murdcrofcrows

[murdcrofcrows]

"you can help when you've been treated." santiago continued to admire maisie's strength and their want to get into the field despite the horrible pain they must be going through. that stubbornness was not a trait he passed onto them. no, that was almost identical to that which could be found in lindsay o'halloran. imbedded deep in their genes. not to say there wasn't plenty of stubborn to be found in him, his siblings, and parents. but theirs was a different kind, a different level, and he would argue that one to the grave.

when the clinic came into view there was some relief felt at last, some kind of reprieve in the struggle not to yell commands at maisie like they were one of his trainees and be understanding to her plight, all the while harboring deep worry about their arm, lindsay on the way there, and where the rest of his family was in the midst of all the chaos. "just let me find sera and get you looked at, there are plenty of boots on the ground right now," he hoped there was at least, otherwise he isn't sure he trained anyone right. santiago held open the door for them. "i love you, and i promised a long time ago i wouldn't let anything happen to you, por favor mi corazon, let me." it was a plea made only for their ears, motioning them into the building. "i swear i'd be doing the same thing if you were your uncles or aunts, or even my own mami, si?"

There's a small part of Maisie that seeks to protest, but the larger part responds immediately to the order of their superior and with trained speed and precision, Maisie uses the time Santi has given them to quickly wrap the bandage around the aching, fiery rash spreading across their arm. Without so much as a wince, they tuck the end of it under the bandaging, ignoring the squishiness of a forming blister.

"I'm calm," Maisie replies, pulling a hair tie out of their pocket with one hand and pushing their other hand back through their hair to pull it back, scoop it up, and secure their hair away from their face with the hair tie within less than five seconds. "I'm ready."

As Santi goes, Maisie keeps hold of his hand—in the chaos it's the easiest way to not lose one another—and every order is met by a quick hand squeeze to let him know the order is acknowledged. There's a gut-wrenching cry diagonally behind them and Maisie regrets turning their head to see a woman trampled underfoot of a crowd; everything in them tells them to rush to help, but the cold battlefield logic trained into them from birth immediately recognises a fatality when they see it. Even if Maisie were to risk losing Santi, risk their life as well as his, they wouldn't be able to do anything.

With a deep breath, Maisie focuses on Santi's news that Linds is okay, and any worry about their uncle vanishes; Santi wouldn't let anything happen to him, and he's calm about it, so Maisie can be calm about it. "We need to do somethin'," Maisie calls out to him over the buzzing, protest only verbal, still following the orders they were given. "You gotta let me help, you know I'm not helpless."

[murdcrofcrows]

"it's a good thing you're not a suspicious person, then, isn't it?" santiago answered back without skipping a beat. he knew exactly what he said and what he was implying. the fact of the matter is he was planting seeds. small seeds that, if watered in the right soil, would grow. he could recognize things in people, especially soldiers, and he saw something in them. devan wanted to help, not hurt, that was an exceptional quality to have and was something that could be killed by afterglow's influence, which was strong in the eastern atlantic army.

"if it's just the bugs you're looking to eliminate, i've learned a few methods that work well. soap and water, strong hoses, flamethrowers, and i've seen some skilled machete wielders get a lot done." though for the cicadas it would need protective gear to wield anything melee. "that's for those without guns. they also don't like eucalyptus or vinegar, so dousing as much as you can works exceptionally well." he looked over, after throwing another piece of scrap wood on the pile. "when are you going back?"

Now, Devan may do a ton of stupid fucking shit—something Tully can and would absolutely attest to—but he's not stupid as a noun. Reckless, disregarding their own life, a self-preservation their mother might cry about had they one, and impulsive to a fault. Not stupid. So while he listens to Santi muse about weapon supply lines, despite their current circumstance, amused scepticism creeps into Devan's mind, giving the older man a glance after checking under a market stall.

"Maybe," he responds, moving to another stall to pull through torn tarp. "If I was any more of a suspicious person, sir, I'd assume you're suggesting I commit treason and sedition." Turning their attention to Santi again, Devan raises their eyebrows. "You wouldn't do that to me, a private of the East Atlantic Army, would ya?"

[murdcrofcrows]

for the briefest of moments, santiago allowed himself to bask in the relief of knowing one of his brothers was safe and unharmed. the second moment was taken to smile when he realized he'd cut off, what he could only assume would be, a smart remark about to fall out of javier's mouth. though he enjoyed the remarks, regardless of them being toward him or not, and getting a laugh, on those types of days he had to take a win where he could get it.

one thing he could always appreciate about javier is just how sharp, witty, and incredibly insightful he was. more than he often realized and santiago knew he needed to tell him so a lot more frequently than he did. "i am just fine and i had plenty to hydrate today." half of which was coffee but he wasn't going to add that detail in. something had to keep him upright and often, coffee was all he had if he didn't want to resort to substance use. he looked around more closely, noticing many faces in his house that he didn't recognize. "come have a cup of coffee with me out back? tell me what you know, how you're feeling?" away from the injured that santiago could do nothing more to help. he moved out toward the kitchen to the gurgling coffee maker without getting an answer, hoping he'd follow.

