ＯＵＴ ＯＦ ＬＵＸ discussion
newest »
![Aurora [King Princess’ Version] (sunkissedcassia) | 4568 comments](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1760534874p1/179484724.jpg)
The image of the destructive Night Riders boss sitting in a little cottage lined with cobblestones and crystals, sipping on tea from a China cup, and eating shitty cookies baked by an eleven-year-old is truly a sight to be seen. Her dark wavy hair fluffs up from her head like a headpiece, her nails chipped and dirty, only the vague remnants of black polish surviving on the dirty nubs. She wears baggy pants that don't fit her, and a tight top with the sleeves cut off, knives shoved in all existing pockets in her leather jacket that's so old it looks gray rather than black. Her aesthetic is at odds with her surroundings in every way possible.
She takes another bite of the cookie. It's burnt to a crisp on the edges, and disgustingly doughy in the middle. The tea is just lukewarm water with honey in it, and the 'China' isn't China at all, because China doesn't exist there, and is actually just a regular cup. It's probably the best thing she had ever tasted, if only because of the kid who made it.
The little boy who created the nasty thing was the newest scorpion in the den. Omarif Fredrial was a kid with a curly mess of a hair, dark skin, and a penchant for using his childish charm to get people to do what he wanted. In this case, it was getting Isadora to eat disgusting food that was just good enough to make others think he actually tried. Of course, Isadora knew what he was doing, but he was a damn good actor and really seemed like he wanted her to like the cookies. Even she couldn't say no to him.
Omarif had come with his older sister, Reina. Fifteen years old, much less of a menace than her brother. She carried around this sadness that Isadora hated to see, so to try and get out Reina's delinquent side, their first task was to be taken out into the downtown and quote, "fuck shit up." Vance is a very eloquent leader.
Even though they were gone, Isa found herself absentmindedly chewing on the mess of a pastry. She had been thinking a lot, and it was worrisome. She cared for the scorpions, of course, and she wasn't going soft by any means. She was eating these cookies now, but she wasn't above decking a kid if he stepped out of line. But it's true that Isa's usual shenanigans had decreased as they'd been taking in younger and younger members.
After Isadora became the boss years ago, the gang started to attract more kids. They still had their usual adult members, but Isa's story of a life on the streets to a reckless gang leader was attractive to down on their luck kids, like Omarif and Reina, who share her experience. She adored them, obviously, and took them in without a second though. She did most things without a second thought. The only issue is, kids require more teaching and settling in than others, at least at first, and most of her adult crew wasn't up for babysitting duty.
Bottom line is, Isadora needed to get a night out on the town, and fast. She was going crazy not being crazy, and tonight was the night she would do it. Most people were out doing their own thing, and those who weren't were staying in the den anyways. Isa had never been a person who liked responsibility, and the weight of it was going to turn her into the boss before her, Helena.
Helena had been turning into a fucking warden by the time Isa joined. She had given curfews, didn't let them drink, threatened to call authorizes when they stole from markets. It was less of a gang, and more of a rehabilitation camp. The most Isa ever did was make people shower when they stunk and told them not to die. Anything else? Fair game. In any case, Isa refused to stay stuck in the cottage and wither away. No one needed babysitting, and she wasn't their mother. At most, she was an aloof aunt. And this aunt was gonna aloof all of the place tonight.
"HEY COLE," she hollered out to her second in command, too lazy to find him herself. They'd be going out on the town, she'd decided. She'd drag him out by the ear if she had to, because a day out alone is even worse than staying here, and everyone else was either gone out for the night, asleep, scared of her, or way too eager to impress. Cole was her go to guy- plus, dinner would be on her.
....On her criminal record that is. She had money, but so did the people she steals from. Besides, the heist is the best part of a meal. Dinner just doesn't hit the same without the memories of a shop owner screaming for you to return a sandwich that's already halfway down your digestive track and tricking a security guard into opening the door while your friend hits them on the head, then screams for the two of you to make a run for it.
Good times. Good fucking times.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔A crash resonated down the hallway seconds after, followed by a loud cuss. A few more seconds followed before Cole peered his head around the doorway to Isadora's little nook inside the den, his hair sprung loose from its earlier ponytail and some grease stains arched down one cheek. His own workspace, in the den and down the hallway a few feet from Isadora's, was always a cluttered disaster. Most people were too afraid to step foot anywhere near it simply because he always had gears lying around, half-formed and not-fully-tested inventions scattered among them, and some potions laying haphazardly on tables in bright pinks and hazy purples. Now, the pale skin on his face looked faintly lilac, as he had been trying to move one of his inventions, dropped it when Isadora hollered out at him out of nowhere, and the invention had smashed into another one of his rigged with balloons filled with lilac-colored dye that made people fall asleep.
