vaqro
vaqro
* 𝒗𝒂𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒐 ,
47 posts
𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡.
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vaqro · 16 days ago
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“In early youth, as we contemplate our coming life, we are like children in a theatre before the curtain is raised, sitting there in high spirits and eagerly waiting for the play to begin. It is a blessing that we do not know what is really going to happen. Could we foresee it, there are times when children might seem like innocent prisoners, condemned, not to death, but to life, and as yet all unconscious of what their sentence means.”
— Arthur Schopenhauer, “On the Sufferings of the World”, Parerga and Paralipomena
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vaqro · 19 days ago
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i am home. time to be a public menace.
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vaqro · 20 days ago
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#VAQRO   :     AN   EXTREMELY   SELECTIVE   INDIE   BLOG   FOR    COLE   CASSIDY,    FROM   OVERWATCH   .         HEAVILY       HEADCANON       BASED       /       ORIGINAL       LORE        &        BLIZZARD   CRITICAL   .    TRIGGERING   CONTENT   IS   PRESENT,    CAUTION   IS   ADVISED   .    by   oyin    (   ²⁵⁺   ˑ   ˣᵉ    /    ᵗʰᵉʸ   ˑ   ᵍᵐᵗ   ⁻   ³   ).    EST.   2017    /    REV.   2025   . 
AFFILIATED   CANON   :    AMÉLIE   J.   LACROIX   /   WIDOWMAKER   .    ANGELA   ZIEGLER   .    ELIZABET   HERNÁNDEZ   .    SOMBRA   .
MEDIA   INSPIRATION   :    RANGO   (   2012   )   .    COWBOY   BEBOP   (   1998   )   .    BLADE   RUNNER   (   1982   )   .    RED   DEAD   REDEMPTION   (   2010   -2018   )   .    BROKEBACK   MOUNTAIN   (   2005   )   .    MY   OWN   PRIVATE   IDAHO   (   1991   )   .    THE   DOLLARS   TRILOGY   (   1964   -   1996   )   .    THE   HARDER   THEY   FALL   (   2021   )   .    JAMES   BOND   FILMOGRAPHY   (   1962   -   …   )   .    KNIVES   OUT   &   GLASS   ONION   (   2019   /   2022   )   .   STRANGE   WAY   OF   LIFE   (   2023   )   .
LINKS     :    CARRD .    SIDEBLOG .    PINTEREST .    PLAYLIST .    HEADCANONS .    PROMPTS .    HELP PALESTINE .
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vaqro · 21 days ago
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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WHO ARE YOU IN THIS HAUNTED HOUSE STORY?
THE FATHER :ㅤㅤyou’ve made mistakes.ㅤㅤyou see them play out on an endless and nauseating loop whenever you close your eyes.ㅤㅤif you could just interfere !ㅤㅤsomehow pass on what knowledge you now possess to the person you were then.ㅤㅤof course,ㅤnow you know,ㅤyou know,ㅤYOU KNOW.ㅤㅤbut what’s done is done,ㅤleaving you behind,ㅤholding the shards of what you broke in your bleeding and calloused hands.ㅤㅤthey look at you differently now,ㅤso you smile bigger and hope it reaches your eyes.ㅤㅤit’s okay though,ㅤbecause you’re going to make it better,ㅤyou have to.ㅤㅤand god knows you can’t be wrong again,ㅤyou simply won’t allow it,ㅤcan’t even entertain the idea.ㅤㅤwhen doubt creeps in,ㅤyou’ll stamp it down.ㅤㅤwhen things begin to go wrong,ㅤyou’ll turn a blind eye.ㅤㅤthere isn’t room inside of you to hold any more wrong.
tagged by : stolen from @divinitywept . tagging : @deathsighs , @pravica , @76es , @femtaile , @vanctua .
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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why do you hurt?
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YOU SWALLOW PAIN & FOLD AROUND IT :ㅤㅤyou have always hurt.ㅤㅤyou hold it carefully,ㅤand twisted in such a way that other people don't have to see it.ㅤㅤyou don't choke on it.ㅤㅤyou don't drown.ㅤㅤyou just have it,ㅤthe way some people have freckles,ㅤthis is a thing that lives in your bones.ㅤㅤyou fold instead of fighting because you know how to make yourself small,ㅤtuck away the places where they have clawed at,ㅤswallow the bruises so you seem clean.ㅤㅤnobody needs to see it.ㅤㅤyou will live through this on your own.ㅤㅤyou know what you need,ㅤand relief isn't it.ㅤㅤthis doesn't mean you cannot reach out --- it means it is not in your nature to do so.ㅤㅤyou should.ㅤㅤhiding does not mean you won't be seen.
tagged by : stolen from @tlacehualli .
tagging : @chronal-anomaly , @travilleur , @masteredfear , @femtaile .
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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[hands] [other]
SEND ME A WORD AND LEARN ABOUT MY MUSE'S PHYSICAL FEATURES . also sent by @veqva .
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cole cassidy has proportionate hands to a man of his general stature and lifestyle. his hands were never either too big or too small. his fingers are long, each knuckle knobbly and scarred and calloused, but they are in no way thin. the skin of his palms is often sweaty, especially when he wears gloves of any kind [ and he does so as to keep his fingerprints off his gun and the gunpowder off his fingers ]; skin is dry otherwise, filled with scars from previous scruffles and the handling of sharp objects in his youth.
his nails are short and gently curved, but he doesn’t manicure them otherwise; the undersides are clean from debris and dirt, but the nail beds are ruined by his anxiety driven habit of pulling at his cuticles. the only moments he ever cares about the state of his nails are when he needs to be either jerome mcginnis, the tradesman of a nice canadian family, or jeffrey wayne, the young socialite adopted by a rich family — both would be expected by society to have have well kept nails and their hands soft. 
his hands also shake from time to time — never when holding a gun or any kind of weapon, but the alcohol and the cigars from a young age coupled with insomnia make them tremble at times. it used to be much worse when he was young [ pre - deadlock, especially, but wholly pre - overwatch ], the anemia and irregular meals causing a depletion in blood oxygenation and the impression of cold under his skin. he is also beginning to notice small signs of osteoarthritis in some knuckles and his wrist [ along some other places in his body ].