It wasn't that Javier didn't want to help the injured, per se. He just didn't really know how. He couldn't really help them, medically, and he'd never been the type to console particularly well. They were better off without his support, really. Right? He wasn't sure. But in the end, he figured it was best to just stay put awhile. He knew Sera was relatively okay, but he hadn't heard anything from the others - Santiago, Lindsay, Maisie...and eventually, at least one of them would have to come home again.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't the one inevitably running around town like a -" his words are cut off as Santiago throws his arms around him and he loses is breath, letting the words die on his tongue. He returns the hug, pats his eldest brother comfortingly on the back, a hint of a smile touching his lips because there is a flood of relief knowing that he's safe.

"Yeah, yeah - I'm fine, Santi, cálmate." But he can't be certain that Santiago had fared the same way, running through town trying to help everyone he could all afternoon like he likely had been. So he pulls out of the embrace, his hands resting on his brother's shoulders as he looks him over for any sign of the rash he'd seen far too much of today. Just as Santiago surveyed him. "What about you, Superman? You still in one piece? When was the last time you fuckin' hydrated?"

[murdcrofcrows]

"i'll give you a pass this time, big guy," santiago settles in his chair and tries not to wince as he watches beau raise himself up in the bed and work through the pain. he cannot imagine the pain he's in, nor does he want to. santiago has seen many injuries in his time and sat by the bed of many of the injured in several tragedies, he knows he could picture the pain all too well if he wanted to. the screams heard in the streets of burnington, the clinic, and the market were already imbedded in his conscious that he would struggle to sleep for months to come. out of instinct he moved his hand forward to hold in an attempt to comfort but rested it just beside beau's hand instead, gripping the bar there. he certainly didn't want to cause the younger man anymore pain.

the older man glanced over at beau's sleeping partner and sighed before turning back to him with a tight lipped smile. "i've seen you two together, the way they look at you. i think i'd have a better chance asking the sun not to sleep and the moon not to rise in the night sky." he knows all too well he would be a rock at lindsay's side and vice versa, despite the protests from either side otherwise. "that was by design, you know?" and of course he did, santiago saw so much of himself in the younger man. if he hadn't taken the path he did, perhaps he would've ended up in a similar role. "sera and maisie both got hurt, but nothing too bad. maisie had contact with one of the cicadas so their arm is being treated. all the rest seem to be holding up well and keeping busy." he sighed.

"i wish there was something more i could do to help you, we're putting on the pressure though. had a talk with the chief medical officer this morning, if you have any issues here tell ziggy to call me, yeah?" he wasn't going to disturb his rest long, he just wanted to let him know he was being thought about. "i should let you go back to sleep. rest, as long as you can, we'll get you out of here soon, okay?"

how many years has he known santiago now? beau thinks that maybe it would be easier to try and measure one of his most treasured relationships were his head not clouded with chemicals and hazy with fever so he does not even try. he doesn't need to. the man had always had a friendly smile and a kind word to offer him whenever he'd show up at his stand at the market in search of produce, but it wasn't until recently that they'd really begun to grow closer ; maybe it was because of the welcoming warmth he found there or, more than that, the softness beau saw in the older man that gave him hope for his own future, but he's become quite fond of his frequent visits to the muñoz-o'halloran home.

( he's a role model, an inspiration ― a father figure of sorts for the farmer who never had such a luxury before! he wonders sometimes, those rare nights when his mind drifts to darker places, how different his life would've been ― how different dixie's life would have been, all of his sisters ― if their father had been even just a fraction of the man sitting across from him now. )

so to see santiago now, beau can't keep the smile off his face, no matter how badly it hurts to hold it there. he's okay. it's a relief that floods him, comparable to the cool rush of opiates steadily dripping into his burning hot veins. ❝ c-cain't help it, force of habit, ❞ he admits, which is the truth. his mama raised him with manners ― yes sir, no ma'am, all of it ― and it's difficult to turn them off. ❝ give your favorite f-farmer a pass this time? ❞ his hand shifts just a fraction in the bed, enough to find the remote that's tucked in the sheets at his side and he gives it a slight push, enough to tilt the pillowed end of his bed up a few inches. eyes squeeze shut for a second as it stills, even just the slight movement enough to steal the breath from him.

❝ not 'less you can convince them to ... t'go home an' get a few hours sleep in a r- a real bed, ❞ beau says when he manages to look at santi again, his eyes flickering briefly toward ziggy, their lithe limbs curled precariously as they napped in the chair beside santiago. there's another twitch of a smile at his lips ― it's a foolish request, one destined to fail. ( and to be honest, as selfish as it is, beau's glad. goodness gracious, he's so grateful. he couldn't imagine going through this without them. the one time he'd woken in a feverish haze when ziggy had left but for a moment to use the bathroom, he returned to find beau in tears. ) he lets out a quiet, hoarse laugh, but his expression grows more somber as he focuses back on the older man. ❝ i ... i'm hangin' in there, but y'didn't answer me, santi. your family, are they okay? ❞

[murdcrofcrows]

"felix estrada was a friend once upon a time, not unlike the closeness we have but instead of combat family, we bonded more on the medical end of things and the fascination with the human brain." he didn't like knowing that odette had been in that man's care for so long, if she truly was with him all that time. it meant she must've been there before he officially retired and that he could've reported back to dante so much sooner. they could've been reunited a long time ago, like they should've been and been allowed to bond again.

it bothered santiago, how easily he could move through the compound and how familiar it all was to him still. he didn't make a habit of putting any sort of hate in his heart, but if he were to harbor any, it would be for afterglow as a whole and how they had corrupted both the military and government of that land, along with the people. human life should never be so expendable and yet, to them, no one was safe from their snap and unreasonable decisions. "he likes to remind me of the things i did for the eaa while i was enlisted, the control they have over my brother and sister, and just point out that just because i left, doesn't make me any less culpable." santi admitted it like it was easy to say aloud, especially to someone he cared about the same as his own brother and respected just as much.