It had gotten all over his face, and he had tried to rub it off before the sleepiness took effect, shooting down another potion he had created that countered the effect of practically anything he invented. "What?" He demanded now, staring at Isadora and taking stalk of the plate of cookies. He arched a brow. "Are they that bad you want to poison everyone else in the vicinity? Do you need me to throw those away? Look, Izzy, we've been over this, I am not your errand boy, and also, you almost gave me a heart attack, not exactly that I mind, but still, I was working and some of those inventions are delicate, love, delicate."
Not that he minded all that much, but truthfully, his biggest issue was the Elliot situation. Cole had been in his workspace mainly to grab his notebook that had been lost amongst the chaos of his space to show Elliot all his prank ideas and inventions, and had no expected one of them to blow up quite literally in his face. He was ninety percent sure he still had some lilac tangled in his hair. But he also was unsure how to tell Isadora that he had brought someone new into the Night Riders, not that it totally mattered, gangs got new people all the time, but Elliot was a special case he did need to address with her, just maybe not quite this second.
He nevertheless pushed off the wall and waltzed into the room, sitting down with a sigh across from Isadora. "So what's up?" He asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Cole shivered slightly, having had to shuck his jacket off after the explosion and crash, now dirty with the grease stains of the first invention and his explosion from the second. Ah, well. This was actually kind of normal for him, it wasn't like he had ever been that organized to begin with.
Cole had long ago learned not to flirt with a few people. Normally, he had never really cared all that much who he let his attentions drift to before and after Charlotte, but there were two people he knew not to do that with, and one of them was Izzy. Not to say that he hadn't at one point in time, but he did respect her as the leader of the Night Riders, and he honestly was fine with being her friend. He liked her--she was fun, she was a better person deep down than many would realize, and she was great company when they went out in Asterath to just be Night Riders personified--being as chaotic as possible.
Cole adored that chaos. The Night Riders had long been his home, even before he had been made the Lieutenant, and it was a place he regarded as safe. People here didn't care where you were from, as long as you didn't exactly harm anyone that badly, and were just looking to have some fun. These were people who knew how to laugh and smile, and Cole's only regret was that the one who had introduced him to the gang all those years ago was no longer around. But still, he would never give this place up.
Isadora didn't even flinch at the clanging crashes that bounced off the walls. The noise was typical around the den, even when tinkerers like Cole weren't working on their gadget thingamabobs. The ends of her mouth curved upward slightly when her suspicions were confirmed, and Cole cursed loudly from upstairs. She'd probably messed up something or other with her shout, but honestly? Skill issue. People yelled around here constantly, and if he wasn't ready to handle that, then sucks to suck. Isa had said some form of this speech to people dozens of times before, and the way it made people tangibly annoyed with her was absolutely hilarious. Allergic to a drink? Skill issue. She stole your necklace? Skill issue. Fail at literally anything ever at all? Skill. Issue.
Cole trudged down the stairs, covered in grease spots and shades of pink. That, accompanied by his expression, which was akin to seeing a child rip up your favorite dress, was enough to make her snort out the tea (?) she was drinking, right through her nose. Izzy cackled, pushing back in her chair at the sight of a tired Cole who was covered in colors so sporadically he looked like a first-grade art project.
"When was the last time you brushed your hair?" she asked casually, crossing her legs and taking another long sip of the trash tea. "And no, my dear sweet summer child, I am not trying to poison everyone in the vicinity. That's not how poison works. I'm not shoving them down your throat, now, am I? No, I'm shoving them down mine, much to my confusion and regret. And no need to throw them away, I'll probably make the boy eat the rest as a punishment." She set the teacup down and made a face of disgust as the aftertaste settled in. "Holy mother, that's really bad. Yeah, for sure don't eat those."
She checked out her snubby nails as he spoke, mouthing the words mockingly as he spoke. "Memmemememmemme, okay, okay, I get it, Jesus Christ. I messed up your gear thing, and I'll probably do it again, so warning in advance. If you don't want to be startled by shouts, my newly raspberry looking friend, then simply don't be startled." She grinned and spun around in the chair- as it is indeed spinny, along with almost all the other chairs in the den- and in a sing-song voice said, "Skill issue, Rogers. Skill issue."
"But anyways," she said, and stopped spinning. "I'm not calling you down for that. Even though you are totally my errand boy, no matter how much you protest, that is not the case right now. If you've recovered enough from your heart attack, you dramatic princess pink-a-luscious Primadonna, then I'm going to go ahead and tell you we're having a night out." Izzy took a bite of the cookies and almost choked. "I have no idea why I keep eating them, but anyways, ignore that. I be as I be, yadayadayada. My point is, all the newbies are out being hazed, boring people are asleep, and we're free to go! I'm going crazy in here. I haven't smashed a window in weeks, and I think the local angry shop owners might actually be worried about me."
