as Helios bid his goodbyes for the day. And though, eyelids were heavy, weary, she could not SHAKE, the predatory watch of something in the canopy, with her. Voice sounds, and she can only set her jaw, bite upon her tongue. Lanius, would not send a human. And who he WOULD send, would waste no time with words.

She continues with her task, soaking bandages and wrapping chafed, reddened skin, her brow creasing. Too many words danced at the back of her throat, all fraught with FEAR. Feathers of her pelt raise, as if to make such a small thing BIGGER than she was.

❝ The Gods, and Fates, have blessed me true, ❞ she replies, tone - though curt - softened. ❝ But I'd fancy myself more than some FORTUNE TELLER, in the cities of men. ❞

Beaten eyes lift, and there's something of a visible flinch, in her posture, claw slipping against a scale, so luckily, avoiding near another injury. No ; that was no man. Manners presented were a fallacy, a ... a rather insulting display. But she thinks, though frightened haze ; was the request merely that ? Or did it insinuate something more ? With a hushed sigh, she does rise, moving close to the entrance of her home.

❝ The hour is late, isn't it .. ? Surely the greed for knowledge can starve another night. And surely, you'd imagine the hesitation I have, for allowing something, I know so little of, in the only place I've left. ❞

NOT A LIE, but not the entire truth. She could, indeed, return to the Hens, to Helena and Troy, and the many others that comprised his family ; but Helena was growing no younger, and Celeste, herself, the same. She could not protect, that little star-harpy, forever. Digits rub, absently at bandages, slicked already with dark blood.

❝ Ask your question there, question, ser. No more than one. I find myself ... a bit more tired, than I'd prefer to admit. ❞

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"A tree that cannot bend will crack in the wind," Jin replies, calm, smooth, but also cold and menacing, as he for the moment stood still, staring at Blanca from a few rows over, "likewise, strictness will be your undoing; the Hollows or 'white masks' you refer to will be the least of your worries tonight if you keep on like this."

Jin again points to the back room, to the door that Blanca had so defiantly closed, and soon the knob would begin to rattle, much like the store's now missing sign had moments ago.

"You see, I'm led to believe you have unknowingly acquired something that belongs to me and my people, and I won't 'turn around and leave' until I've reclaimed it."

The back room's door handle would begin to shake more intensely, with a furor, and soon the entire door was rattling, it's hinges wrenching from the wood, it's frame cracking apart.

"I'm more than willing to buy it off you," Jin's grin widens, and his eyes burn with the malevolence of a devil, "but I'll also take it by force if need be, and in that case I can't guarantee I won't leave you twisted and broken."

The back room door ceases it's rattling just then, and begins to slowly creak open. From behind the back room door, Blanca might have glimpsed something peering at her-- a wispy, bestial, skeletal visage-- but as the lights above and all over the store began flickering, the apparition fades.

Blanca might have also noticed that at this point, Jin wasn't where he had been seconds before, he's beside her, crouched down and looking behind her back, one hand pressed to her weapon, asking in sarcastic fashion,

"and what's this you're hiding over here? It looks terrifying."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSHIT. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ SHIT.

The sound of lock TWISTING, made her blood run cold. Blanca, was certainly not from this town ; it was painfully obvious, in her build, the color of her skin, loppish ears. She'd been a target, since she'd arrived, yes - but almost entirely to puzzled stares, and too - loud whispers.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤClutch on bat only grows tighter.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝ SORRY, babe ; my hours are strict. ❞

What did she do ..? Press the PANIC button under the counter ? Charge at him ? ( No, dumbass, he's bigger than you, and seems to have courted some kind of breeze, atop that. ) Any, and all instances in her mind, end in a not so great way. And she wasn't willing to die for her collection.

❝ EVERYTHING, is painstakingly curated. From the bones, to the books, to the stones. But, since it IS closing hour, you're gonna have to come back.

BACKROOM'S for employees, only. And I, am the only motherfucking employee. ❞

Tail, waggles in agitation at her back, thankfully unseen. No one took the wrath of a rabbit, seriously, but they were STUPID not to. Free hand reaches for knob to backstock's door, and slams it shut, if only to push her point across.

