grinningdevils

[grinningdevils]

[grinningdevils]

[grinningdevils]

[grinningdevils]

Eloise had learned what it meant to be a Westwood in her youth, and had spent so much of her adolescence in restless impatience to grow up so she could too, stake her claim on the family name. She relished in the idea of being a family representative at various fancy charity galas of which her father was obviously a benefactor. To introduce herself as Eloise Westwood and enjoy the immediate respect she had earned just by breathing the name. But now that she's regularly in these rooms that she so desperately craved to see, it's a dull, suffocating affair. Her cheeks ache from smiling sweetly, hidden molars clenching together to stifle all the things she wants to say to instead of thank you. It was a pleasure meeting you. Yes I'm just as shocked as you at what my father did. No, I don't know where he is, I only hope he is found by the appropriate authorities soon.

It's a surprise and yet a relief to see Ludovica approach, and Eloise's shoulders release some of the tension they've been storing as she's swanned from donor to donor. "Oh you have no idea," she comments with a huff, mirroring the brunette with a sip of her own champagne. "How did you manage to get sucked in to coming tonight? Not that I'm ungrateful to see you, I just hope you didn't get stuck with that insufferable Mr Thornby and his wife. Vile couple." The blonde nods enthusiastically at the idea, checking the time on her phone. It's late enough in proceedings to slip away unnoticed. "I'd love nothing more."

@grinningdevils

LOCATION: some rich people event. FOR: eloise westwood.

SINCE SERA'S DEATH, LUDOVICA had found herself becoming far more reclusive than she used to be. while she found herself irritated with a grand majority of people -- it had taken such a monumental loss to realize just how often she forced herself into situations where she had to deal with them. her time was far too expensive for most of the people in this room, who had more money than most would ever dream of. but then came the time when it was mandatory for her to at least make some kind of appearence. but she most certainly didn't have to like it. she could plaster on a fake smile as much as the next person -- but most of the time was meant radiating judgement in the corner. her interest is piqued, however, when her eyes fall on a fellow serpent. adjusting her suit jacket, she takes a sip from her glass of champagne. " do you find this entire thing just as mind-numbing as i do? scratch that. i'm sure you do. " she questions, a coy smirk curling at the edges of her lips. " i'm planning on making my grand escape in a matter of minutes -- if you'd care to join me. "

[grinningdevils]

"Well, we're just going to have to sit tight and trust that the emergency responders are doing their jobs," Eloise replies definitively, ignoring the cold chill of anxiety that's still threaded in her veins. Protection within a gang meant nothing if you happened to find yourself at the foot of a faulty structure. What a disaster. "I kept trying to say that the ferris wheel was looking rickety, but no one would listen to me as usual. I hope the construction company the council hired is prepared to get sued for all they're worth." She can't think about the what ifs, can't think about who might still be in the middle of that mess while they stand on the sidewalk, coughing into cleaner air. Her armour is her callousness, and she can't let it slip. Not until she's alone. "Asher?" Eloise repeats. She knows that name. A memory formed only hours ago that now feels like lifetimes. "What do you mean rough shape? Is the little girl with him?"

Abigail felt like she could've been doing more, but she didn't know where to begin. She hadn't done anything in the medical field for a few years, had instead been focusing on her fashion career. For the first time in her life, she was actually having regrets about that. There were so many people around, and it stressed her out. She didn't know what to do, but she felt like she needed to do something with her hands to stop them from shaking. She wasn't doing too well, and she wanted to mask that.

"I don't know how many people are hurt," she told her, shaking her head. "That explosion ... it was pretty big. I'm worried for all the people who were there." She nodded, a small sigh escaping her lips. "I'm fine, yeah." Abby sighed, eyes darting around at her surroundings. "I'll make sure you get seen, Eloise. Don't worry." She sighed, brows furrowing in confusion. "No, I just .... It's Asher. He's here and he's in pretty rough shape."