Izzy shoved away the cookie plate and shifted around in the chair, her legs now swung over one side, so she was almost horizontal. "Now, if you can forgive me, please and thank you, I could even like help fix your do-dad so we can hurry up and get out of here. I heard they added new security since last time, and that'll be fun to figure out. And there's new management in that flower store, and you know how much we love to mess with new idiots who don't know what they're doing. And I'll even get us dinner. You literally can't say no for any reason, also I'm your boss and you have to."
Obviously, Isadora knew she couldn't force Cole to do anything- he wasn't scared of her at all, which while frustrating at times, made it so he didn't put up with her bullshit if he didn't want to. The only thing he might be scared of was the thought of her messing with his things that she exclusively calls dodads and thingababobs. She would wreck any progress he'd made on anything, and that's before she even tried to be a wreck.
"Pretty please with a cherry on top? I'll be your best friend? And strawberry has always been my favorite ice cream," Isa added, referring once again to the pink covering his hair. She grinned and batted her eyes dramatically. Isadora felt more hyper by the second and would soon start actually bouncing off the walls- she wasn't kidding when she said she needed to break a window.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔Cole sneered at Isadora in response, blue eyes snappy beneath the faded lilac and smudges of grease. "When was the last time you cleaned your space here?" He quipped back, barely missing a beat, albeit one hand reached up to his hair. Ah, right. Fighting a slightly-pinked blush, for no other reason than embarrassment, he worked to yank his fingers through the tangles, his hand coming away with that goo on his fingers. Ack, it smelled like shit, that was not a part of his plan. He made a mental note to work on that before it was ready for deployment down the halls of the den. It put you to sleep--it had smell calming. Like lavender, despite the goo being lilac in shade. And yes, there was a difference in the shades of purple, thank you, though he doubted most people were smart enough or aware enough to tell the difference.
Cole rolled his eyes, but a small chuckle burst from his chest, watching as Isadora set aside the cookies, if they could even be called that. From where he stood, something looked wrong about them, maybe the bake or the shape. He didn't know. Valen would, but she was out probably taunting death at the hoverboard park. "I was gonna say, why are you eating something that looks like the cat barfed it up?"
"Yes, you did mess up my inventions,, not gear thing, and I know you'll do it again. And for the record, Izzy, it is lilac." Yes, he had looked into a mirror before coming down here, just to make sure he didn't look horrific, and yes, he saw the faint smudges of light purple mixed into his pale complexion. "Not raspberry. Should I drag out a child's color wheel for your amusement while you eat your cat-vomit? Then again, theoretically, your color-blindness is also just a skill issue, wouldn't you say?" A gleam danced in Cole's blue eyes, made more violet by the neon lights flaring around the den, and his lips twitched into a full-blown smirk.
Truly, he was not bothered by Isadora's comments. Most anyone else, sure, but there were a few people who could jab at him who he felt comfortable enough with, those he could also jab back at in return. Okay, fine, except that.
"I am absolutely not your errand boy! Make whoever gave you those horrible-ass cookies your errand boy, they certainly deserve to be doomed to the end of their days for that. Unless it was those two kids, which in that case, well, I suppose they could be forgiven because kids are so utterly clueless." He tapped his fingers against one of the crystals growing from the wall, the sharpened edge like a shock of electricity, and withdrew his hand, crossing his arms before his chest instead.
When he reached the desk, Cole leaned over, raising his brows. "I am not pink. I am a purple Primadonna and I will not be taking any other sort of--wait, what?" He perked up, spine straightening, a surge of excitement cutting through his protests and jokes. Being called a princess in any capacity was enough to get his skin itching, because Cole had grown up with people who truly were entitled brats, but making jokes of situations had always been one of his main four coping mechanisms, and at this point, well, it was Izzy. She could mostly get away with saying whatever she wanted. Mostly. But a night out? Oh, Lantas, it had been way too long since he'd had a good night out where he could all his anxieties into the nonexistent wind.
He reached over and snatched the plate when she pushed it away, pulling it towards him and then dumping it into an open trash can by her desk. "Me neither, problem solved." Eagerly, Cole found his words coming faster, quicker, as his mind raced ahead to all the fun they'd have tonight--Izzy smashing windows, Cole trying to stop her from doing that to every buiding they passed, while he strutted inside saloons and taverns and saw how many people fawned over him. Often, there were quite a few, and it had been a moment since he'd taken anyone on a date. "Oh, yes, I'm sure they're up in arms and demanding Council to find you for them so they can kneel before you throwing flowers," he added with another eye roll, because what else was he supposed to do? Honestly, she was much more dramatic than him when it came to life in general, and he had a feeling they both knew it.