❝ I've chased weirdos off for less. So, if you'd kindly, just turn around and leave, we won't have any issues. I already gotta fend off the white-masks that wait for me to leave this place. ❞

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"Yes it would be nice if this transformation never occurred, wouldn't it?" Jin said, in a tone that was smooth yet bordered on mocking, "if you could simply have the life you knew before returned, if you no longer had to struggle with the nature of what you have become, and what you have yet to become."

The wind that brushed against Lyric, though it stays cold and evokes a sense of something withered and pestilent clasping its wretched hands on their flesh and scales, now carries with it something else; it carries Jin's voice, making it sound as if his lips were hovering just inches from Lyric's ear.

"Der Würfel ist gefallen, alea iacta est," there is, for a moment, another voice that accompanies Jin's, the voice is faint, and disembodied, but it briefly echoes his every word, "the die is cast, that is, there's no going back and avoiding your future."

Again, there was a part of Jin that sympathized with Lyric, or something close to sympathized anyway; ages ago, he too had longed for simpler times, longed to avoid becoming something he wouldn't recognize, before he had learned the true nature of the world, the nature of the powers that drove it. How unfortunate, Jin thought, that Lyric still hadn't learned the same.

"What that future pans out to be, and who you harm on the way there..." Jin continued, though there was more that came from him, as Lyric would soon find out.

Jin couldn't get into Lyric's head, as in, he couldn't read their thoughts in any meaningful way, it was something he chalked up to their draconic nature, but he could still send his thoughts out to be perceived by them, at least until they made an effort to block such things out.

These thoughts, accompanying Jin's words, would be mental images of two people much like Lyric themselves, Dragonclad-- clearly from ages passed, but Dragonclad all the same, Humans covered in glittering scales, and brimming with power.

"... is something you may be able to influence, if you get yourself together and put your wailing to rest."

One of the Dragonclad in those mental projections transforms into something resembling a Dragon; it's something grand, something radiant, something adored by those around it, though there's also a sense that the original Human within it is... gone, entirely.

"But regardless, your future, your destiny, it inches closer every day, and no matter what you do, you will find yourself caught within its storm."

The other Dragonclad within these mental projections of Jin's begins morphing into a monstrous figure, a winged creature surrounded by many others like it, and even creatures resembling Hollows; it was something akin to a Dark Dragon, and like the previous creature, there's a sense that it too, retains nothing of the Human it once was.

"How you lose yourself is entirely in your hands, but you will lose yourself," Jin continuously projects those two images from his mind toward Lyric's, he tries to emphasize them, to make Lyric bear witness for as long as he could, for as long as Lyric would tolerate it, "and look at how marvelous it will be once you slip away," that disembodied echo chimes in again with Jin's voice, dripping with malevolence,

"look."

-> They dislike this strange over awareness of how he circles them, like a rabbit holding completely still and hoping the fox loses interest. They know better than that, of course, but it doesn't make their skin crawl any less when his eyes are malicious upon them, voracious for the soul they may someday become. They can feel his stare scalding the back of their neck like a branding iron, and one hand comes up to aggressively scratch at the phantom sensation to shoo it away. Their tail curls tight around their shins and ankles, body bunched up as tight as they can get it. Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me.

"... ... not everyone is like that..."

-> A poor rebuttal. The number of beings they have met who were moments from cutting them in two or devouring their organs far outnumbered those who extended a gentle hand to them. ——and even the hands they did receive were not perfect. How many people sought to use their unique nature for their own gain? How many knew little about their needs and treated them like a houseplant, occasionally in need of watering? Lyric could not return home, could not escape to the world of the living, could not fit in with others of their relative age among the students in the academy, if they were ever allowed back in. They are overflowing with insecure, unstable emotions and ravenous for the attention of anyone who may earnestly give it. How else could they make themselves a comfortable hole in Hueco Mundo, surrounded by those that may have otherwise swallowed their soul whole? How else could they tolerate avoiding Hollows and never straying too far from their space?