it is interesting to note that for all he can change himself in name and appearance as to both survive and work, his hands are one aspect he can not be so easily modified. he carries his stories there, all of them. these are the fingers which joel morricone uses to write his articles and columns, which jeff and jerome shake hands, the same ones cole cassidy and maverick logann kill people. these are the hands that choked his sister, and there is no running away from that. his hands tell the truth his mouth can not speak.
and since we are already on the topic of his hands, we may as well speak of his prosthetic arm. 
for years, cassidy has been secretly assigned to spy on doctor mina liao and her classified project, as to ensure neither were compromised — be it against liao or in favor of a second omnic crisis. spending so much time together, mina and cole developed a secret romance. after the catastrophe that was the mission in rialto, cassidy was sent to oslo more and more often — going weeks and sometimes months by mina’s side in and out of the watchpoint. it coincided that, in one of these visits to the watchpoint, talon invaded and set off a bomb in the building, much like what happened in rome. this time, cassidy wasn’t so lucky as to not be in the direct blast zone of the explosion. debris and equipment pinned him down, and his rescue’s success depended on his arm being amputated in the field. 
afterward, he stayed under the care, among others [ albeit in dwindling numbers at this point ], of doctor angela ziegler / @veqva, who oversaw his recovery. a second amputation was needed for the fitting of a new arm. he went through the initial steps of physiotherapy in zurich but didn’t stay for the final fitting for the arm overwatch had developed for him. lost and grieving, cassidy made his way back to the deadlock gorge. eventually, with ashe’s help and knowledge in cyber mechanics, he designed and found a trustworthy medic for the procedure.
ashe could have arranged a clinic or hospital for the procedure, but their status as outlaws made things a lot more difficult. factored in as well the fact cassidy could be recognized in some way as the blackwatch agent involved in the fallout in italy years prior [ it also matters that cole was not in the mindset to accept things without pain. he opted for a riskier procedure because it was less of a risk to ashe and deadlock, and because it would hurt a lot ]. so they recurred to a ripperdoc, a type of medic able to perform away from the scrutiny of legal establishments, at a better price. it is not always guaranteed a painless procedure, and complications may rise. as a consequence, his remaining limb is riddled with scars and suffers from phantom pain on occasion. it is not only worse because the initial port and cyberization were made by overwatch.
the result is a stylized model that is unique to him. chrome plates with a clunkier appearance than the usual streamlines and elegance found in other prosthetics. the arm is slightly bigger than his flesh hand due to an error in calculating, but it maintains the same overall level of productivity. the skull is an aesthetic touch, bright blue eyes powered by an internal battery.
the limb is also designed with boosted strength, speed, and resilience. it never grows tired, and it doesn’t feel pain — while keeping tactile prowess. it is able lot sustain a lot more damage than flesh and bone, the titanium skeleton under the chrome plates strong enough to bash someone’s head in. therefore, while having no built-in weapons or mechanisms, the prosthesis is still quite a force to be reckoned with.
a great advantage of his arm compared to common models is the power injection. while yes, the prosthetic is connecto him through cybernetic nanites, as courtesy of overwatch, the limb itself is motorized. it counts with hydraulic mechanisms and servos that run near silently but provide him all the necessary fine motor skills in his elbow, wrist, and each finger. which means he is relatively safe from EMP blasts and other types of electrical outages. 
not to say cassidy doesn’t have fiber and plastic models. they are crucial when he needs to not be recognized. he has a simple plastic white arm and the same one in red. he also counts on a very fragile, rarely used model that is covered in synthetic skin. it is nearly impossible to distinguish between his two and when he is wearing it. he bought the first two models under an alias, and they were relatively easy to install and switch out despite the lack of cross compatibility between them and his original prosthesis. the synthskin arm he bought after a large bounty, in japan. it is relatively new and, again, not used often.
the mismatched weight, however, often affects his gait. his left hip and shoulder are the most affected, which also affects his already damaged knee in attempts of compensation. when able, especially now that he is once more with overwatch, he showers and sleeps with it off so as to not exacerbate his joints further.
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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you  know  she  is  there.ㅤㅤwatching  you  through  grates  and  holes,ㅤup  on  rooftops,ㅤimmersed  in  the  shadows.ㅤㅤyou  can  feel  her  gaze  on  you,ㅤpertinent,ㅤas  the  two  of  you  play  predator  and  prey;  you,ㅤchanging  your  faces  and  mingling  with  crowds    —    but  only  half  the  time,ㅤand  therein  lies  the  problem,ㅤall  the  times  you  don’t  know  where  she  is,ㅤif  she  is  simply  looking  or  if  her  rifle  is  pointed  to  your  head.ㅤㅤnot  a  new  occurrence,ㅤwhat  with  the  price  on  your  life  being  as  high  as  it  is,ㅤBUT  THIS  IS  DIFFERENT.
YOU  KNOW  WHO  SHE  IS.ㅤㅤthis  poltergeist  who  haunts  your  heels,ㅤbreathes  down  your  neck.ㅤㅤyou  have  hunted  her  for  nearly  five  years  now    —    single-minded  focus  on  avenging  your  losses;  a  tale  of  revenge:  you,ㅤthe  hero  fallen  from  grace,ㅤand  she,ㅤle  fantome  bourreau  —  taking  the  role  of  your  damnation.ㅤㅤthe  stage  is  set,ㅤthe  audience  thirsts  for  adventure…
THE  PLOT  TWISTS:  the  one  you  love  is  the  one  you  kill.ㅤㅤtoo  close  range  to  use  her  rifle  —  that  alone  isn’t  your  advantage,ㅤbut  the  years  training  with  genji  and  your  own  reinforced  limb  brought  you  some  expertise.ㅤㅤa  bullet  to  her  side,ㅤa  broken  visor,ㅤpieces  of  the  puzzle  falling  into  place.ㅤㅤthe  eyes  of  amélie  guillard  look  back  at  you.