He stared at his boss for a second, and then shook his head and stood up. "Nope. Absolutely not. You are not allowed within five feet of my workspace, we have been over this. You call them thingamabobs and do-dads, I do not trust you on this, and it can wait for tomorrow. Or, uh, rather, the next day, because I plan to be very, very wasted tonight and wake up with a splitting headache." It's been way too long. "Oh, I'm in, mate. I'm very much in." Dinner on Isadora as well? Hell, this was great! "I need no convincing, I'll definitely go, like, shower quickly though, just because this is..." He lifted the ends of his hair, the lilac almost...fine, raspberry...under the bright neon lights. "This is not it. It is not strawberry!" He almost stomped his foot in a childish manner but graciously refrained. "Meet you down here in, what, fifteen minutes? And I've got security covered, not to worry."
Cole smoothed his hair back and winked. Albeit, it did not go as planned, his fingers getting caught in some of the goo, and he grumbled and dropped his hand. "Nobody can say no to my charm. That is. Unless they're elderly fellows, which in that case, we just find a new tactic to get through, and of course we gotta stop by and say hello to the new management! You'll make such a lasting impression, I'm sure," he chuckled. He could trade for a few flowers, hand them out to every woman or man who tried to make eyes at him. Lead them on, do what he did best. It could be such a fun evening, if only...
Cole hesitated, feeling some of his energy seep out, like a child's popped balloon losing helium. "Just keep an eye out for anything suspicious, what with the murders on the loose, yeah?" His stomach twisted into knots, and his thoughts flashed back to Elliot. Hold up. Would bringing his new friend be a good idea? He could scout more places under guise of Cole showing him the city.
Tapping his toe on the ground, he ran through quickly what that would mean. Introducing Elliot to Izzy. Whatever that entailed and however long that would take. Elliot just got here, it was nighttime, maybe he needed a bit of rest before heading out. No, he could figure out what to do about bringing Elliot into the Riders...in two days. Or tonight, if drunk Cole had no filter. Or tomorrow, if hungover Cole thought it was a good idea.
"That's literally what I said," Isadora replied, sprawled across the chair. As she was spinning, she slipped a knife from her jacket and threw it at the wall, cheering when it hit right in the space between the ceiling and the wall. "And I must say, it's very disrespectful to listen to me so little that you didn't even hear me say inventions. Not very lieutenant-y of you, sir." Izzy's voice was slightly warbled, the volume coming and going as she twirled around in the seat. If she was anyone else less skilled with a knife, anyone with hand-eye coordination a bit lower than hers, it most likely would have flung out of her hands and killed Cole. However, this was a normal occurrence in the den and certainly caused the poor sap who brought them in originally to be deeply regretful of their decisions.
Very abruptly, Isadora stopped spinning in her chair and stared very seriously at Cole. "Wait, shit," she said, and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the world to stop bouncing all around her for a moment. "One sec. My ear liquid is rebelling against me." And as said, one second later Izzy re-opened her eyes and continued her disappointed glare in the direction of the man who insulted her cat. "Okay, now, Hamsy does not throw up, Rogers," she said, crossing her arms (and somehow not losing balance, then falling off the chair). "He's too dignified."
Hamsy was a fat, grumpy tabby cat, who was so dirty when she first found him, that for years she assumed he was a tortoise shell because the muck coated his coat so thoroughly*. He's scratchy, and he pees on clothes, and he seems to always be carrying some kind of disease that goes away as soon as they decide to spend the money to get him officially looked at. He's, to put it plainly, an asshole of a cat who barely tolerates most people and utterly despises the rest of humanity. But, he doesn't throw up. Not to Izzy's knowledge, at least.
"He is a perfect specimen of a living creature and would have replaced all of you in seconds if he wasn't so kind as to let you keep your jobs, and I like him more than most, if not all people." She looked at Cole pointedly, then said, "And yes, nice use of skill issue, pretentious-prissy-lily-lilac boy. It indeed that, popping-locking-putrid-pasty-purple man. Am I doing color correctly now, Mr. cocky-color-concept- cyber grape purple-cardinal purple?" Izzy inhaled sharply, having said all of this in one rushed breath. "I could do this all day," she said, grinning. "And since you're set on me knowing purple, I will research literally every shade, so I have all of the names to call you at my disposal at all times, errand boy." She tilted her head and absently threw another knife at the wall, Hamsy jumping up and scrambling to try and catch the flying object.