"he's right," and that was the most painful part of all of it, wasn't it? that someday he would atone for those sins but in the time he had until then he would be doing everything he could to undo the entire corporation. "you already know afterglow tests on people, so it doesn't take too much to imagine what the chief medical officer allows and encourages. he's got a very grey mortality." and he hoped for dante's sake less than felix's that he didn't test on odette. he had no doubt in his mind that dante would succeed in killing the other man, but the repercussions would be greater than anyone could save him from.

There's a time to give orders and there's a time to follow them, and this understanding is why the commanders of the Silver Lining Militia work so well together; aside from the fact that they're as close as brothers—and Santiago and Lindsay much closer still—they're all soldiers, at the end of the day, and they have all had experience in leading, one way or another. Dante trusts his two best friends more than he could ever trust himself, and for a man who knows his own mind as well as he does, that's a lot.

When he'd seen Dot—or thought he had—it had been Santi he'd gone through after she'd inevitably slipped through his fingers; whatever he'd thought of the experience, his brother had sorted him out, set him straight, and rekindled the flame of determination that hopelessness and despair had threatened to extinguish. Nineteen years is a long, long fucking time to keep that alive all by yourself.

"Mhmmm," Dante hums in reply to Santi's instructions, hands shoved into the pockets of his old EC uniform trousers, eyes glancing around as he follows his brother closely. However Afterglow had come to know about Dante's true purpose here, about his true origins, going into the belly of the beast is a risk—but if it means that after two decades, he can finally and definitively rescue the one person who gives his life any meaning, Dante would risk it all a thousand times over.

To Santi's reassurance, Dante didn't reply; he'd never been a man of too many words, but there's nothing to say. Every time Santi had uttered those words over the years, Dante had trusted them, trusted the intention of them, and over the years, he's forcefully swallowed his own doubts to replace them with what Santi insists. "This CMO. Tell me 'bout him. Who's he to you?"

[murdcrofcrows]

"perhaps, if we ever get some time away from all the chaos outside, i'll teach you a thing or two." briefly, santiago thought his mami would be happy to join in as well but he wasn't sure if he wanted her to get too involved with any of the silver lining members that weren't family. he would just have to tell her about it, better that way. the slight interruption lindsay brought with him was a nice distraction to break him out of that spiral of guilt that seemed to be getting easier and easier to slip into. he gave ashton a knowing look after his last comment and shook his head. "i can guarantee there's no one more surprised than me i ended up finding that one and keeping him. but don't get it wrong, i've always been a romantic."

that was the damn truth too. even in his most demanding times, santiago has always been brutally soft. it was both a blessing and a curse, he thought, though most saw it as a blessing. sometimes he wished not to feel and cared so much or at the very least, didn't love so hard. it would save so much heartache and pain, perhaps even time. now he can just hope it doesn't put him in an early grave. "they tell you what's going on within their organization or is this just your observations?" he raised a brow, wondering how much the shamrocks go around spreading information and why he hadn't heard more by then. but the subject changed and santiago was happy for it. the only way to survive this world was to take time to separate out your life from work and what was going on outside. santiago and lindsay had to remind each other of it often, if maisie wasn't doing it or one of santiago's several siblings. "that so? i think i've heard that once or twice, actually. how did you find out?"

Ash chuckled at the mild scolding for his usual words to Santi especially regarding dinner, no matter the years, it was innate in him feel the imposition of his presence, always making sure to make up for their hospitality. Perhaps this was the closest thing he has to family and he doesn't want to screw it up. He'd want to argue that Santi was cooking extra to accommodate him but he knew if he opened his smart mouth again, Santi will actually wash his mouth out. His threats usually hold water, even back in those days when Ashton was young and dumb enough to test that man's patience. "Alright, alright, I'll do the dishes," Ashton conceded pretty quickly with the single line of reasoning, "you'll hafta teach me to cook how you do one day, it's always so good." Not that Ash could ever use those skills in his own kitchen, cooking for one was hard and usually meant meal prepping and eating the same thing for a week, which honestly, Ash didn't mind.

They were briefly interrupted as Lindsay walked through the kitchen, Ash flashing a greeting smile before softening at their display of affection. There was something admirable in their love and it was always nice to see and appreciate that it exists in this world. Perhaps it reminded him loosely to the same warm feeling seeing the love between his parents. He couldn't remember too much anymore but.. it was that feeling. A warmth feeling of love, not for himself, but so strong that it permeates their surroundings. "Hey your house your rules, I didn't say anything," Ash teased and raised his hands in surrender, sharing in the joy and simplicity of the moment, a stray thought wondering if he'd ever experience something like that, "I think it's really sweet," Ash returned a soft but teasing grin, "hard to imagine when you yelled at us back at the academy."

He nodded quickly to the order given regarding the onions, "yes sir," easy enough to get through and keep his hands busy, hands useful. In the back of his mind he wondered if Beau had a talk with Santi yet, Ash had a recent long catch up with his best friend perhaps having a sense but won't say anything just yet. He laughed at the question as he started to peel the outer skin and place them down on the cutting board, "you know me, always surviving, hard to kill even by all the seven sins," the calming rhythmic sound of chopping cuts through as he continued, "work's pretty much the usual, all still good with the Shamrocks, things were a little shaken up by the recent events, but not too much factional unrest," somehow the question about him turned into an answer more pertaining to work, Ash had to catch himself, a constant reminder to try and build that separation between work and life. It's hard to when most of his life in the EAA was all work. So the knife paused as well before he scoffed and added, "and did you know Maisie’s like, really good at poker?"