you  both  escaped  from  that  encounter.ㅤㅤnone  unscathed,ㅤyou  are  better  off  than  she.ㅤㅤand  now,ㅤwith  the  secret  unveiled,ㅤyou  wonder  how  you  could  not  have  seen  it  before  ?ㅤ  her  kidnapping,ㅤgerárd’s  murder,ㅤthe  ghost’s  re  /  appearance.ㅤㅤwhat  ana  saw  that  had  her  hesitate.ㅤㅤand  why  jack  was  so  unwilling  to  divulge  any  details  regarding  her  death.ㅤㅤ
[  they  removed  her  legs.ㅤㅤas  you  tape  your  ribs  in  a  mingy  bathroom  stall,ㅤcigar  dangling  from  between  gritted  teeth,ㅤit  is  all  you  can  think  of  :  they  removed  her  legs.ㅤㅤthose  strong,ㅤtoned,ㅤgracious  legs  that  had  carried  her  to  her  dreams    —    and  they  took  it.ㅤㅤwhen  you  exit  the  bar,ㅤhaving  drank  more  than  enough  to  ease  the  pain,ㅤyou  leave  some  compensation  for  the  broken  tiles  and  the  peculiar  fist-shaped  imprint  found  on  the  plastic  door.ㅤㅤ]
this  time when  she  comes,ㅤLA  FANTASMA  DE  TU  VENGANZA,ㅤyou  are  ready.ㅤㅤyou  find  yourself  looking  at  her  bathed  in  the  setting  sun,ㅤin  the  colors  of  the  desert    —    a  face  you  know,ㅤbut  don’t  recognize.ㅤㅤpeacekeeper  is  trained  on  her  the  moment  the  creature  slips  into  the  light,ㅤwhite  and  silver  muzzle  aimed  to  her  throatㅤ[      only  takes  one  bullet…      ].
you  could  make  an  ending  of  it  now,ㅤtake  your  revenge  and  be  done  with  it  all.ㅤㅤdo  you  want  to  hurt  who  hurt  you  —
GO  AHEAD,ㅤHERO.ㅤㅤPULL  THE  TRIGGER.
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you  don’t.ㅤㅤ
you  don’t  lower  your  weapon  either,ㅤand  your  finger  remains  on  the  trigger.ㅤㅤBUT  YOU  CANNOT  BRING  YOURSELF  TO  SHOOT  NOW.ㅤㅤinstead,ㅤyou  listen.ㅤㅤa  voice  you  know  but  in  a  way  you  don’t  recognize.ㅤㅤyour  eyes  find  hers;  unwavering,ㅤdisdainful,ㅤdead  ---
when  was  the  last  time  you  slept,ㅤami  ?ㅤ  the  comfort  of  wool  lending  itself  onto  her  shoulders,ㅤgentle  hands  guiding  her  from  gerárd’s  bedside.ㅤㅤyou,ㅤdead  on  your  feet  yourself.ㅤㅤc’mon  now,ㅤlike  a  --  a  pair  de  deux,ㅤain’t  it  ?ㅤ  par  de  dos.ㅤㅤsounds  about  right.
the  shape  of  amélie  guillard,ㅤthe  essence  of  someone  /  something  else.ㅤㅤhow  many  of  your  friends  are  still  there  ?ㅤ  what  did  they  do  to  turn  the  dancer  into  the  killer  ?ㅤ  does  she  even,ㅤtruly,ㅤrecognize  you  for  who  you  are  ?ㅤㅤ[      you  would  not  blame  her  for  saying  no  on  that  one.ㅤㅤsometimes  you  look  at  yourself  in  the  mirror  and  you  fail  at  that  as  well.ㅤㅤespecially  now,ㅤalone  and  hunting.ㅤㅤusing  the  butchering  of  others  to  make  a  living.ㅤㅤSHE’S  NEVER  SEEN  THIS  ASPECT  OF  YOU,ㅤso  no  hard  feelings  for  being  a  stranger  to  your  best  friend      ]
“on  pourrait  dire  que  j'étais  triste,ㅤoui.”ㅤyou  smirk.ㅤㅤthe  french  is  a  test,ㅤbut  not  of  her  abilities  to  speak  it ;  it  took  him  some  time,ㅤbut  he  learned  her  language    —    though  the  accent  is  still  awfully  cowboy.ㅤㅤa  little  southern  just  like  yours,ㅤmon  ami.ㅤㅤhe  always  gave  her  a  lot  less  than  what  he  truly  understood,ㅤtoo.ㅤㅤto  make  her  laugh,ㅤto  ensure  she  felt  safe  confessing  things  to  the  wind.ㅤㅤit  is  still  a  diversion,ㅤthough.ㅤㅤa  simple  answer  to  the  hard  question.ㅤㅤyour  aim  remains  true,ㅤbut  in  your  mind  -  -  -  
you  are  hiding  in  the  cupboard  under  the  sink.ㅤㅤthe  house  is  silent.ㅤㅤmagdalena  has  stopped  screaming,ㅤthe  living  room  eerie  quiet.ㅤㅤbut  you  cannot  go  and  check  for  her.ㅤㅤyou  cannot  make  yourself  move  from  the  cupboard.ㅤㅤit  feels  a  lot  like  when  cuazo  left  to  join  overwatch,ㅤthis  same  weight  on  your  chest  keeping  you  from  calling  out  from  the  top  of  the  staircase,ㅤfrom  grabbing  his  hand  —  but  also  a  thousands  time  worse.ㅤㅤyour  face  hurts  where  one  of  those  men  struck  you  hard,ㅤyour  right  eye  refuses  to  open.ㅤㅤunder  your  eyelid,ㅤyour  mother’s  cleaved  throat  and  your  father’s  body  littered  with  shots.ㅤㅤ isa  managed  to  drag  herself  with  you  into  the  cupboard.ㅤㅤshe’d  managed  to  escape  and  drag  you  along,ㅤthe  men  firing  at  you  both.ㅤㅤyour  smaller  body  escaped  into  the  cubicle  with  ease,ㅤbut  isa  wasn’t  so  lucky.ㅤㅤyou  cannot  see  what  happened,ㅤbut  you  can  hear  her  shuddering  breaths,ㅤthundering  loud  and  wet  as  spring  rain.ㅤㅤyou  have  a  hand  pressed  to  her  chest  and  it  feels  wet,ㅤbut  you  remember  pa  saying  you  always  need  to  keep  pressure  on  a  wound,ㅤso  you  don’t  let  go.ㅤㅤher  hand,ㅤalso  wet,ㅤis  weak  and  cold  over  your  own. noise.ㅤㅤfootsteps  coming  closer,ㅤchains  dragging  —  the  men  wear  chains  on  their  belts,ㅤacross  their  bodies,ㅤthey  walk  and  it  makes  noise.ㅤㅤyour  heartbeat  gallops  in  your  chest,ㅤthe  sound  so  loud  it  almost  drowns  the  steps,ㅤbut  he  is  focused  on  it.ㅤㅤstep.ㅤㅤstep.ㅤㅤstop.ㅤㅤisa  gasps  —  your  hand  on  her  chest  bearing  down  hard.ㅤㅤturn.ㅤㅤstep.ㅤㅤstep.ㅤㅤstepping  closer.ㅤㅤyour  other  hand  moves,ㅤcovers  your  sister’s  face.ㅤㅤshe  tenses,ㅤyour  legs  on  either  side  of  her.ㅤㅤstep  step  step.ㅤㅤstop.ㅤㅤright  by  the  cupboard.ㅤㅤyou  stop  your  own  breathing.ㅤㅤten  seconds.ㅤㅤtwenty.ㅤㅤisa’s  hand  goes  lax  on  yours.ㅤㅤturn.ㅤㅤdrag.ㅤㅤstep.ㅤㅤstep.ㅤㅤstepping  away. you  remove  your  hand  from  your  sister’s  face.ㅤㅤyou  nudge  her.ㅤㅤshe  doesn’t  move.ㅤㅤyou  push  her  gently  and  she  does  not  move.ㅤㅤshe  is  not  breathing,ㅤshe  is  not… [ㅤyou  spend  another  eight  hours  in  that  cupboard,ㅤyour  sister’s  body  on  top  of  you.ㅤ]
the  word  returns  to  you  through  thick  fog,ㅤyour  own  voice  now  also  alien  to  your  own  ears.ㅤㅤ“ i  imagine  her  first, ”ㅤand  you  are  thankful  for  la  fantasma’s  own  wording,ㅤfor  it  helps  you  better  understand  and  how  to  better  frame  the  dissonance  in  your  mind  —  doesn’t  help  with  grounding  yourself.