She smiled fondly at the cat, truly her oldest and bestest friend. The cookies, which seemed to personally offend Cole in all of the most entertaining ways, were now thrown in the trash, and she felt oddly sad about it. As much as she hated those god-awful freaks of nature, she kind of wanted more. What if, like, the next cookie somehow ended up being good? We'd never know now. "Sorry to disappoint, Moley-Coley," Isadora seemed to somewhat break character at the new and increasingly ridiculous nickname, needing to take a moment to fix her face before she continued, "But the cookies were made by the new eleven-year-old-ish kid. Guess you're stuck doing my laundry." Sadly, Cole had never done her laundry, no matter how much she would ask. One day. One day, she'd succeed.
Isadora perked up when she saw him respond just as she wanted to her proposition. They'd both been inside way too much, unable to do their own thing, and as much as she joked around begging him to come along, she really would have been disappointed had he declined. She'd had some of her best memories in the worst possible situations on their nights out, either in jail cells, held at knifepoint, or waking up blocks and blocks away from any building they recognized. It always just seemed to work out, and they became funny stories before even having the chance to become horrific ones, and that's only due to the fact that they worked so well together.
A black blur flew across the room and landed right on Cole's blond-lilac-lavender-whatever mop of hair. Izzy had thrown a random tablecloth ("Tablecloths?" she had said, when Nial brought them back from the market. "We live in a literal mushroom, kind of, not...well not, anywhere that would use tablecloths!" Now, she was very happy they had tablecloths and would be thanking Nial as soon as she remembered to do so) at Cole's head and rolled her eyes at him. "Mock me all you want, sir, but I'm more than confident that those managers are staring out the window this very moment, waiting for me to come along and spice up their boring little lives. They have their dainty little hands on the glass of their stores, begging for Isadora Vance to crash their buildings full of shitty boyfriends getting last-minute gifts, and also crash into all of those windows."
Izzy rolled her eyes once again, and spinned around a single time in the rollie chair before facing him. "Yes, yes, I won't touch your stuff. But, but, but, in my defense, dodads and thingamabobs are quite literally scientific terms used, so don't be condescending to your fellow inventor people." Isadora's eyes lit up with a glint that had been dulled over the past few weeks. "Yes, there we go!" She hopped up from the chair, wobbled a bit, then rolled it over to grab the knife that got stuck in the walls. "I'm so bored in here, and if you had said no, I would have actually died of boredom in here or died of something else out there." She refused to admit it to anyone, or herself, but Izzy tended to make slightly uninformed and ill-advised decisions when alone and drunk. Or alone at all. Or all the time, no matter the situation.
When he winked, she pressed her lips together, trying to hold in the bubbling laughter, then hopped down from the chair, knives sheathed and shoved into her pockets. "No, no, for sure, Cole," she said, covering her face as her shoulders shook a bit from laughter. Like he wasn't scared of her and her erratic self, she was utterly immune to any 'charm' he might have. If anything, his constant flirtations made her considerably unattracted to him. "Leave the show for the streets, because I'm sure I'll emasculate you even more if you continue with the shtick here. Love you, of course, but not if you keep that up in my presence." Izzy patted his shoulder and pinched his cheek teasingly. Then she sniffed and recoiled a bit. "Ack, never mind, what the hell is in that purple shit? Actual purple shit? Go get a shower, jesus christ.
Izzy sobered up when Cole mentioned the miscellaneous murders going on as of recent- not because of the murders themselves, which Izzy could honestly care less about in terms of a 'greatly conspiracy' worry. But because of the rare moment of genuine worry that flickered across Cole's face. She seldom saw any form of rare, unfiltered emotion coming from Cole's direction, so Izzy had learned to take it seriously. He tended to be less flippant about things, and when he took notice of something, Isadora at least looked into it more than she originally had. "We'll be careful," she agreed, holding open her jacket filled with delicate daggers. "And lucky for you, I tend to get more violent when drunk, so if we are attacked, I'll protect you." Even though her protection was given as a joke, Izzy really would tear anyone who attacked them tonight to shreds. Maybe not literally, but anyone who fucked with her people were in deep shit to begin with. Attacking Cole while they were supposed to be having fun with no consequences? Absolutely not okay.
"Okay, okay, go get a shower, purple goo monster thingamabob, that stuff really doesn't smell good. The audacity to call poor Omarif's cookies cat garbage!" She shoved him away, in the direction of upstairs. "I'll sharpen my daggers, or whatever, and try and find those drink caps we have so we don't get drugged somewhere. First stop is that flower place, so I can collect my ten dollars when they miss me ever so dearly, like I said they would."