[murdcrofcrows]

@eatabug

THE OLD GUARD (2020) - Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicoló di Genova ~ everyone's favorite van scene ♥

[murdcrofcrows]

"you should be fine, just be careful on the way home or get a room here for the night. i already saw peacekeepers in town," neve rolled her eyes, never the biggest fan of any kind of law enforcement or authoritarian figures. they always seem to end up making any situation she's in significantly worse. how many times did they drag her and gray back to their father? even once would've been too many, but it was more than that. "also make sure you wear a mask or a scarf your face. they are blowing that dust all over." neve couldn't imagine the hallucinations it brings. dangerous stuff.

she pursed her lips at the last question and thought about it a moment. "i guess it would be possible but i think they might be the size of your arm." the one neve got a glimpse of was huge. she wished she could say that she hadn't seen anything like it before, but she'd encountered lots of strange things since securing her freedom. "do you study many bugs? or do you just like moths in particular?"

"hi neve," dani responded softly, reminding themselves that an introduction on their part wasn't necessary. neve had already known their name, whether it be because she was observant or just because she had read the nametag pinned sloppily to the fabric of their t-shirt. but dani was unsure of what to say now, their hands awkwardly holding onto something just so they didn't look like some sort of statue. never clearly wanted something, but dani didn't want to assume ill intentions of anyone. besides, neve's face was far too kind for them to assume that this interaction was harmful. perhaps that would turn out to be an oversight on dani's part later on, but for now, they were safe.

she was no fool when it came to witnessing what was happening beyond the walls of the crow's nest. she'd been peering outside every now and then, catching glimpses of things that shouldn't exist, of people who seemed to be going mad. dani couldn't help but worry about their sister, wondering if she was at work or at home, and whether or not she'd been hit with whatever it was people were suffering from. "i...didn't know any of that, actually. i've been inside for the last few hours, so i either missed the release of the dust entirely, or i'm just that stupid." they sat up a little bit straighter, eyebrows pulling together so slightly, you wouldn't be able to notice unless you knew dani well. "i'd like to study one of the moths; do you think i'd be able to catch one?"

[murdcrofcrows]

santiago muñoz had many things to regret in his life, not nearly as many as he had to be thankful for, but plenty all the same. one of the biggest ones was not getting his brother benny out of the eastern atlantic army when he retired. what happened to him after, what was still happening to him. he was reminded often that he'd failed him. he's been trying to find a loophole in his contract ever since, even if he feels better that amelia can be there with him most days. still, it bothered him. which is why he made sure to meet up with him whenever possible, even if it meant going on frequent trips back to the compound or slipping away from his husband nibling to the mad scientist.

he must have been downstairs with frankie when benny arrived. she was showing him what she's been working on and he'd made a point to check in on how she was doing. post-traumatic stress was a fickle thing and he wanted to be sure she knew there were plenty of people she could go to if she needed them. he made his way back over to the bar and it didn't take long to spot his brother in the crowd, his heart lurching toward him and feet following after. it was times like these, when things were their hardest, he was reminded just how much he missed having benny there all the time. one of his closest siblings, but also best friends.

"buenas noches hermano, ¿cómo estás?" he greeted, moving in to give him a quick but tight hug. "i missed you too much, everyday." santiago said the words into his shoulder before pulling away to look him over properly. he can't say it was to see if he was in one piece because that ship had sailed many moons ago now. but there was no harm in checking that there wasn't anything new there. "mmm, yes, a paloma. thank you, please, sit with me." he moved to clink his glass against his brother's and take a hearty first drink before answering the question he was going to have to offer a white lie up for. "as good as to be expected." he waved it off because how he was doing was not important, it never was, he was more concerned with benito. "how are you fairing? you know if you want to stay over in the city the spare room is always made for you. now that sera's done playing doctor at my house." something he is certain lindsay is over the moon about.

who : santiago muñoz ( @murdcrofcrows ) where : mad scientist

it's a feeling benedicto suspects he will never get used to, that slimy feeling he gets from slinking around in the shadows, eyes ever-moving in the hopes that they should spot anyone who might be looking for him before he can be found himself. and it's all a bit ridiculous, isn't it? after all, benny isn't a criminal, at least not by the east atlantic army's standards. ( if his actions for the eaa were presented in front of a jury of silver lining members, however, he expects the verdict would change. ) he hasn't done anything. and yet, he moves through spaces such as these as if he were, as if he had. because he knows better.

a dog bred for service and contractually caged, the eaa has benny on a tight leash. no matter where he goes, no matter what he does, he can feel them breathing down his neck. it's not so bad here ― he knows the owner, knows that the mad scientist draws in a crowd of a similar ilk. it isn't difficult for him to find a dark corner to hole up in with a glass of something strong ― only one, and he'll nurse it until he leaves ― and dark eyes sweep the bar, seeking out a familiar face. a tense expression softens the moment it lands on his brother ; there is a smile in his eyes, even if it does not quite find his lips behind the glass.