ㅤㅤso  lemme  get  this  right.ㅤㅤyou  got  odette,ㅤshe  is  a  real  sweetheart  but  a  bit  naive.ㅤㅤand  you  got  odile,ㅤwho  is  a  major  bitch.ㅤㅤcan  work  with  that.
“ i  imagine  her  first, ”ㅤyou  repeat  yourself.ㅤㅤstay  in  the  present  or  you  die.ㅤㅤyour  grip  on  the  gun  hasn’t  wavered,ㅤbut  you  tighten  it  nonethelessㅤ[      grounding  yourself  with  the  weight  of  it  on  your  hand      ].ㅤㅤ“ was  gerard.ㅤㅤmatar  es  fácil  después  de  la  primera  víctima.ㅤㅤ  ella  te  perdonó  ?ㅤ    debo  hacer  lo  mismo  ?ㅤ”
. //              𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 / 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘭𝘺; you are not perceived unless you want to be, following him a bit each day; memorizing mannerisms, habits, the places he freqeuents. Mandatory, all of it, because he has seen your face, parts of it, & you promised her not to terminate then & there. So you study him instead / learn to avoid his every step. Close by but never in periphery when he shoulders his way through a crowd; from a distance when he puts on a different mask & stares holes into the sky. He acts, you dissect. Back & forth : a known variation, a hunters' pas de deux.
all the while you remain unseen / unheard / unknown. ⸻ you gave your word. You owe her, non? Given how much pain you have been causing twin consciousness lately. Give & take; it is the least you can do : internally state he would not end up in those crosshairs of yours. For now, anyway.
If anything, you ought to at least respect his tenacity / misplaced, manic ambition once sprung onto you with most murderous of intents; acknowledge the fact that he landed a hit & lived to tell the tale [ but relaying the story he will not. It is a secret he will take to the grave. After all, your ilk does not boast : recalls the names, the places, the faces, sometimes all of it. But the exact number, you forget. Taking true pride in it, you do not ]. ⸻ takes one to know one : a killer, purveyor of death & the macabre. Difference being, he is righteous about it. Men look at him & see a hero. Men look at you & see a monster. You do not care, he does.
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One evening you make your presence known; to gain knowledge you need. Therefore resting in the shadow spilling from between sun-bleached architecture, creature of quietude & night as you are. The corpse blue to rust-red; you represent apparent contrasts on the superfluous surface, that which will one day rot away & wither, whilst deep down too alike. ⸻ a subjective observation. You pay it no true heed but rather scowl at him with less dulled-down disdain because of it instead.
" were you sad? " ━          cue a pause / a glare as keen as question's implication; there is distance between either, there always will be. There should not be according to recollection but there persistently is [ emotional disconnect; she digs nails into your shoulder & once again begs you to let him know she is here. You won't. It would not make a difference. Repeat it, again & again, maybe Odette will one day understand. Has to, anyway. It will not change anything. Makes it harder for either, even. You cannot separate what has been blended, after all. && she will howl her quiet little agonies because of it / curse you, hate you, regardless. Look at you with such misery brimming in hazel eyes you cannot help but have jaw set to alleviate the pressure 'felt' : in your chest / this deadened heart ━ unavoidable. Well, how much pain have you been causing her lately? ].
Donner et prendre. Tu comprends, Odette?
Hard glare continues to study his : this amber-glint dyed crimson in the dying sun despite the deep-drawn rim of dust-coated hat. There is turmoil in them, fierceness, too. You have traced his steps well enough to make such a statement : there always is. As if lost, forlorn; a shell of a man. Measure how parasitically his guilt has festered then; how viciously & violently it chokes his heart. " ━ after you took your first life? "
she was.
Apathy & impassivity dwell / bleed into accent's melody & twist the familiar into something uncanny. That too something that will never change. No matter how tightly she wraps her arms around your throat; demanding, ever demanding. To be heard, to be seen. Ignore her, will you? : you have done your part. He is alive because you went to Angela instead. You have a frayed, miscolored scar sprawled across the lower bows of your rib-cage to show for it. You spared him then as much as he might be sparing you another bullet now. For her sake & no one else's.
No aggression then, for the time being. You do not move / intend to cast yourself into the abyss yonder should he shoot. He is fast, you are faster; half-shadow, more silhouette than person, with artificial eyes alight & haggard features casting concavities across features that seem iron / sickly / spent. You do not need your visor to sketch out CASSIDY clearly. You have come to realize you never do. ⸻ there is a picture burnt into the back of your skull; a memory. Hundreds maybe. She makes sure of it. As if it means anything; as if you care. " Do not lie to me. Les personnes qui partagent les mêmes idées devraient être honnêtes les unes envers les autres, tu ne crois pas? "
surprise starter. @vaqro
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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which tragic death would you suffer?
