Arkin Ford (insidiousmind) wrote in savingthegames, @ 2014-05-31 15:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | arkin ford, chase beckett |
Who: Arkin & Chase
What: Reuniting and it feeels so gooooood
When: Sunday Afternoon; June 1st
Where: Secret Unknown Location in Haven a.k.a. The Lair
Warnings: Arkin & Chase
Status: Ongoing
Arkin rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyelids with a bruising pressure as the electric bulb hanging over his desk flickered. The man’s eyes closed in perfect time to avoid the nuisance though the effort would have been moot point if he simply replaced the faulty light. But with great power came the staggering ability to avoid such nuisances until someone else came along to fix it. Not that he’d had many visitors since he set up shop after being released. One notable exception being the former Jack Frost who had spent three days in lock up. The right corner of his lips quirking upward at the memory, her screams pleasant, but more for the remembered feeling of being one step closer to the End. One person stronger in his personal war against an enemy that only he could see coming. An event that would end everything for everyone, but if things were adjusted and fate swayed into his favor the costs would be minimal. And his burden would be over, one way or another.
Three seconds later the light shone steadily as the current regulated. Arkin blinking tired eyes open to stare at the files spread over his desk. Faces of current prospects along with details of their history that could be helpful in collecting them staring back at him. His mind assimilating the information and filtering the weak from the strong, the proven from those that needed a firmer guiding hand. Everyone ranked by their usefulness and put into place in thousands of different variations as Arkin sat there. Elbows planted on his desk, his chin resting on the clasp of his hands as his eyes stared into the vast probabilities of the future and watched it dance. Bend, sing, but still at the End of Days all the threads snapped. Total and complete death.
The same damn thing, over and over again.
Paper danced, free falling in the air before the pages collapsed lifelessly on the ground. Arkin’s desk clean, but his fists tight. A growl barely held back behind clenched teeth because time was running out and he still didn’t have the proper counter move. The linchpin that would make all of their efforts successful and he wanted to tear something apart just to hear the sound of it break. Instead he took a breath and stood up. Walking around his desk and over the mess of information to stare at the wall to his right filled with countless pictures clustered and taped in a chaotic order spanning the majority of the wall’s surface. No words added, just visual references as he tried again to imagine a future worth saving for people he could hardly relate to anymore.