[grinningdevils]

Dylan's tongue brushes his lower lip, an amused grin twisting against his features, pushing the skin from his hollow cheeks up underneath his eyes. Despite his tiredness, there's a brazen glint in them. Daring, almost. Ruby's candor is unexpected, but not unwelcome and for a moment he just smirks at her, a silent question in the air like a balloon. He lets a few beats pass before he places the Budweiser on her kitchen island, fingertips wet from the condensation. If he knew where the bathroom was he'd start heading there, but the layout of Ruby's home is foreign to him. "Guess it can't be any worse than what I currently smell like," he quips. "Don't tell the guys though." He lets out a singular low chuckle, taking a few steps backward towards the door. "So, are you?"

she liked to believe she had a good read on most people. ruby was an observer first and foremost. it was what made her valuable. she paid attention to the details most people wouldn't think to consider. plus, she'd seen and heard dylan in action. shame didn't appear to be a word in his vocabulary. she didn't necessarily see it as a bad thing, either. in fact, she sort of admired it. confidence wasn't a quality she found in everyone. she didn't want him dirtying up her furniture or standing in there for too long, allowing the smell of smoke to linger. ruby scoffed at his words, rolling her eyes in amusement. "if i wanted to catch a glimpse of you naked, i wouldn't hide in the shadows of my apartment and try to peek through the door. i'd just ask to join you." she wouldn't, because she didn't possess the same kind of confidence that he did, but she could pretend. "i'll get you a towel and a washcloth. hope you don't mind smellin' like strawberries, though."

[grinningdevils]

Despite the thick cast and uncomfortable crutches that now accompany her every move, Stella is itching to get back to work. Even though she's not officially allowed to go back to duty for a few weeks yet (at minimum, it had been stressed by her supervisor) that doesn't mean she can't indulge in some... research. Passive observation, she tells herself. Low risk, but imperatively informative to some of her cases.

In lieu of a comforting alcoholic drink (the joys of pain medication), Stella is nursing a soda at the bar when she hears a voice that still makes her stomach turn with unwelcome butterflies. She can't stand the fact that Charlie gets to see her like this - weakened and vulnerable. Unable to really defend herself with anything but her words. "I already have a drink, thanks," She bites, more cordially then he deserves. "Is that all?"

closed starter | @grinningdevils

location: any random bar

Charlie knew, somewhere deep deep down that trying to get under Stella's skin again was never a good idea but a part of him liked it more because of that. He almost welcomed and encouraged any form of violence of meanness from the woman, it was hot and he was only a man. That thought carried him over to her at the bar the second he saw her, made him sit down and lean against the bartop. "Hey stranger. You look particularly delicious today. Let me buy you a drink?"

[grinningdevils]

Eloise saunters across the park to the discreet, predetermined location she had included in her original text message. Many may have thought that Central Park was a foolish place to conduct covert business, but the blonde has always felt more at ease in a crowd. To onlookers, they could be anyone. Just another couple in a sea of New Yorkers and out-of-town tourists.

He's different from what she imagined - more clean cut than what she expects from a slippery drug peddler in the big city, but she can respect the camouflage. After all, isn't she too, poison underneath a doe-eyed gaze?

"I'm looking for information, and I heard you might be the right person to get it," Eloise announces, not wasting time with pleasantries. Her arm is bent at the elbow, prada bag slung in its crook. She lifts it, faking an adjustment to flash the brand. "For a price, of course." She was good for it, if the intel was worthwhile.

♡ ˚ ﹔ closed @grinningdevils closed. ♡ ˚ ﹔ muse ; cole.

he glanced the girl over, brows furrowing slightly. "what can i do for you?" he questioned, arms moving to fold across the chest. it was about as polite as he could get. manners were not something cole typically displayed, and he had never been shy about making that known. when she chose to approach him, she had to have that in the back of her mind. he didn't think she was there to buy anything off of him. she looked too clean cut for that, but he'd been surprised in the past. he wouldn't assume, he'd just let her tell him.