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THE UNFINISHED :ㅤㅤyou die,ㅤhand outstretched towards the sky,ㅤas if to say I'M NOT DONE YET. ㅤㅤthere are so many things you still have to do,ㅤso many goals you still have to reach.ㅤㅤyou've spent your entire life working towards them,ㅤand doing nothing else,ㅤonly to die before knowing what accomplishment feels like.ㅤㅤthey'll say your death was a pity,ㅤthat you had such a bright future ahead of you.ㅤㅤit is one you'll never get to see.
tagged by : @femtaile .
tagging : @tlacehualli , @yunhuntress , @deadlockin , @pravica , @chronal-anomaly .
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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tags for my dear @femtaile :
* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ femtaile : amélie. ❫     ››› ㅤ you remind me that it's such a wonderful thing to love  .
* ⊹ 。*´ ❪ femtaile : widowmaker. ❫     ››› ㅤ got no human grace﹐ vous êtes des yeux sans visage  .
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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what does your heart look like?
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AN OPEN DOOR, A BURNING HEARTH :ㅤㅤyour chest is wide open,ㅤand your heart is a home.ㅤㅤothers are welcomed in readily and asked to stay.ㅤㅤyou are comfort and love,ㅤeverything you were never given but so desperately want to provide for others.ㅤㅤyou have built this welcoming hearth with your own two hands and won’t see anyone else left out in the cold.ㅤㅤbe careful to not burn yourself out trying to keep everyone else warm.
tagged by : @femtaile .
tagging : @offenseonly , @freedomsbounty , @76es , @deathmarked .
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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cole is such a good cook of simple foods, though. he makes stews, soups, bread, pie. he can make some noodles, grill some tofu, and chorizo to go with toast. he may even try to cook something from a friend's childhood if he finds a recipe. but it's all simple. family cooking. hearty breakfast and dinner. a nice cup of coffee to go with it. interesting too is the fact he rarely does it for himself. alone, he barely bothers with some bread and coffee when he doesn't opt for some whiskey and calls it a day. or he needs to be on the move so he lives off whatever he can find on diners and stops.
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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isn't  she  an  excited  little  thing ?ㅤㅤwith  her  piercing  smile  and  waving  hands  in  hot  pink  and  cyan.ㅤㅤfrom  the  security  of  his  stetson  trim,ㅤhis  bourbon  eyes  see  it  all.ㅤㅤshe's  been  enhanced,ㅤif  not  completely  cybernized.ㅤㅤshe  is  younger  than  him,ㅤbut  not  by  much.ㅤㅤher  english  is  extremely  accented,ㅤand  her  word  choice  suggests  she  is  of  latine  descent.ㅤㅤor,ㅤat  the  very  least,ㅤhispanic  in  some  fashion.ㅤㅤher  consonants  shiver  at  the  back  of  his  mind,ㅤwhere  ghosts  like  to  murmur  when  he  isn't  drunk  enough  to  stop  dreaming.ㅤㅤbehind  her  own  quirks  and  color  scheme,ㅤshe  is  not  dissimilar  to  himself.
the  cowboy  is  unable  to  maintain  a  straight  mask.ㅤㅤWHO  ARE  YOU ?ㅤㅤwhat  have  you  done?ㅤㅤhe  wasn't  always  fond  of  remembering  the  past  after  a  certain  point.ㅤㅤarose  fully  developed  as  a  deadlock  leader ;ㅤnothing  before  that  was  noteworthy.ㅤㅤyet  here  he  is,ㅤwhisky  just  brushing  his  lips.ㅤㅤbank  robberies  and  train  thefts ;ㅤassassinations ;ㅤcovert  operations ;ㅤundercover ;ㅤreconnaissance ---
  —  yet  none  of  it  tells  you  how  flesh  yields  beneath  a  serrated  knife,ㅤhow  simple  it  is  to  rip  a  body  in  half  with  a  chainsaw,ㅤor  how  it  feels  to  butcher,ㅤclean,ㅤshatter,ㅤand  slice  until  your  elbows  are  covered  in  blood.ㅤㅤnobody  tells  you  about  how  cotton  oil  burns  your  fingertips  or  how  thorns  puncture  your  flesh.ㅤㅤ
he  doesn't  know  how  to  respond  to  her  inquiry,ㅤso  he  drinks  his  drink  and  tilts  his  head.
WHO  AM  I ?ㅤㅤI  COULD  BE  ANYONE.
"  que  lo  realmente  quieres,ㅤchica?  "ㅤ  —  ㅤhe  smirks,ㅤhis  eyes  glinting  almost  dangerously  under  the  shade  of  his  hat.ㅤㅤit  is  true  that  he  is  the  one  who  requires  her  assistance;ㅤbreaking  into  military  databanks  isn't  something  that  every  hacker  would  want  to  do,ㅤand  he  isn't  on  good  enough  terms  with  frankie  to  ask  for  this  level  of  assistance ㅤ [ㅤor  willing,ㅤbecause  the  cowboy  is  protective  of  his  mysteries,ㅤto  explain  his  reasoningsㅤ].ㅤㅤhe  is  not,ㅤhowever,ㅤhere  to  casually  reveal  his  secrets.ㅤㅤㅤ"  you  can’t  exactly  go  ‘round  asking  me  for  an  open  book  when  you  yourself  ain’t  but  a  stranger.ㅤㅤthat  don’t  seem  right,ㅤdoes  it ?  "ㅤ
he  raises  his  glass  to  the  bartender,ㅤDAME  UN  OTRO  DE  WHISKEY,ㅤAMIGO ?ㅤhis  mechanical  arm  gleaming  in  the  warm  lights  of  the  establishment.ㅤㅤeveryone  knew  better  than  to  call  the  outlaw  out  on  his  own  bounty  on  the  border  like  this.ㅤㅤit  is  more  hassle  than  it  is  worth.ㅤㅤhe  returns  his  gaze  to  her  and  adds,ㅤ"  how  ‘bout  we  re  -  roll  this  one  properly ?ㅤㅤname’s  cassidy.ㅤㅤwhat  ‘bout  yourself ?ㅤ"ㅤ  SOMBRA.ㅤㅤhe  already  knew  the  answer;ㅤthey'd  been  talking  for  weeks,ㅤbut  this  was  different.ㅤㅤshe  would  get  exactly  what  she  offered.ㅤㅤ[ㅤbut  that’s  not  your  name  either,ㅤis  it ?ㅤㅤthat’s  not  who  you  are.ㅤㅤbut  who  you  are,ㅤshe  will  never  find  out.ㅤ]
How quaint. She really does feel like she's in a spaghetti Western when the vaquero sits across from her. The edge of her lips quirks into half a smirk and she takes the fancy little margarita glass to sip from it slowly as she considers him.