-> It was a vicious cycle they had been trapped in: sent away to be tested on to understand the full extent of their being, and yet constantly subject to their life being on the line. The strength of their soul swells in response, determined to live, which then only attracts more who are starved for that meal. They are placed in mortal risk again, their soul grows, and the cycle continues. Lyric worries that after some point they may fail to contain themselves like an overflowed amphora, the pressure of their own soul on their body rupturing it. Cool air runs through the gaps of their curls and leaves them shivering as their thoughts whirl around: they want to be normal. They want to live, if only just barely. They don't want to become something else for him to eat.

"I don't want to strike back at anyone... ! I just want to be free of it!"

-> He's behind them and they hate it. How their muscles tense up and their throat closes shy, how their body wants to cave into a circle and never come out. Something grabs and claws at their chest and their hand comes to clutch at the frot of their shirt. Their breathing staggers. They feel nauseous.

"I just... ... I just want my life back. I want my human life back. I don't want to... I don't know how to control what I'm becoming. I don't want to hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it.

I won't lose myself. I can't..."

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No real answer loosed from her lips, and no sip taken from her glass, Jin had to admit that Gabriella navigated this dance of theirs with a cunning sharper than any blade on this earth, the perfect companion to her boundless charm. Of course, while no ground was given on her end, Jin was not blind to what Gabriella had put forth.

The way Gabriella tortuously brought her breath against Jin and her lips near him a second time (how delicious and soft they looked). The way she teased him with her touch (her skin put the finest fabrics to shame). The way Gabriella's words both pulled Jin in and stung (never was there a sweeter poison than what dripped from her tongue). The way Gabriella's hips continued to gently sway and her eyes glittered like emerald-esque stars etched into the cosmos (mesmerizing did not begin to describe). All of it, all of it at once was almost enough to drive Jin mad.

There was more, though, more that Jin could see and feel beneath Gabriella's surface. Jin could feel that sensation again, that darkness, that power within Gabriella, that ancient force that intrigued him so--- this time, however, he felt a voraciousness from it, though whether it hungered for the contents of Gabriella's glass, or for Jin himself, he couldn't quite tell.

The air of hunger that Jin picked up from that mysterious force would prompt a voice to speak up in the back of his mind, the voice of his Doll, commenting, 'do you seek to doom us both with this one, or are we to be their doom? I do not know which excites me more.'

Surely, one day, if anything, it would not be his doom that was found, Jin thought, but to say he didn't share the same sentiment as his Doll wouldn’t be right; whether Jin was one day the end of Gabriella, or she the end of him, it would excite all the same.

However, that potential avenue, and the myriad of others, would never be explored if Jin and Gabriella continued on the way they had been tonight, he knew this well.

Was there a need to rush? Not necessarily. There were still some nights ahead before Jin departed on his trip, and even if Gabriella didn't accompany him this time, there would be other opportunities, other ventures across the globe that he night take her on, months or years from now...

But here the two of them were tonight at fever pitch now. Here Gabriella was, all but directly daring Jin to make a move and show her something worth her attention, something that would seal the deal.

Could this energy, this night, and everything that it might birth truly be replicated again? Would Gabriella even entertain future notions such as this if Jin held back tonight, and left without resolution? It was possible, Jin supposed, but with the tension that pervaded this dance of theirs having grown as intense as it now was, slowing down seemed to be the wrong call.

Perhaps it was time to indulge in something more risky.

"If a 'no' were to ever delight me, it would come from your lips," Jin said as his arms confidently went to move around Gabriella, his hold being firm but at no point enough that she couldn't push him away or free herself if she wanted to, "but if that was your answer, I would have heard it long ago, wouldn't I?"

Suddenly, without warning, with the same imperceptible speed and movement that minutes ago Jin had used to flash ahead of Gabriella outside the balcony railing, he had taken her to the center of that very balcony, his arms still around her and his mouth hovering over the side of her neck.