❝ hola, hermano, ❞ he says when santiago approaches. ❝ te extrañé. ❞ perhaps more sentimental than is normal for the younger muñoz, but it is the truth. his family is always on his mind, but their wellbeing has weighed heavier on his heart this week than it has in years. ❝ you're alright, then? i would have tried to see you sooner pero― ❞ he cuts himself off, knowing that he needn't continue for his brother to understand. a hard swallow and then there's an attempt at a smile on his lips this time. ❝ ―pero i am glad to see you now. ❞ he nods toward the small tabletop between them. ❝ i got you a drink. still the paloma? ❞

[murdcrofcrows]

"lucky it was you and not me, i'd have taken the hand." but finn was a tad more unforgiving and ruthless lately. his patience was damn near non-existent and tolerance was low on the best of days. it was about time he made a trip down to the rings again. that, and find someone willing to get in there with him. he can't take on the new ones anymore after that accident last year. the payouts were too expensive. "we can spin anythin' these days, and that's exactly what i was thinking. glad we're on the same page." finn did like it when they had the same train of thought. sometimes he thought they had the same brain, which if he thought too hard about it, was scary as hell.

the true way to get on top was to make people believe in you more than anyone else. the only way to do that, is to get them to trust that you'll be there when shit hits the fan and all the other bodies in any kind of power aren't able to do shit or were the ones responsible for fucking up in the first place. something afterglow was at fault for over and over lately. they may give them a pretty penny for their weapons, but the shamrocks could make that money elsewhere if need be. he wasn't concerned.

"good," means less shit to stress about going forward. time to discuss something else. "going forward we'll be stepping in anytime afterglow, the religious freaks, governance, or even the jackals fuck up, okay?" it wasn't a question but he wanted to make sure they were on the same page. "also, on a completely different note. i looked into that person baby boy was arrested with down in boot hill. name is kiran and he's in town." finn moved his head both ways to crack his neck. "seems he's a cleaner and he's damn good at it. i want them working for us. told dara to go get them for us, i guess we'll see how the lad fairs."

Feary sets his glass down on the desk and flops down into the chair opposite Finn, stretching his legs out with a sigh. While he's never been the kind of man to cut corners or 'take it easy', with the amount of hours he makes a day, sometimes he wants to simply shoot the next person who addresses him; the quiet times when he's just working with numbers, the rare times he actually spends at home reading feel like a buzzing of absence to Feary now these past few years. Other rare behaviour is the way he leans his head back against the chair, eyes closed with arms casually folded across his stomach, the most relaxed anyone would see him—anyone but Finn, that is.

"Yeah, did," he replies without even opening his eyes; if it wasn't for the fact that he's still replying, one could confuse him for being outright asleep. "Grabbed Dix right in fronta me." There's a long pause as he mulls Finn's suggestion over, not even needing to open his eyes to know the expression on his brother's face—Feary could just hear it in his voice. But it is something to consider, though.

It was fine when these cult fucks kept their weird business out there, in the forests and wherever the fuck else. Burnington is their HQ; if they let them run amok here, what signal would that send to their business partners. "Think we can spin it," Feary agrees, opening his eyes slowly to look up at the ceiling. "Ain't even for the cuttin' down part, just send a message t' 'em, t' our partners, t' the people here." Sitting up, he leans forward onto the desk, looking Finn in the eye. "Make 'em put their faith in us rather'n the peacekeepers."

Leaning back again, Feary shrugs. "Aside from that business, it's lookin' fine. People behavin'. Mostly."

[murdcrofcrows]

"don't worry the rest of the city wouldn't listen to me even if i told them you were givin' out a million credits." and maybe that wasn't completely true but frankie had never been proven wrong on that thought and she wasn't about to start now. she did think javier was dead wrong about people not giving a shit about him. in her head she was damn sure there was a lot more who gave a shit about both a jackal and a muñoz than they did a desta. even though she didn't exactly know how to say it, she was more appreciative of javier in that moment than she ever had been before, which, for the record, was a lot.

"case and point," she declared, pulling out the premixed juice pitcher and a jar of homemade honey. "both for why they shouldn't listen to me and why they don't. you'll just be giving them a quotable reason. i am the mad scientist who owns the mad scientist, y'know?" she chuckled, putting the gin in two glasses then the juice mix and drizzling some honey into each. the lab at home was actually better stocked than the bar because there were some things frankie could only get in small quantities at a time. with a quick stir, she handed the cocktail over to her company, keeping one for herself. "it's called the bee's knees and when there's fresh honey involved it's to die for, won't give you no heartburn neither." which happened to her far too often with some of the sweeter things she concocts for all the sweet tooths in town.

"that doesn't surprise me," there were a lot of them and all of them seemed to have some kind of personal hero complex judging by their professions, javier being the odd one out ( another reason she felt a kinship to him, being the black sheep of her own family line ). she turned and gave a small smile of appreciation before leading him into the living room which was lit by a few lamps versus the windows whose curtains were still drawn. frankie was not keen on seeing what was going on outside.

she shrugged at his question, she wanted to say she was fine but both of them knew that wasn't true. it was their dead wives club membership powers. "i guess i can say i've definitely been better, but i've also been worse. i'm trying not to be worried but i can't open the bar just yet and i don't want to go protest to brick walls and deaf ears, so what else do i have to do but sit here and relive memories or worry?" frankie took a long pull from her glass and sighed out the burn. "and before you ask, yes, i've done every crossword and sudoku puzzle in the house. all i have left is cards and records but i think i blew out one of my speakers trying to drown the noise."