It is him, of that she's sure - hard to hide from her, especially given how distinctive he is in appearance. The metal arm, for one, is hard to miss. She lets the silence stretch between them for a while, wondering if he was going to be the one to break it first, but he seems comfortable with it. Lazily, both of her arms come up as she stretches - then one arm slings over the back of the booth in one smooth motion.
"Que tal," she finally greets easily, seemingly as at ease in this dingy little corner as she would be at home in Mexico or at Talon's base itself. "Just like we agreed, no need to make things super complicated or anything. Half now, half later, and a little trade, bien?" Her finger trails around the lightly salted rim of the margarita glass and she's still looking at him with sharp and searching magenta eyes - as if his demeanor, his expression alone, could hint at the secrets that lay in his past and within his soul.
What a curious puzzle he was. She takes the margarita glass again and drains it this time, the column of her throat working to swallow the rest of the liquid. Not that there was much left. She did tend to drink a lot, so it took a lot to give her any pause. Once that was done, she sets it down and turns to him again. "I just gotta know. Perdona me, mi abuela always told me I was way too curious, but I'm sure you understand. What's a nice, upstanding citizen like you got to hide?"
Her voice has been quiet the entire time, carefully calculated to not extend between the two of them - accented but clear. A single slit eyebrow quirks and she makes it very obvious that she's looking at him up and down. As if finding him wanting. "Don't tell me. You robbed a bank. Wait..." She's smirking again, as if her own jokes were the height of comedy. "No, I got it. You had to find the outlaw what killed your paw." The fake Texan accent is atrocious, but it's part of the humor.
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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just  a  little  tail  at  the  southernmost  point  of  the  iberian  peninsula,ㅤsurrounded  by  water  on  all  three  sides.ㅤㅤGIBRALTAR    is  an  arabic  name  for  a  british  city  that  speaks  a  very  distinct  style  of  andalusian  spanish.ㅤㅤnear  the  tropics,ㅤand  the  skies  overhead  are  so  blue,ㅤrendered  even  bluer  by  the  bright  hue  of  the  mediterranean  sea  to  the  east  and  the  atlantic  ocean  to  the  west.ㅤㅤthe  watchpoint  grants  the  luxury  of  peering  out  and  viewing  as  far  as  the  horizon  extends  in  all  directions.ㅤㅤthe  wind  is  dry  but  salty  from  the  smashing  waves  against  the  rocks  and  cliffside.ㅤㅤboth  a  desert  and  a  paradise.
IT  CERTAINLY  BEATS  BEING  INSIDE ;ㅤit's  not  a  sensation  he  particularly  appreciates,ㅤespecially  because  an  important  place  like  here  is  always  teeming  with  people.ㅤㅤalthough  convenient,ㅤit  is  unquestionably  claustrophobicㅤㅤ—
[ㅤconfessing  that  one  hurt  as  much  as  ripping  nails  off  fingers  with  a  pair  of  tweezers.ㅤㅤhe  explained  to  gabriel,ㅤthrough  gritted  teeth  and  a  sweating  brow,ㅤhis  nose  broken  and  bleeding  after  a  well  deserved  punch  to  the  face,ㅤhow  he  didn't  meet  the  rendezvous  because  the  elevator  broke  downㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤand  instead  of  opening  it  and  crawling  out,ㅤgabe  had  to  remove  him  from  there  shaking  and  dissociating.ㅤㅤa  fear  most  usually  related  to  prior  traumas.ㅤㅤwhat  happened  ,ㅤmijo ?ㅤㅤthat  tone,ㅤhe  despised  at  the  time.ㅤㅤthe  way  the  man's  look  nearly  softened.ㅤㅤjefe,ㅤmy  life  happened  to  me.ㅤㅤYOUNG,ㅤBOISTEROUS,ㅤFEARLESS.ㅤㅤhow  much  of  you  is  still  that  kid ?ㅤㅤ]
—ㅤㅤso  unless  requested  of  him,ㅤby  personnel  or  schedule,ㅤhe  prefers  to  spend  his  time  somewhere  with  fewer  people  and  fresh  air.ㅤㅤtherefore,ㅤthere  are  two  places  one  can  always  find  cole  cassidy  when  in  WATCHPOINT :  GIBRALTARㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤthe  practice  range  or  the  observatory,ㅤalongside  her.
A  BOTTLE  OF  WHISKEY  FOR  HIM,ㅤa  bottle  of  wine  for  her ;ㅤsometimes  she  brings  a  picnic  blanket  for  them  to  sit  on,ㅤand  other  times  he  wraps  his  black  serape  around  her  pale  shoulders  to  keep  her  warm.ㅤㅤbeing  with  amélie  is  effortlessㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤa  friend  unconnected  to  his  life  at  first  glance.ㅤㅤher  day  is  filled  with  ballet,ㅤpaparazzi,ㅤthe  next  step  in  her  career,ㅤthe  next  gala  with  gérard,ㅤcoffee  with  gabe.ㅤㅤenjoying  sunsets  with  the  cowboy.ㅤㅤIT'S SIMPLE IN A WAY THINGS SHOULDN'T BE.ㅤㅤsimple  in  a  way  that  transports  him  back  to  the  gorge,ㅤto  after - work  downtime  with  julian,ㅤback  to  the  hills  with  his  brother.