There within Jin flared the desire to sink his teeth into Gabriella and taste of her Soul-- not devour it entirely, not take it in and absorb all of its secrets, just taste, just enough to satisfy. Jin's ilk called it Das Erbarmen, The Mercy, or the little feast, an act that would not kill, an act that a creature of his age could easily work.

With great hunger and excitement, Jin thought about the flavour that might run along his tongue, thought about how delectable the strands of Gabriella's essence might be as they melded with his own the moment his teeth bored deep into her flesh.

There was a problem, though; that mysterious force, that darkness Jin could feel hanging around and within Gabriella more acutely than before, no doubt stirred by his actions tonight. Jin was aware that impulsively drawing such a force into himself, a force he currently knew little of, could be perilous even in small amounts.

That is why Jin ultimately stays his fangs from Das Erbarmen. Instead, one of Jin's hands works its way up to Gabriella's, where she coddled the still pulsating chalice and its unconsumed contents, while his other hand makes its way slowly up the side of her body, from her hip, to her shoulder, and then to her chin.

"Almost there, you say."

Jin spoke in a near whisper, as the hand that had found its way under Gabriella's chin gently cupped it, and pushed, tilting her face to be aligned with his own while he stared down from over her shoulder. Present in Jin's eyes was an unnatural gleam, and while that wasn't an uncommon sight tonight, perhaps now more than ever, his eyes were like rubies that had been illuminated by the most sanguine of flames.

"How much closer will this take us then, I wonder?"

Jin leans down over Gabriella's shoulder, his hand still cupping her chin as he brings his lips close to hers. There is a moment where Jin mirrors Gabriella's tease from before, where he lets his breath linger against her, his lips hovering mere inches from her own, letting the distance between them sink in (so very close and yet still somehow so excruciatingly far apart) and it seems like he may not go much farther.

At the very last second, however, right when it looked like Jin might pull away and again leave the tension, the dare, the energy between them unfulfilled, he moves in with a ferocity, pressing his lips to Gabriella's deeply, and fervently.

The touch of Jin's lips would be cold in a sense, harboring a preternatural chill that was reminiscent of dead flesh, but smooth they were, enticing, and amid the tension between him and Gabriella that was flared further by the workings of his tongue against her own, it was easily intoxicating.

Not to speak of the sensations that Jin himself was dealing with, finally touching Gabriella's lips, finally touching her in this most intimate fashion. There were scarce words to describe the way Gabriella's lips inspired within Jin both palpable violence and bliss; oh how Jin wished to not simply have Gabriella, but to keep her, be it wholly, or in shorn pieces.

Of course, Jin would not lose himself to this kiss and all it inspired.

It was admittedly hard for Jin to pull away, harder than he thought it might be, harder than he wanted it to be. It bordered on agony to know Gabriella's lips and then willingly leave them, akin to pulling a knife from the deepest of wounds. Pull away Jin does, though, just far enough for his and Gabriella's lips to part.

"Deny the drink if you wish," Jin speaks with the smoothness of a devil, his gaze locked to Gabriella's as his other hand-- the one that had been brought to her own-- moves slightly, causing the chalice in her hand to sway, "but don't deny me your presence these coming months, and don't deny yourself all the fun that will come with it; say yes, say you will travel with me."

Her breath came slower now, but not from calm — from a deliberate, steadying control. The moment Jin closed the distance, slipping into the air beyond the balcony rail as if the earth itself bent to his will, something inside her coiled tight, pulling taut with tension. He moved like a shadow given flesh — one moment teasing at the edges of her awareness, the next right before her, his hands braced on the railing, his eyes glowing with that devilish, unnatural fire that stirred something dangerously close to her skin. Her fingers tightened on the delicate stem of the wine glass, its weight suddenly more noticeable, more alive as the glow from the blood-infused liquid pulsed through it. She felt it — not just in her hand, but in her wrist, her arm, slipping through the cage of her ribs in a slow, deliberate current. The air between them thickened, wrapped in the scent of wine and something richer, something laced with power and promise.