[grinningdevils]

Dylan nods in some kid of silent act of solidarity, not knowing the full extent of Brooklyn's pain but acknowledging its scope anyway. It was rare to have someone in their ranks who wasn't carrying just a little bit of damage around in their bones. He turns his back and reaches for the tequila, plucking it lazily off the shelf and returning to the front counter where he's already tabled the shot glass. "You gonna want lime or salt or any of that shit?"

Brooklyn gave him a weak shrug, "Can't be more dangerous than the shit I'm use too." She mumbled, more to herself but it was still audible. The shit she had been through the last several months were enough to break someone, and yet here she was. "I'm sure I'd drink it anyway, I just need something, anything. Hopefully strong."

[grinningdevils]

"Yeah no, I hear what you're saying I just think it's fuckin' stupid, brother," Dylan berates down the line to one of his fellow prospects, suggesting some half-cocked robbery that was always destined to fail. "And that's comin' from me." He slows to a stop in the line, feet already tapping the floor with impatience. He hadn't slept all that well the last few nights and needed caffeine like a junkie.

He hasn't paid attention to the person in front of him until she spins around, a nonplussed grin forming in ihs features. he hangs up without saying goodbye. "Well well what are the chances of this?" Dylan comments with amusement at the coincidence. "You followin' me?"

closed starter | @grinningdevils location: a coffee shop

Blake wouldn't survive without coffee, especially not on days when they had work to do. On those day the medium very quickly upgraded to a large. She was waiting in line, internally judging someone who was taking far too long to order when she heard a familiar voice behind her who made her spin on her heel. "Oh it's you again. We have got to stop meeting in coffee related situations. "

[grinningdevils]

"Like what?" Dylan queries, unaware his face has morphed into anything outside his regular default perfunctory expression. "And yet, you haven't and I don't think you will. You like me too much." He nudges her in the ribs with his elbow with a grin. "But seriously, you think that guy Jackson is my fuckin' cousin or somethin'? It's like lookin' in a slightly uglier mirror." The resemblance is so uncanny that Dylan has found himself questioning his parents' possible illicit affairs that could have produced this lookalike. To both wind up here in New York on a coincidence would be a story he'd never get tired of telling. "Is water wet? Course I wanna get a fuckin' drink. Lead the way."

status: closed | @grinningdevils (dylan) location: anywhere private

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She questioned, her head turning towards him. Honestly, his expression was a little refreshing, a nice sight to see after the chaos of the carnival. "I hope you know I was serious when I mentioned hitting you." Though Kaia was serious she couldn't help but laugh, which was something she couldn't actually thank him for. "Do you want to get a drink or not?"

[grinningdevils]

Dylan sips, silently regarding Ruby at the other end of the bottle. She's checkmated him in a single well-read assumption and for a moment he doesn't know how to quip back. Of course he doesn't care - he's stripped naked and streaked the streets of his temporary homes more times than he can count for nothing more than a dare. A promise of a drink. A promise of a story to tell. Modesty is not in Dylan's wheelhouse, but the interaction has provided him with a fresh observation about the brunette. How she hasn't recoiled at the thought of him parading around her apartment for the next however many hours sporting nothing but a sliver of cotton. "Alright," he shrugs without much thought. Either way, he does fucking stink and he is desperate to get clean. "As long as you don't try and peek through the crack in the door. I'll know if you're watchin' me."

She didn't mind him coming into her home. Ruby didn't exactly keep beer on hand regularly, as it wasn't her drink of preference. If some was left over, she let it sit in the fridge for guests who did enjoy it. She furrowed her brows as she watched him, choosing to refrain from remarking on the harmful risks that came from opening beer bottles with his teeth. He was the one who had to pay his dentist. She was grateful for the fact that he wasn't tracking dirt all throughout her home. At least he had some courtesy. She was upset, but she wasn't letting it show. "You're welcome to sit in a towel while they wash and dry," she told him, shrugging. "You don't really strike me as the modest type, so I assumed you wouldn't really care."