they  met  as  young  as  twenty - three  and  nineteen  might  feel  when  bearing  the  world  on  their  shoulders.ㅤㅤgerárd's  lover,ㅤand  he  just  humble  himself.ㅤㅤbut  he  wants  to  believe  that  the  first  time  they  met  was  when  she  burst  out  laughing  at  one  of  his  genuinely  unintended  jokes.ㅤㅤthey  developed  a  strange  friendship  from  there.ㅤㅤ[ㅤwhen  did  she  become  like  a  sister  to  you ?ㅤㅤthe  meticulous  and  snarky  older - but - younger  sibling  that  you  try  not  to  think  about  too  much.ㅤㅤmagdalena  was  the  same  wayㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤare  you  replacing  her  in  your  heart,ㅤchico ?ㅤㅤare  you  seeking  another  family ?ㅤㅤWHO  SAID  YOU  WERE  WORTHY  BEING  LOVED ?ㅤ]
yet  it's  a  fresh  breath  of  air,ㅤjust  like  the  one  blowing  from  the  sea.ㅤㅤhe  has  no  illusions  about  the  work  he  undertakes  in  blackwatch.ㅤㅤespionage  and  covert  activities  neither  humane  nor  noble.ㅤㅤTHERE  WILL  BE  NO  AWARDS,ㅤformal  handshakes,ㅤor  even  a  blue  beret  in  his  future.ㅤㅤthe  cowboy  seems  unconcerned  about  any  of  itㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤespecially  the  beretㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤand  is  unsure  what  he  would  do  with  the  attention.ㅤㅤhe's  fantasized  about  being  a  heroㅤㅤ[ㅤthe  lonesome  cowboy  riding  off  into  the  sunsetㅤ],ㅤㅤbut  that's  not  how  real  life  works.ㅤㅤcole  cassidy  ought  not  to  be  on  the  same  side  as  the  angels.
[ㅤis  this  the  reason,ㅤthen ?ㅤㅤet  ça  n'a  pas  d'importance  si  tu  préfères  te  réveiller  à  côté  de  quelqu'un  d'autre  que  de  lui.ㅤㅤhe  makes  no  secret  of  how  difficult  it  is  for  him  to  study  languages  the  traditional  way,ㅤand  her  accent  isn't  the  one  he  finds  on  those  online  courses,ㅤbut  having  spanish  as  his  mother  tongue  and  knowing  body  language  may  offer  him  a  lot.ㅤㅤand  it’s  of  no  importance  if  you  prefer  to  do  something  with  anybody  other  than  him.ㅤㅤthat's  as  good  as  a  confession,ㅤmon  ami.ㅤㅤ]
IT  DOESN’T  MATTER,ㅤshe  likes  to  say.ㅤㅤbut  here  she  is,ㅤpicking  the  side  of  the  angels  all  the  same.ㅤㅤthere  is  no  helping  who  your  heart  falls  in  love  with  [  the  bright  shine  of  red  hair,ㅤthe  texture  of  misshapen  lips,ㅤthe  feeling  of  bone  breaking  and  blood  spraying ( … )  THE COWBOY KNOWS A THING OR TWO ABOUT LOVING THE WRONG PERSON   ]  but  there  is  making  a  conscious  decision  to  not  fuck  it  up.ㅤㅤand  yet  here  she  is,ㅤwanting  honesty.ㅤㅤwanting  the  truth.ㅤㅤla  llorona:  ahogando  a  sus  hijos  y  luego  preguntándose  por  qué  la  abandonaron.
and  you  love  her  anyways,ㅤdon’t  you,ㅤangie ?ㅤㅤi  understand.ㅤㅤ
he  grimaces  with  the  next  exhale  of  his  cigar,ㅤashes  falling  onto  his  serape.ㅤㅤor  does  overwatch  take  me  for  an  imbecile ?ㅤㅤ“ㅤever  thought  maybe  it’s  about  keeping  you  safe?ㅤ”ㅤㅤhe  mutters.ㅤㅤ“ㅤthis  ain’t  your  lane,ㅤis  it ?ㅤㅤif  i  give  ya  a  gun,ㅤdo  you  know  where  to  shoot  to  stun,ㅤwhere  shoot  t’  kill?ㅤ”ㅤㅤa  particular  skill  he  learned  keeping  the  ranch  safe,ㅤin  another  life,ㅤhunting  the  odd  predator.ㅤㅤremembers  the  one  time  he  rode  with  his  father  and  his  brother  to  down  a  coyote  —  but  never  to  kill.ㅤㅤKILLING  CAME  AFTER.ㅤㅤ
  a  sigh  as  he  shakes  his  head.ㅤㅤNOW  ISN’T  THE  TIME  FOR  ANGER.ㅤㅤthe  wind  gusts  a  little  colder,ㅤthe  sun  is  setting  more  and  more ;ㅤhis  hat  remains  atop  his  head  though.ㅤㅤthe  cowboy  ensures  to  be  looking  at  her  when  he  speaks  next,ㅤto  meet  her  golden  ambers  with  his  own.ㅤㅤ“ㅤi  ain’t  likin’  all  the  secret  bullshit,ㅤami.ㅤㅤnever  really  did.ㅤ”ㅤㅤironic,ㅤall  considered,ㅤ“ㅤit  do  nothin’  bu’  cause  a  damn  ruckus.ㅤ”ㅤㅤon  occasion  he  wonders,ㅤbetween  his  word  placement  and  accent,ㅤhow  much  she  truly  understands  of  what  he  is  sayingㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤespecially  when  his  voice  is  heavy  with  feeling,ㅤ“ㅤsecrets  lead  t’  nothin’  bu’    betrayal  an’  pain.ㅤㅤyours  an’  his  both.ㅤㅤ‘ers  too,ㅤi  bet.ㅤㅤte  quiero,ㅤmon  ami.ㅤㅤdon’  go  hurtin’  yourself  for  love  like  this.ㅤ”ㅤㅤa  hand  to  her  shoulder,ㅤthe  muscle  there  always  thrumming.ㅤㅤshe  is  never  not  ready  to  spring  into  one  of  her  pirouettes.ㅤㅤhe  understands  that  too.
. //              𝘎𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵 / 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘻𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦; the very things known & loved for what they were : an all-encompassing, vague idea of 'home' / of a comfort that, in this very moment, seems far away. Traveling throughout a part of one's off-season, why, work sometimes demanded as much; when schedule is not full of ballet class, rehearsals, dress fittings, photo-shoots & performances. && yet she finds herself never able to shake a certain melancholy for being here instead of furthering one's career meant something else : another kind of love-bound sacrifice.
The base is situated near a dazzling cliff-side resembling views once enjoyed in Monaco; when the most prominent of small city states' ballet companies had invited her for a collab / when she had spent a good minute glaring across the looming cityscape from high above; mirroring glance cast across the sea now, watching waves ebb & flow, abscond & return in the same vein
[ you are certain there is a metaphor somewhere; one that coils & pulls at heartstrings especially whenever in someone's company; especially after your latest conversation, the one that still lingered, nestled right underneath your steadily beating heart.