Jin’s words wound around her, smooth as silk, laced with amusement and confidence. The chuckle in his throat when she pulled away, the casual flirtation woven into his taunts — they were all calculated, Gabriella knew. He was testing her. Pushing, watching, savoring every flicker of reaction in her eyes, every shift of her body. And then his fingers touched her — light, careful, a brush along her cheek that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. His hand slipped into her hair, cool fingertips tucking a lock behind her ear with a gentleness that didn’t match the tension coiled between them. For a moment, it wasn’t his words that disarmed her — it was that touch. That delicate, achingly deliberate touch that said, I could push harder… but I’m choosing not to. Her lips curved in the faintest of smiles, her pulse racing in her throat.

“You’re dangerous, Jin,” The witch murmured, voice like honey edged in steel. Her eyes, sharp as cut emeralds, lifted to meet his without flinching. “And you make living deliciously sound like an invitation no sane woman would refuse.” Her free hand moved, almost absently, to the railing, fingers brushing the cold metal. She needed that touchpoint, that grounding, because under her skin something stirred — something old, something restless, that didn’t care for caution or games. She could feel the hunger inside, the force she’d carried for years — and it responded now, not to Jin’s power, but to the invitation of it. It shifted in her veins like a murmur, brushing against her senses, tasting the energy that pulsed from the wine and the man before her.

“But the problem is…” Gabriella tilted her head slightly, her hair sliding like a silk curtain through Jin’s fingers, “I’ve never been the sort of woman who surrenders because someone tells her to.” The wine glass pulsed again in her hand, and the hum of it rippled through her — a delicate, insistent vibration she felt in her bones. Her grip flexed around the stem, and for a heartbeat she imagined what it would be like to surrender — to let herself drink, to let that strange, intoxicating power slip past her lips and bloom across her senses. She imagined, and her stomach tightened. But instead, she slowly turned the glass between her fingers, watching the swirl of crimson and gold dance like a galaxy captured in liquid form.

Her eyes flicked back to his, sharp and gleaming, her smile curved in a way that was both playful and edged. “Tell me, Jin,” she murmured, voice low enough to slip under his skin, “when was the last time someone told you no… and you liked it?” She shifted closer. Not a step. Not even a deliberate lean. Just a slow, subtle movement that brought her lips within a breath of his jaw, her breath warm against his skin, her scent threading through the air between them. She lingered there — not touching, but there, letting him feel the heat of her body, the soft promise in the space they shared, without giving in. Her lips parted — just slightly — as if she might brush them against his skin, as if she might lean in and finish the dare hanging between them. But she didn’t.

Instead, her fingers lifted, brushing lightly against Jin’s hand where it rested near her hair — feather-soft, a whisper of contact that sparked heat up her arm. Her nails barely skimmed his skin as she pulled her hand back to claim the glass again, the movement slow and unhurried. “If you want me on that plane…” she murmured, her words laced with a teasing edge, “…in that glass…” her lips curved into a wicked smirk, “…in your arms…” she let the pause stretch, her voice dipping lower, silkier, “you should know by now — I don’t follow. Not unless someone gives me a reason worth chasing.” And then, with agonizing slowness, she lifted the glass.

The glow flared against her lips, the liquid shifting like molten light, and for a heartbeat Jin might think she would finally give in, finally drink. But at the last moment, Gabriella paused — a delicate, razor-sharp hesitation that turned the act into something electric. Her lips hovered just above the rim, parted ever so slightly, her breath brushing the glass as if to kiss it. Then, with a small, wicked smile, she lowered the glass again, the glow still flickering between her fingers.

“Maybe,” she murmured, her voice like a caress, “you’re almost there.” And then the witch turned — slow, graceful — and crossed back to the railing, her hips swaying with a subtle, unhurried rhythm, every movement humming with controlled tension. She didn’t glance back immediately, letting the silence thicken behind her like a second skin, letting the unspoken invitation linger in the air between them. When she did glance back over her shoulder, it was with a look that was pure challenge — and pure promise. She hadn’t said yes. But she’d made it very clear she was waiting to see if he could make her.

[doomxdriven]

"Today?"

"Today."

"You're sure?"

"....... Mostly."

"..........." (Contemplating an attempt at wringing Jin's neck)