*Tortoise shells don't look dirty, don't get it twisted! one of my cats is a tortoise shell and she's beautiful.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔"It is not," Cole protested lightly, watching the light blink off the knife and the handle shake for a second when it hit. So many people in Asterath, especially among the gangs, preferred weapons like that--ones that could do serious injury. But to Cole, the Night Riders had always been more fun, just focused on having a group of people hang out together and invent funny things and cause some largely-harmless chaos. Knives and guns made him nervous, twitchy, especially after what had happened with Charlotte, so he only carried around his inventions, which had gotten him out of tight spots the last couple of years. That was one of the reasons he had been working on the purple goo. It put people to sleep, thus preventing any deaths in a confrontation, should he be able to get it out on time. Now, with the recent murders, he had started carrying a long knife, but he really felt uneasy around it and was not the best wielder. Cole could defend himself with magic a hell of a lot better, and was actually good at that, fighting with magic in the ring sometimes. He would have totally lopped a head off if he had thrown the knife Isadora had just let loose. He grinned and swept into an utterly sarcastic, dramatic bow. "Alas, I live to disappoint, my lady."
"Ear liquid? Well, in your own words, that, too, sounds like a skill issue, but also, maybe you should stop spinning in chairs." He arched a brow and tapped his fingers along his thigh in thought, grimacing when they touched more sticky purple goo he had forgotten to try and pry off his jeans. To be fair, Cole had not at all expected to have the balloons explode all over him and his workspace today, and he blamed Izzy, though not with any ill-will. Simply, she had startled him. "Because that will make you vomit, so maybe it's your vomit in those cookies, and, on that note, what? Dignity has nothing to do with the internal affairs of the way someone's body works. Cats are cats, mate. Look, Hamsy is great, but Hamsy is a cat."
And great was relative. Cole knew how much he tended to get sick, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like the animal. While Cole himself preferred dogs, Hamsy had grown on him, and when the cat allowed him, he liked to pet him between the ears. It was a personal goal for Cole to one day get the cat to purr.
"Wow." He chuckled, crossing his arms, and nodded once. "Yes, indeed you are, but don't tire yourself out there, yeah? Yes, yes, now your knowledge of colors is quite impressive, you'd put any small child to absolute shame. And for the record, Dizzy Izzy," he shot back with a triumphant smirk, the timing perfect for that name given her "ear liquid", "I look quite fabulous covered in this purple. I am glorious, I am a spotlight now, and all the women and men will be drawn to me like a moth to flame. I incite curiosity now, with my splashes of lilac, like a true Night Rider, done up in chaotic swaths of neon. Speaking of which, Hamsy could never replace us, because he doesn't know how to have fun on a night out or play pranks. He's a lovely fellow, but he's not able to replace us. That said, good call, most human beings can really suck." Cole liked meeting people, he truly did, but he had also met so many nasty people that he was inclined to agree with Izzy on that one, that liking animals was so much easier than liking people.
You wouldn't guess it, though, on the way Cole flirted as if his life depended on it, as well as drank half his weight in beer every time they went out, and even some nights when they didn't. But there remained a reason why he only ever dated a woman for one night, and then never spoke to her again as he took another man out the next night. Process would repeat itself as long as he lived, if Cole had anything to say about it, because love was not worth the heartbreak and the possible tragedy, and people could be pricks.
He grimaced when Isadora sent another knife flying. "I am not your errand boy, and honestly, stop throwing those things, I know you're skilled, wannabe purple master, but like, my hair is really precious to me, are my baby blues, so if you ever get one of those within a foot of my face, I will not be thrilled and neither will all of the lovely men and women who like blond-hair, blue-eyed basic bitches like myself. So please, please watch the knife play. Very impressive, mate, but this face is fragile and please do not wreck it more than my purple goop already has," he stated. He knew Izzy was quite skilled when it came to throwing her knives like shining stars shooting across a sky, but could anyone blame him for being paranoid he would lose an eye or his hair would get cropped so horribly nobody would ever want to kiss him again? Horrible. Utter tragedy. "And Hamsy is chasing the knife. This seems dangerous."
Cole made a face, a a visceral reaction as his nose wrinkled and lips twisted. "Ack. Nope. No. The purple nicknames are one thing but no to whatever that awful monstrosity was. Never say that again or there will never be a day I do your laundry," he threatened, though, no, he had never been planning to do it anyway despite the fact she had all but demanded it when the lid of the trashcan closed on the cookies, sealing them in a dark, smelly grave. "Itchy Izzy," he shot back, because as much as Isadora amused herself at nicknames, two could play this game, and that last one had been so awful he had to fire something back at her.
Cole honestly loved it. That was why he was in this gang. Okay, no, it wasn't fully, but certainly it was a part of the reason. He adored causing chaos, throwing flowers, getting blackout drunk and waking up in a new place to explore, super duper hungover. Adrenaline rushes as he did something kind of idiotic like jump from high places had him feeling alive and almost like a part of himself he rarely felt back home, but he truly had been inside for too long the past few weeks. His only true outings had been the saloon, the ring, and the night market, and none of those had been with Izzy for Valen, which meant they had largely been boring as all get-out. He blamed Izzy.