[grinningdevils]

iMessage: Eloise

Angelina: I could do that, I mean I don't need other money its all just the fun of the game Angelina: Babylon? Lucky's old joint Eloise: oh of course, steal from the rich and give to the.. well, rich hehe Eloise: okay, I can do that Eloise: Babylon could sooo use an upgrade, I hope whoever takes it over has some better taste

[grinningdevils]

"Evie, hi..." Stella murmurs groggily, allowing herself to relax now that the reporter's face has become clearer in her hazy vision. Despite Evie's tenaciousness for information digging, she was inherently a good person, and it's somewhat of a relief to see her here. Heartwarming to see the bouquet of flowers held tightly in her hands. There's no bad blood between them despite Stella's hesitance to cooperate previously. She wants to help so desperately, but she can't risk losing her job. Especially since she was already walking the tightrope with Sofia. "No, you didn't wake me," she smiles, pressing her palms into the mattress to push her body up into a sitting position. "Pretty numb, to tell you the truth, although I think this drip might have something to do with it." She points to the IV pole standing to attention beside her with a weak chuckle. "What have I missed?"

Evie didn't have many friends - she had acquaintances, but Stella was different. Stella was one of the only detectives that didn't shoo her away - that wasn't outwardly an asshole to her and so when Evie heard it was Stella amongst the wounded, it scared her. Bringing a bouquet of get well soon flowers, Evie walked into the hospital, not her favorite place by any means and found Stella's room. It was alarming, to see her hooked up to so much and to see such a woman brought down by the flame and blast that happened literally right in front of her. "Stella ... " Evie breathed out, when she saw the woman open her eyes. "Hey - hi. It's Evie. I - I don't know, maybe a minute or two? I didn't wake you up, did I?" She softly asked. "How - How are you feeling?"

[grinningdevils]

Stella smiles at the gesture, the warmth of the sentiment cheering her much more than she can convey in her features. The morphine makes her sluggish, her body only allowing her enough energy for the most necessary of movements. Still, her lips tug into a faint curve, and she hopes that's enough. "You know, I'm actually not sure..." she frowns, her eyes glancing to the food tray attached to her bed, noticeably bare. As if her stomach has been privy to the conversation it rumbles, and she suddenly feels ravenous, like the past 24 hours has finally caught up with her. Still, the thought of a burger makes her roil with nausea. "I might have to start with something bland first. Maybe a bagel or a croissant, and work my way back up to a burger with you." Another feeble smile. What Stella really craves is the tomato soup her Mom used to make. Her Mom. Is she here? Her brother?

She has so many questions for Iris but they all die with the revelation. Thick and regretful, hanging suspended in the air. "Six?" Stella croaks, heat prickling at the corners of her eyes. six people she couldn't reach because her mind and body had failed her when she needed it most. She hadn't been paying enough attention to the stall, clearly groaning a warning to her before it fell. She hadn't been strong enough to wrestle herself out of its grasp. And six people had paid the price. She tries to swallow the braided knot of guilt but she can't. It persists and strangles, and Stella has to bite down on her tongue to stifle a sob. "Who?" Give me the faces, the names, she thinks. I deserve to be haunted.

FRIENDS WERE RARE IN this line of work. that’s not what even she was there for, when all was said and done. the best people come into your life in the most unexpected of ways — with the most unexpected of differences. iris never expects to care about people, but she inevitably always does. no matter how much effort she makes to fight it, even if she knows how badly the potential cut of betrayal could inevitably bleed. she gets close, because her heart needs to. and yet, stella has always stood by her side — no matter what. now, it was iris’ turn to stand by her. even if stella was the kind who believed she had to fight battles on her own.

iris can feel her shoulders releasing the longer she stands in the doorway, eventually entering the room. she’s never liked hospitals, they remind her of death. her mother had died in one in brooklyn — and her father had somehow never forgiven her for it. like it was somehow all her fault. iris smiles gently through the swirling emotions in her stomach, placing the roses down. “ real ones always die. “ she murmurs, even if she knows the sentiment is always appreciated. “ good…. good. any idea about what they’re letting you eat yet? because there can definitely be a burger and fries in your future. all you have to do is ask. “ at stella’s question, her face becomes softer. adeline. she was gone. five other people had left this world, on a day that was supposed to be full of love. adeline had meant something to nico, someone she cared about. “ i’m okay, i’m okay…. there’s a couple people with injuries, but all are on the mend…. six people didn’t make it. “ the last words feel like a weight, getting heavier as she continues to speak.