"Nah, I would never," Javier scoffs, as if the idea of him checking in on her were the most improbable possible reasoning for his arrival at her doorstep. But of course, it was exactly what he was doing, even if his reputation might say otherwise. He did care about some people around here, he'd just never been so good at showing it. Not caring - it was easier. Better not to let his heart show, less he open it up to more hurt.

But Frankie was a special case. She'd been through something so similar to Javier's own experience...

"Fuck off, the rest of the city doesn't give a shit about me either way," Javi continues as he steps inside and hands her the leftovers he'd brought. It was true, though - or at least, Javier had been conditioned to believe it from a young age. He wasn't everyone's savior like Santiago and Serafina were. He was a fuck up, a nobody, in the bigger picture.

"I'll be sure to pass on the high praise. And I'd love a drink." He trails after her through the home towards the kitchen. "Should I be the one spreading word around town that you've lost it and have begun talking to inanimate objects?" He continues with the thread of darker humor. "Though hell, if it works for you, who am I to step in the way of it?"

"They're all runnin' around town playing superhero," Javier answers her question with a bit of a huff, head shaking. It wasn't as if he could convince any one of them otherwise, but didn't they all have to be throwing themselves into the face of danger like they were? They'd all made it through relatively unscathed - Maisie and Sera the worst off, with (at least as far as he knew) minimal long term impact. They seemed to be getting better, anyway. Some people weren't. Some were laid out on their potential death beds.

He gives just a brief touch to her lower back as he passes her, not stopping her from continuing the tasks that may be the only thing occupying her mind in the moment, but a simple reminder that he is there. "How are you holdin' up?"

[murdcrofcrows]

finn listened, closely, to every choice word his baby brother reminisces his way. his eyes stay down, fixed on the platinum gold shamrock engraved zippo he was slowly turning in his fingers like a flammable fidget toy. occasionally offering a short 'hmm' noise through closed lips as if he was hearing about it all for the first time. there was little care about them leaving an essential stranger down there, whether they supposedly saved his brother's life or not. that wasn't what they were there for and honestly, he was happy to find out the kid was telling him the truth. even if it was in a roundabout way.

"because i put it there after i wrote it down," he sat up and leaned forward again. "t' name came up recently because of some of the services he's providing in appalachia." in lost angeles primarily but now that they in burnington it means finn has easier access to them. "seems like he's working at the peppered pig. i want you to go find him and get him to come clean for us, bonus for another hitman, but i don't have a designated cleaner and i want one. at the very least, get him to come talk to me." he tapped a cigarette against the desk and paused to light it. "do that and i'll loosen the leash, maybe let ye start takin' on other tasks." he finished in an exhale, then waved him off. he wasn't in the mood to argue. "go on get."

the greeting from his eldest brother is enough to elicit a sound caught somewhere between a snort and a scoff and darach thinks he would've rolled his eyes were they not so suddenly fixated on the piece of paper in his hand. darach normally has quite the taste for formalities, but he's found his interest in decorum to be waning as of late. who would have thought? ❝ like i've got any feckin' clue what time it is. ❞ he loses hours, days within the walls of his brother's empire of sin. there is a pocket watch on him ― one that never leaves his person, mind, tucked carefully into the pocket of a tailored waistcoat ― but the time only reads correct twice a day. it's been that way for six months. darach could fix it. he doesn't.

he finally breaks his gaze from the name scrawled ( so casually, in fucking ballpoint pen ) on the paper when he hears his brother approach and darach, never one to refuse a drink, takes the glass with a nod. christ alive, he needs one right now. a hand reaches out and slides the paper back onto his brother's desk and dara takes a lengthy sip as he tries to figure out how he's supposed to answer finn's question. dara isn't remotely surprised to discover that finn knows he has some sort of relationship with kiran ; he's not ignorant enough to think that his older brother's don't talk, and he suspects there was not a single thing said on the drive back up to burnington that was not immediately relayed to finn.

❝ well, i know he's the reason ye weren't sending feary down to pick up a body. ❞ the irony of that statement is not lost on darach and the corners of his lips twitch up almost imperceptibly for a moment in spite of himself ; he hides the falter behind the rim of his glass. ❝ i met kiran down at boot hill. i'd been there a couple of months, maybe. thought i was being discreet enough, but you and i already know how that story ends. ❞ he swallows past the burn of the whiskey and draws in a slow breath, savors the taste of honey and oak. ❝ there was a hit out on me. kiran ... kiran knew about it, and he helped me get out of there. he got me out of there. ❞

the words taste strange on his tongue ― neither quite a truth or a lie. he hopes it's enough to satiate his brother's curiosity. on the high probability that it isn't, darach continues. ❝ i know ― i know that i left him down there to rot in that ass-backwards republic. way to pay back the feckin' favor, aye? i know that i've heard feck all about him since until his name shows up on your desk today. why is his name on your desk, finn? what do you want with him? ❞

[murdcrofcrows]

"you can wipe that smug look off your damn face too, fish." she pointed at him as she got the blackberry brandy. frankie knew damn well that judah would be way too happy about her saying their points of view lined up. meanwhile, she was slightly nauseated at the thought. that was a dangerous slope to go down, only satan knows where it would take her and she has been on the ( somewhat ) straight and narrow for years now. if they had met when she was still in her twenties, they'd be having a whole different discussion.

