Who: Raksha and Cordelia When: Nov 17 2013, late afternoon/early evening Where: Seagram Rooftop What: Introspection Rating: Low Status: Incomplete/closed
It was space without the headache of the general public. Disappointing to have the winter time cover blocking out the sharp November air, but at least the sky was visible - gray and rainy as it was. To watch the drops sliding down what seemed to be nothing, see them but not feel the damp on his skin. Skin that was mostly covered for once, a comfortably loose black hoodie over the burgundy t-shirt and workout pants, partially zipped and the hood pulled up. Green partially surrounded him, plants in the garden kept vibrant year round, shielded from the elements. Straight up through the glass was smooth gray of the sky, golden eyes watched the drops splatter against the invisible ceiling, not really seeing them.
Elegant fingers, faintly callused by years of weapon handling, fiddled absently with the engraved silver band on one. The words he knew by touch, could reach each letter by feel alone. The subtle ache was there, like a wound behind the sternum that never quite went away. Wounded, damaged, vicious. Izzy had blunted a few of the edges for awhile, though they had still cut each other with ease on more occasions that most would consider functional. But they'd still made each other not so broken for a time. If he was honest with himself, he missed his twin. Yet he didn't want Aidrian anywhere near Seagram out of sheer protective instinct. The Syndicate was a longterm contract. He knew damn well what he'd signed himself on for. Not so different from the Yakuza in method. At least this time it had been his choice.