"Hey! Not the hair!" Cole whined, and he ripped the object off his head, wincing as he ripped some hair out with it, and then stared at the object as his head smarted. "A tablecloth. Well, I do sincerely appreciate your gift and you will not be getting this back." It was a nice one, too, he figured as he folded it quite primly and tucked it beneath his arm, his hair now standing up every which way. He could hang it up in his workspace by the door to block additional prying eyes, or he could use it to place more items on for his inventions, more cogs or gears, or maybe he could use it as an actual tablecloth and pretend he was back in Voxthain at a stupid fancy dinner. Nah. Probably the privacy. Or pranks. Pranks were good. "And yes, thank you for your express permission to mock you. Because I would have anyway, but it makes me feel so much better when I have your utmost green light." He smirked, bringing out a dimple on one side of his face. "And in any case, we can certainly find out, which I do know anyway will end in me being right, those managers will cry the second they see us roll up."
"'Inventor people'?" Cole echoed. "See, look, no, they're not scientific terms and the fact you just said every single thing you just said proves you don't know anything about what I do." A small knot of relief unspooled in his chest as he planted his hands on his hips, the tablecloth now firmly clenched in one hand. It was quite soft, and he was getting very attached agains all better judgment, most likely. He did not like anyone touching his inventions and prank tools, thank you kindly. Especially people who did not understand how they worked. Science had been one of Cole's strongest academic subjects in Cogsworks before he had been expelled, albeit he rarely did his homework even for that. "Good, they are my babies. Uh-huh." His face pulled into a slight worried frown when Izzy wobbled, his blue eyes following her movement. "Dizzy Izzy," he repeated, and then added, "well, in this state, you could still die from something out there so just--of course I'm going with you." She didn't have to admit it aloud; where Cole made poor decisions, Izzy tended to make worse, and he loved having fun with her, but sometimes he had to play the older sibling despite their same age. But truly, even if she had not been dizzy as all get-out, Cole would have said yes, because he craved flashes of neon lights, feeling almost carefree again for the first time in weeks.
He was fine with that; Cole did not want to date Izzy, in any capacity, but he was a flirty person by nature, so some of his charm bled through. That, and it was fun for him; Izzy bossed him around, and he flirted, and they just lived with it. He grinned regardless at her laughter. "Will you, though?" He fired back with a raised brow. "I highly, highly doubt that, you have yet to learn the way my brain works. Ugh." He swatted her hand away and rolled his eyes. "You love me anyway, regardless, on every distant planet and every universe because I am so utterly charming, intelligent, and put up with your lovely eccentricities, and because together we have a lot of fun when we go visit the city, so don't put me down, mate, truly." But Cole's next smirk was victorious, the neon lights making his eyes gleam in a very impish way. He cackled. "That is what you get for touching my face. The lovely smell of unfinished inventions that you made me explode, but yes, I'll shower. Unless. Unless I don't just to piss you off, because that will be endlessly amusing for me. Of course it's actual purple shit! What did you think it was this whole time?" He asked incredulously. "Chalk?"
Honestly, though, Cole intended to. He felt sticky, and that was not a good feeling, which, besides, he intended to ask a few people out tonight, and looking like this would never, ever do.
Cole swallowed and nodded. While he was not the biggest fans of weapons like the knives Izzy seemed to have an endless supply of, he couldn't admit he didn't want them here tonight. Nobody knew who was behind these murders, and he wanted as much possible defense as he could get. He'd pack several of his own inventions that would knock a person out, or otherwise incapacitate them, just in case. He truly did have anxiety about them--the murders were gruesome, sucking out magic, and nobody knew who they next target would be. Shivers darted up his spine, remembering the one body he had stumbled upon a few weeks ago, before he had promptly vomited behind a fake tree. "Thank you," he murmured, exhaling in relief as his shoulders dropped. A few things made Cole take life seriously, and that was one of them. Especially if Serpentine was behind it, not that he knew for sure. But still. People dying did not sit well with him. He was a flirt and jokester, not a killer. "And hey, while I can protect myself, I do appreciate it," he told her with a small smile, not a teasing smirk or impish grin. "And I'll do what I can to keep you safe, too." Like often, when she made worse decisions than him. He cared about her as a close friend. Almost as close as Cole would let anyone, anyway. "I will, thank you." He set his teasing grin back in place, relieved she had agreed to be careful, because Cole did not want her becoming the next target. "You got it, boss! And sure, we can do that!"
((I don't want to drag on a scene too long, so perhaps my next post is somewhere out in the city?
i think maybe the alleyways is best, unless you had a different idea?))
((or i could ask bella or rory to create a topic for the flowershop mentioned in the rp?))