frankie nodded along with his update on his brother. "can't imagine a brain like that would do well with any of the major hallucinogens. he seems like he thinks in pictures and i have always wondered what that was like." closest she ever got to spatial reasoning was thinking in equations but otherwise it was all words and language that formed the images in her head. artists were good at that type of thing and frankie's scientific brain just didn't get creative in that way. "glad he's doing better, i've been seeing him a lot more lately. think he's sweet on one of my employees." as if she didn't treat them all as family. plus she wanted to get off the topics of bugs and violence.

just in time, too, because now it's frankie with a smug look of pride on her face hearing his review of her latest creation. "that," she plucked his glass up to refill it. "is blackberry brandy, i ain't given it a special name yet but it's a mad scientist exclusive. also remind me to kick him in the shin next time i see him, puttin' that curse on me." she set the glass down in front of him. everyone knows just how much she loved listening to judah fisher yap into the wind. frankie downed her glass and nearly spit it out when he claimed to be dating someone, that would be a waste of good alcohol. "five months!?" she coughed and shook her head. "ain't no fuckin' someone's been able to tolerate you that long. is she deaf or blind?"

❝ oh, you ain't took a stance on none of it, huh? ❞ judah rolls his eyes so hard they could've just as easily rolled right on out of his head and onto the bar top between them as he drops into a stool. that's bullshit if he's ever heard it. she may have a business to run and a level of professionalism to uphold ― he gets it, even if he doesn't abide by the same rules of holding his tongue ― but he knows she's got an opinion, and damn if he's just gonna except that answer at face value.

❝ first of all, fuck you, i ain't got no goddamn stank. ❞ and okay, maybe that's not entirely true, but his hygiene has improved vastly since dixie has come into his life, and ain't a damn thing he can do about the scent of gasoline and motor oil sticking to his clothes. judah moves right along as if he'd not just been insulted. ❝but you're tellin' me folks come in and start druggin' your community, tryin' to lure 'em into the woods and shit, and you ain't got not a single thought or feelin' on it? ❞

he shuts his mouth quickly at the threat she shoots his way, but knowing he was right? hearing her admit that she agrees with him? judah looks like the cat that got the cream, all mischievous eyes and self-satisfied grins. ❝ oh, don't go gettin' outta hand now, frank, i ain't tellin' nobody. your secret's safe with me. ❞ there's a wink then before he pulls his arms back, not wanting to push his luck too far before she's even poured him a drink. he sobers up a bit, anyhow, at the mention of his brother.

❝ he ain't doin' too bad now, ❞ judah answers with a sigh, leaning back a bit. ❝ wicked shit, that vision dust, but it don't last long. had him real fucked up, though, and even after ... big on autonomy, he is, don't want nobody takin' away his faculties ― not that i can blame him, who fuckin' would? ― and he was already paranoid as shit just gettin' outta the house before he got drugged just walkin' around. ❞ he picks up the glass when it's offered, eyeing the liquid within before looking back up at frankie. ❝ i tell you what, i come across any of them bug-lovin' fucks, it's on sight. nobody fucks with jo. ❞

he punctuates the promise by downing the liquor, whistling as he drops the glass back onto the counter. ❝ fuck is that, huh? tastes like a goddamn pie. ❞ judah licks his lips before shaking his head. ❝ but also, i been up his ass since he came home talkin' 'bout he was seein' shit, and he's the one kicked me out 'cause he was sick of hearin' me yap. ❞ an indignant look flits across his features and he sucks his tongue against the back of his teeth as he leans in again. ❝ and i'll have you know i been got me a lady, somethin' like five months now, so you go on an' tell me how those words taste when you're eatin' em. ❞

[murdcrofcrows]

who: @exmcrtis ( wren ) where: outside red line diner

the antidote for cicada secretions coming out didn't do much for slowing emil's job down. if anything it made him feel like a glorified security guard the way he was having to escort people to the nearest afterglow facility. all the while he still had to make sure people weren't using the opportunity of distraction to break what little law and order they had established. he finally got a day off, though which was a good thing because he needed the extra few hours of sleep and an opportunity to sit down for a meal with his sister.

emil pulled up to the diner on his motorcycle, parked, and took his helmet off. he could see wren already waiting outside for him and he offered a smile as he hung his helmet on one of the handlebars. "i was starting to think i'd never get to see you for longer than five minutes at a time again." which was an exaggeration but over seven days of twelve hour shifts makes it seem like forever. "hola, hermana, how are you? hopefully not climbing anymore trees during bug-a-geddon." he moved in to give her a quick hug before starting toward the diner doors.

[murdcrofcrows]

This is a sickening side profile my god

[murdcrofcrows]

glowing blue eyes rolled at her insistence, he had a hard time believing his life could ever be boring. hell, he wouldn't mind if it was boring once and awhile, maybe he'd actually get a full night's sleep. truthfully he wouldn't know what to do with himself if shit got boring. "think we ought t' start gettin' the public backin' us versus those mindless zombies," finn took a long pull from the drink what was dropped off and looked over to scarlett with an eyebrow raised to get a gauge on what she thought about the suggestion. "as much as i hate t' admit it, i think together we could get these people puttin' their faith in us and not these feckin' cultists or the governing idiots either."

even though afterglow lined the pockets of the shamrocks well, that was not the same as supporting them. finn never had time for rich fuck or people who thought they were better than others just because of how much money or shit they had. if you're better than someone you need to prove it, like he had time and time again. he'd agree scarlett had, too, however he wouldn't be caught dead saying it out loud in front of her. "i don't think the zealots need to be gettin' away wit' their shite no more, neither. someone from that lot needs to answer for all the chaos they put regular people through." it wasn't like the peacekeepers were going to do shit about it.