Oddly at ease / relaxed, nevertheless, because there is nothing more scathing he could potentially ask. Non, you have long deduced he would not inquire an identity; granted he had not put one & one together already. So it is your turn to ask, you reckon. It does not matter hereby which direction he would choose to allow himself being dragged into / which pas to pick & which included variation to indulge in in-between : sometimes you look at an upcoming part in a ballet scheduled weeks in advance & you know it will leave body sore in the aftermath; still, you love it in equal measure & thus dance it anyway. ━ Such a beautiful allegory, non? ].
" Have they ever lied to you? " ━          surely someone less impulsive would have let such a topic rest; not ask about matters most would merely shake their head to & instead enjoy the whiskey brought by him & the white wine kept in her bag alongside some well-chosen French bread & cheese. Yet she does, knowing that Gabriel had a tendency to complain about similar issues, despite how cryptic he would be when doing so, & that mentor & protégé are close; so she probes, as if she still is not sure whether it is protocol that feels like a blade in her side or merely personal chagrin on Monsieur Morrison's end. ⸻ && as if she is to mirror the last grave conversation they had had, attention flits to fixate him, cigarette tugged in-between right index & middle finger left to burn & ash. " Overwatch, I mean. "
there is a pause; one she deliberately makes to shoot cavalier a wry smile; it burns bright regardless of the topic at hand, finds its way into half-expectant soft glance / the gold specks within it in tandem with one's mien, alight with something akin to subtle resignation. ⸻ she gestures, delicately; a gentle wave of the hand, standing in starkest contrast, to shake the ash off & take another drag, speaking again, once done & a puff of smoke had been exhaled. " I 'ear it constantly. Confidential this, confidential that. And Gérard believes I do not notice. The scars, all of it. "
[ you are being unfair / mean beyond measure; straight forward as you get when you do not feel the need to be charming. Besides, you know who you are talking to. Besides, your tone is gentle, devoid of accusation. Besides, you are tired & you do no want to be polite, you do not want to be secretive. Who cares what you murmur into the wind? Or that you barely touch husband anymore anyway? && yet when you do there is always something new; something cleaved into his skin, readily healed, yet clearly inflicted in a manner so viciously, it secretly has you weep. ]
" Gabriel sometimes tells me ah... détails. So does Angela, even if she... " ━          does never allude [ because she loves you too much to break your heart. Because you agreed on never mentioning husband's name, not once ]. ━ saying doctor dearest's name out loud feels like a confession, so she trails off, has shoulders roll & stand in half relevé for a second's fractal if only to move. Stretch legs a little to get rid of whatever nervous energy sits & nestles ere turning lithe body to fully face him; brisk to bite her tongue & take a last drag, instead, elegantly flipping the dead thing towards the ground & stomp it out with the tip of black flats. No need for high-heels when nobody sees you. " Do they tell you silly stories, too, Cole? Ou Overwatch me prend-il simplement pour un idiot, hm? "
ask turned starter. @vaqro
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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doing timeline thingies as i sit in class, and im also thinking about how idyllic cole pictures his childhood being versus what actually may have happened. while it is true that their farm stayed relatively safe from the main conflict, we are still talking about wartime. shorter provisions, cut classes, and safety drills. its interesting because while normal  for us to idealize and romanticize a time prior to trauma, his memory seems to potty specifically around the events of the risis, as if it is something that happened but he was no part of it. there is also the idea that rosa and juan may have kept hischildren, especially his younger two, away from what was happening worldwide — which in turn just just made cuazo enlisting (and dying in battle) all more painful and confusing for little carlos.
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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had to go & read something sue wrote about tattoos and it immediately makes me think of cassidy's own tattoos. i will one day [ hopefully soon ] create a proper overview of his current tattoos, but for now, suffices to say all his tattoos are some form of memento. to people in his life that are no longer here, to parts of his life he's had to abandon — hence why he kept the deadlock insignia on his arm all those years until he lost his arm [ and then went and got himself a prosthesis that is cased like a skull ]. the body keeps score, and he certainly has the scars to tell those stories, but the tattoos are his choice to tell other stories too.
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vaqro · 2 years ago
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he doesn't even attempt to remind her of the way he is drinking his coffee. it's all the entertainment he needs, watching her choke down black coffee mixed with bitter whiskey. and cheers to her for keeping a mostly straight face.
it's moments such as these that pull at his heartstrings — an old guitar that lost tune but still plays with his feelings; she pulls those faces and runs her mouth non-stop and all he can hear is isabela trying to steal some coffee from the pot and regretting her life choices.
[ Maddie and Cuazo have been old enough to drink it and appreciate the bitterness. he wonders if Isa would remain a sweet tooth as she grew older. he wonders if would have less of a taste for it himself ]
his hand finds the handle of the mug again, but on its account. here is where he should comment on her less-than-desirable life choices, and quip about how white american cuisine is the bane of anyone's existence. perhaps even insinuate she should stop going out with white girls like she said she preferred not to over text.
instead, he remains silent. trapped in that little sonnet of recollection. it's some time until he shakes his head; pinches the bridge of his nose to try and ground himself. not use dwelling on impossibilities.
"lo siento. pregúntate alguna cosa?" he does try to sound like himself, but the slip into Spanish is enough of a tell. in the back of his mind, another ghost [ a more recent, more lively one ] reminds me to keep himself together.
he doesn't bother looking up when she sits down, more worried about whatever answers to the secrets of the universe he could find inside his tall cup of coffee — whiskey mixed in, as he told her [ and that's been something, trying to convince the poor omnic gal serving the booth that she could sneak him some neck oil ]. keenly aware his serape has more mud than thread. his beard needs some keeping. he could make use of a real shower.
"ate me an' spat me right out, as cows do to grass. then took his time chewin' me some more," he mutters, still as cordial as ever, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes quite so well. finally leans back, seeing that she is done with her grand entrance and at least three of her five pancakes. he sips at his coffee; didn't want to bother picking through the menu — he can bring himself to eat dairy and eggs if he sees no other option, what he is lacking is the appetite to get something down other than more coffee [ and more whiskey ]
"how's 'em pancakes, chica? ya very american pancakes." the smile broadens into a playful smirk. he knows what she probably thinks — he is not the right sort of mexican [ remembers, half - fondly, her face when she found out he was no guero ], he doesn't do it right. his jaw sets before he has any real conscious control over his own thoughts. no reason to think about things you left behind.
[ no man can walk out on his own story ]
"i'd've asked sum' syrup or butter, but ya seem fine with 'em dry."
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