((no all good! i just remembered that they decided to go to an actual location lmao
but i think i might post in a pre-existing topic as to not add to their list unnecessarily))
((it’ll be great!
and that’s fine as well!))
(( flowershop you say? i can do that ))
────────────────── END OF ROLEPLAY ──────────────────
𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓸𝓽 𝓓𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓲𝔁
Elliot tossed the small ball he had found into the air, then caught it again. He was currently sprawled across the floor of Cole’s workplace, which was an insane mess, gears lying around everywhere. It reminded him of Antonio's room, actually, minus the gears, of course. Antonio’s mess was made up of sports equipment, and clothes, and when they had been younger, schoolwork. When Cole wasn’t around, coming in here was Elliot’s best bet at being alone, since no one ever seemed to dare to come in. He had no idea where Cole was at the moment, but that wasn’t important. Well, it could be, but he didn’t think he had to worry about Cole being the next victim of this murderer - or murderers. He was 99.9% positive there was more than one. Or maybe more like 98%? Whatever, that was what he was worrying about now. Or, not so much worrying, just trying to figure out his next course of action.
He had been down here for a little while now, and in that time he had managed to gather some intel on Serpentine, yes, but something constantly felt missing about this whole thing. Even if Serpentine was behind these murders, why would they be doing things so much differently than usual? He had dealt with the gang’s crimes before, and this magic-sucking situation was like nothing he had ever heard of before. Apparently, that anyone had ever heard of before. As far as he knew, every single person involved in this case was baffled on that front. Regardless of who was behind this, why would they be doing it this way? Were they just sadistic? But even that didn’t feel like the right answer. There were other slow, sadistic ways to kill people. Even just draining their blood. Why magic? There was something going on here. Something…
He tossed the ball again. He had plans to head down to the Night Market again tonight, it was an excellent source of information, as he had assumed. Maybe he should drop by the Neon Cogs Saloon again. Or maybe the Fighting Ring. Well, he needed to make a decision, he couldn’t afford to keep wasting time here.
He didn’t want to keep wasting time here. He hated just lying around doing nothing. He caught the ball, then sat up, tossing it over his shoulder. It ricocheted off the wall, then bounced along the floor, until it landed in a pile of gears.
He had already been to the saloon earlier with Zak, who hadn’t seemed to care that most would consider it too early to be at a tavern. He hadn’t picked up too much, couldn’t really flirt too much with the bartender when he was with Zak, after all, and casual talk hadn’t gotten him too far, either. Although, to be fair on the whole flirting thing, he had never done more than casually flirt with Zak either. Well, until he had gotten him a drink, that was. But it was casual, Zak knew that, didn’t he? He had to know that. Not that Elliot had explicitly stated that it was.
Great, now he was overthinking things. He definitely had to get out of here. Being idle made his brain work overtime, and nobody wanted that. Well, except when it came to his cases, of course. He really needed a solid lead, here. He had spent plenty of time in Club Serpentine territory, spoken to plenty of Snakes, even managed to fool some into thinking he was a Snake himself, and had learned nothing, if not that if the gang's heads were behind the murders, many of its members weren’t aware of it. Not that he could find a way to get to the heads, who were of course the ones most likely to be behind it anyway. But, really, he was starting to wonder if the Snakes really were the perpetrators here.
But if not them, who?
Well, he wasn’t going to figure that out just sitting here. He stood, glancing down at his outfit: a bright red tee-shirt and ripped blue jeans that seemed to have been splattered with neon paint at some point. Much more Asterath than all black, he was sure. Not that he hadn’t already known that before Cole had criticized his wardrobe choice. Well, this was better than the militia uniform, he loathed having to wear that. He snatched up his black leather jacket, pulling it on. He wasn’t going to stop wearing it, and when paired with colors, it fit in perfectly fine down here.
He picked up his notebook, which he had been using to try to keep track of everything, since he couldn’t exactly make a full-on murder board in the Scorpion Den. That would definitely tip people off. Murder boards actually really freaking helped sometimes. Anyway, the notebook was the next best thing, the question was whether he should take it with him, or leave it here. Leaving it would be careless, but, honestly… He shoved it into his backpack, then swung the backpack onto his back. He glanced at the time. He should probably be getting ready to set up his booth at the Night Market before too long, actually, it was getting late. Keeping track of time was so much harder in Asterath. He should probably grab something to eat, too.
He stepped out of the room, and headed through the Den.
(view spoiler)
✧.*elizabeth✧.* wrote: "((from what isabella and rory wrote i think its connected? i looked at the map too and there seems to only be one club serpentine? idk tho...also cal was ultimately going to figure out the snak..."
((oh thats after. bc news takes a hot second, so our thoughts for timeline were that the august-draven paper was published after cal is rescued, and then later a paper comes out about someone seeing cal leave asterath))