SCARLETT HERSELF IS MOST certainly gifted in the art of human conversation, a charmer in many senses of the word. however, the art of chivalry, in certain aspects at least -- was something she was far less experienced in. however, perhaps it was their lack on the topic that caused scarlett and finn to possess an unspoken understanding of each other. there was no need for a mask. nothing more than a genuine wish for the best for their own people -- no matter the cost. and yet, the knowledge that in uncertain times, they were better together than at each other's throats. the thought now makes her stomach turn in nausea. what was this -- a children's television show? where they gather around the campfire and compliment each other until they're faces are redder then the embers? no. this was real fucking life. scarlett herself returns the smarmy grin as she adjusts, knowing damn well that the both of them have at least one similar card to play -- their own self-interest, even if they differed.

" aw, admit it. you know you were bored without me. " the president chides, chin coming to rest against her palm as she adjusts. no matter if it was because she kept things interesting or that she drove him crazy, she didn't care. it may have ruffled many a feather -- the manner which she did as she pleased, but her own satisfaction was always her endgame. she had thought about it, the eaa. her parents, who would have sold her out to the army as long as it kept them happy. " ah, smart boy. afterglow and their mindless zombies put everyone in danger, again! that's a headline about as surprising as the sky being blue. " scarlett nods in gratitude as their drinks are placed in front of her ( a double whiskey -- the one thing in her life she's never strayed very far from ) before her face contorts ever so slightly at his jab. " what we think, is that we don't want any more fuckin' surprises. at least for my people, we've done nothin' but go about our business. " she takes her first sip, before she continues. " as for those.... bugman people... i'll be honest, tryin' to understand how they believe all that gives me a fuckin' headache. sure that dust would too. " placing the glass down, she turns to him once more. " where's your head at? "

[murdcrofcrows]

as much as neve liked to think she was spontaneous and possibly even adventurous, deep down she knew she was a creature of habit. her life prior to living in burnington had her confined to small areas if not just a singular room, so in the grand scheme of things she was quite adventurous in comparison. who in their right mind would know to make such a thing? hell's gate was massive, easy to get lost in and even easier to blend in and be overlooked. neve much preferred to be wallpaper, observing the crowd from a perch and having small conversations with shamrocks or clientele who happened to notice her.

that night she chose not to sit, but rather lean against the wall and stare at those dancing to the beat of the dj while others slipped off to booths with information brokers. she briefly wondered if one of them could give her the passwords past the blocks in the afterglow servers preventing her from getting to the schematics of the ring around her brother's neck. she was not a good cyber walker, that was his area and yet, it was up to her to find them anyways because she was unwilling to let anyone else know what she was planning. not yet anyways. for now she was hoping to find anything to distract her brain so she could think clearly again.

and just when she was about to fall down another spiral of ideas she was broken away from them by a tap on her shoulder. "um," but she stopped trying to interject and started to pay close attention to what the other woman was trying to say to her instead. a blush creeped up on her cheeks, eyes blinking rapidly after she realized she'd been staring and not talking, mouth parted.

"i um, thank you? i mean, hi i'm neve. i like your hair, too." the freedom in her appearance is what neve loved the most. "i like drinks." she pushed her hair behind her shoulder. "do you, um, come here a lot?"

where : hell's gate ・ who : @murdcrofcrows ( neve )

People generally don't make much of an impression upon Thess. Too guarded to let people come close or to let anything they do or say get to her, much of Thess interactions with others she lets pass by her without any change in her course or stubborn ways. Stepping into Hell's Gate, she's nervous this time, and in the back of her mind, she's kind of annoyed about it. It's so stupid, the way her heart rate elevates at the possibility of seeing the other woman again—and maybe even talk to her this time.

Now, don't get too ambitious, Thessaly.

Taking a deep breath as she heads up to the bar, she steels her mind and rolls her shoulders to try to feel normal, shoving the anxiety pitted in her stomach down. Just a drink, just some alcohol, do what Frankie said, have a life. Socialising isn't exactly something she's looking forward to on a night off—one her boss had forced upon her, no less—but Thess knows that if Frankie comes 'round to ask her what she did that week, she had something to tell her and not just 'work, sleep, eat, repeat'.

Thess has almost reached the bar when her heart rate sky-rockets at the sight of sleek, blonde hair, eyes locking in, freezing as she stands there. I look like shit, don't I? Quickly glancing down at herself, Thess winces at the way one of Skylar's old jeans hangs low around her hips, being held up by a belt tightly pulled to skin and the old, worn t-shirt that she's had since she was seventeen that really has no business being in her closet anymore but continuously finds itself onto her body. Pulling fingers through her hair, Thess is forced to pull them out where they'd gone in, starting to tangle in the more coarse hair near her scalp.

You're just a walking bomb set to self-destruct, aren't you? How long have you been standing there now?

Another deep breath fills her lungs and Thess thinks to just walk past her, get a drink, and go home. No reason why she ought to inflict her mental mayhem on this woman. That's the intention anyway, but her body and her stupid fucking mouth seem to have second thoughts on that plan. Thess manages to pass two steps beyond her before she turns and taps her shoulder.

"Hey, um, you l— If you want. A drink, I mean. On me." There's a long pause. "I'm Thess, sorry. I like your hair."