[grinningdevils]

For someone who wasn't in the eye of the storm for long, Dylan looks like hell. His usual sandy strands are coated with soot that he can't seem to get rid of no matter how many times he pats his head in the hospital bathroom. Ash has nestled into his pores and stuck there. There's a hole on the lower half of his shirt, exposing a sliver of stomach. He looks like he's over-committed to an audition for an all-adults production of Oliver Twist.

He's sore, too. His back aches from being bent under the weight of Willem's body resting on his as he half-ran, half-stumbled towards the flashing lights that signalled safety. his legs ache from being sat too long in these rigid hospital chairs as instructed by Zak, waiting for word on Willem and Asheer to report back. Dylan stands up slowly to stretch the ache out, taking no more than three steps down the hall when he's bumped. He glances at his assailant, surprised to see who's just apologised to him without spontaneously combusting. He's too tired to think of some smart, sarcastic quip but can't help a feeble barb anyway. "Oh it's you. Wow, you look like shit."

♡ ˚ ﹔ closed @grinningdevils ( your choice. ) ♡ ˚ ﹔ muse ; natalie.

Natalie had spent the entire night waiting for something to happen. She had never knowingly allowed her guard to slip, and yet, she had been caught entirely off guard by that explosion. She supposed everyone experienced that initial shock, though. She'd done what she could, tried to look for her own people, but hadn't had any luck finding them. In the midst of the chaos, she'd gone to the hospital, waiting for any sort of information on if anyone she knew and cared for had been admitted. Her phone had been lost in the chaos, so she had no way of keeping contact with anyone. She'd been pacing the floors of the hospital, usual, confident demeanor had been replaced with a hint of vulnerability. She was stressed, especially without any method of communication. She'd accidentally bumped into someone in her pacing, head shaking slightly in confusion. "Shit, sorry, " she said before focusing on the other's face to see who she'd even run into in the first place.

[grinningdevils]

Dylan strong-arms his way past what feels like a tsunami of people surging towards safety — wherever that is on the other side of the billowing smoke. He's completely lost sight of Freddie, goddamn him, every muscle in his body resisting going further towards danger. Good to know his fight or flight wasn't all messed up, although he can't confidently say the same for his friend. Fucking Freddie, always having to be the hero in someone else's story.

Dylan pushes on, his vision becoming more and more impaired the further he ventures into the grey thickness of the smoke cloud, oppressive to even the worst of chainsmokers. He stumbles on something and trips, cursing as his hands shoot out in front of him to catch his fall. Now at eye level with the ground, he can see a vague outline of someone moving not too far ahead of him. Immediately thinking it could be Freddie, Dylan crawls towards the figure, realising as he gets closer that its not the signature shaggy blonde of his friend, but still someone he recognises all too well. "Willem," he calls over the noise of structure collapsing, fires crackling. He shakes the tail gunner when he doesn't get a response. "Willem, it's Dylan. How you holdin' up, old man? Can you walk?"

Cupid's Carnival, after the explosion closed. @grinningdevils ( dylan )

The thunder of running feat, the panicked, piercing screams - what his mind logically told him should have been deafening sounds were oddly muted by the sharp ringing in his ears into a dull, incomprehensible wall of sound.

tw blood, injury

Willem took stock of his body part by part - his relief overwhelming when he could move all of his limbs easily ( though they all ached something fierce ), every stinging cut from flying debris too shallow to leave any lasting damage. All in all, despite the throbbing headache behind his eyes, the feeling of nausea building in his throat, the start of bruises blooming into his skin, he wasn't in a bad state - truly.

He just needed a little push to get onto his feet, maybe a little nap to rest his tired eyes-