Turk with nunchucks

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Go home, Tumblr, you’re drunk. 

turkanvivia​:

It was not a gesture they had expected. It's not the gesture in itself that they even register as the intimate show of closeness as it was, no, but it's rather the touch. A real touch of something corporeal. Something that gently asks them to return back to the world but without any strings of threat or violence. It was strange and somewhat new. And Ossis has never feared anything new and unknown.

Sapphire blue eyes blinks back to the present, back to Anvivia. The smile relaxed. There's a brief flash of uncertainty in those eyes to her words before the pieces fell into to place.

His hand grips over the white gloved one, and his eyes closed as the two foreheads connected. Anchored. Close to shore. It's warm and light and they feel bright and secure.

"True," there's a hint of a small chuckle under their breath, "you are not one would with ease forget even if they put effort behind it. However..." Voice trailing. Keeping their eyes closed in this close encounter, doing nothing to step away from it. "I am afraid you are mistaken. You were there. I was simply... not fast enough. I am with no doubt in my heart that you did your best to catch me."

turkanvivia​:

Hearing her laughter and seeing her smile warms up Ossis’ thin frame from within. The sight distracted them from Anvivia words. However, they doubt it really matters, what matters is her happiness, and that they were the one who provided it.

Ossis' own charming smile hasn't left them, and they give another friendly squeeze to her gloved hand. Neither of them had let go of the other.

"That would be lovely." Ossis purr in a hopeful tone - with an added chuckle at the pun. Pausing just a moment too long -as they begin to gather their thoughts on how to deliver the next follow-up suggestion- because that precise moment gave room for Anvivia's question. A question which robs the bliss and invites the darkness back. Ossis could naturally, easily turn it back. All Ossis needs to do is to play oblivious and innocent and throw in a jest. It would be easy and comfortable, but if this is something that has pained Anvivia for some time then it's better to give her some real reassurance.

"How much did I lose?..." Ossis tastes the question, weighting it on their tongue, while their head sinks into the pillows and the blue eyes moves to focus on something beyond the roof over them. Beyond the present. "Memory wise, let's see... It is hard to tell, I woke up rather addled, though I believe I can now recall everything that I am supposed to remember." Looking back at Anvivia with a small smile. "I recall who I am. What we Turks do. Our mission. And you."

turkanvivia​:

"Oh, you know I cannot make such promises, my lady. We all know I cannot resist the challenge in perfecting my skateboard stunts."

The longer Ossis are observing Anvivia, the clearer becomes their mind –in a strange sense of matter. They have only woken up recently, woken up to a world that hasn't stopped changing in their absence. Everyone who had come to visit had changed. Katana, Cissnei, Reno, Rude, Shotgun and— but Anvivia, she appears precisely how they remembered her. There's a strange sense of comfort in that thought, even though Ossis bet that there are changes, just that they can't see them right now.

The renewed smile on the blonde's face is a familiar sight. It's the sweet, angel-like, boy charming smile that they are known for. Wanting nothing more than to escape from misplaced feelings of guilt. Wanting to see Anvivia smile for real and not in pretend, Ossis changes the subject.

"I am being well taken care of," Ossis assures, and a playful smile grows on their face, "However, the food is rather dreadful, if I get to be honest. Tell me, are that lobster restaurant still in business?" One does not have to be a mastermind to hear where Ossis is trying to steer this conversation.

theshinraheir​:

Into the wolf’s jaws the black sheep prowls. Avoiding teeth and creaky floorboards on its way. With a set purpose that's feed with betrayal and blood lust. Oh, Pedro will regret his transgression.

It's easy enough to locate the basement, and thanks to Nunchaku's background check of the building, he knows right away that something is at miss. The basement is far too small from what was shown on the blueprints. Nunchaku spends a full four minutes searching for any clues or hidden passages. Nothing. Just a regular poor-man's storage space with the smell of moisture damage.

Growing up with money, Nunchaku knew that rich folks loooves secret spaces with hidden entrances. As a child he took great pleasure in discovering hidden doors whenever he was invited to someone's property. The bigger the estate the more likely it is for the existence of these hidden spaces.

His search leads him to Pedro's bedroom. Nothing appears out of normal at first glance, just what one might expect how a bedroom of a middle age hairdresser, an eccentric man from downtown to look like. Nunchaku takes no enjoyment navigating through Pedro's privacy. They weren't friends. That's why he remains unaffected when stepping into the walk-in-closet, through rows of colorful garments that conceals the man's secret obsession. An unhealthy number of pictures, magazines, and trinkets are all gathered alongside one wall. All of them picturing Rufus Shinra. White Gold fan club.

                   - Jackpot!

Finding what he was searching for, Nunchaku leaves the closet door wide open and his blazer on the floor before descending into the dark… with a dangerous sneer on his lips.

-

Distracted by the talking and the insane fact that he had Vice President Rufus Shinra here, alone, with him! Despite it, Pedro jerked his head up in alarm by the noise of a floorboard over them squeaking ever so lightly. Holding his breath for a few tense seconds of listening before visibly relaxing and turning his full attention back on his honored guest when there's no more followed up sounds. After all, old wood do creak.

"Now, where were we, Mr. Vice president?" Pedro clears his throat in apology. Sinking back into his false sense of security. One of Pedro's hands finds its way back onto Rufus' shoulder…

Leaning closer to the drugged and tied up man, Pedro studies Rufus with an intense look of admiration. The grin is also back, but doesn't stay on for long—

                  Snip! Snip!

Somewhere from the dark and unlit corners of the basement, echoes ominous sounds from a sharp scissor.

Losing most of the color from his face, Pedro turns instinctively towards the entrance door, clutching the shoulder of Rufus as if his life depended on it. But seeing no one there...