xx. my way home is through you

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tag: @rhysand // wordcount: 518

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It'd been a really, really long night, and an even longer morning. Arguably, waking up in a hospital is never fun, but even more so when he considered that instead of being able to come home and rest, he'd be going back to the remains of his apartment. Picking up the pieces of his life, once more. Admittedly, it was starting to get annoying. He was thankful at least, that the photo of Saadia and Helena had somehow found it's way into his jacket, though he had no clue how. That and the vet had seemed pretty reasonable about holding onto Jonah for just a bit longer so he could try to get something sorted out with the living accommodations. Though Ezra didn't even have any idea where to start.[break][break]
The bar, and what used to be the apartment above it, looked way worse than he remembered from last night. Ducking beneath the caution tape line that surrounded the perimeter, he staggered up to the door of the bar, finding it locked. It would've been easy to pick it, but he figured going around would at least prevent someone from interrupting him. With a long sigh, he turned and headed up the stairs to the remains of his flat. As the door swung open, he could look down into the bar from the stairs, seeing the rotted wood and debris strewn around from where he stood above it all. With more grace than one might expect out of him, he climbed his way down, hitting the hardwood floor of the bar below and landing on his feet with a thud.[break][break]
Clothes littered the taps of the bar, where his dresser and clothes hamper had essentially crashed through into pieces. Ezra's brain struggled to delegate and prioritize the tasks at hand. The whole thing was just such a mess. He kicked himself figuratively, for not thinking that plan through. Rhys had gotten away anyways. At least he could've kept his apartment if he'd thought twice at the time. [break][break]
Across the room, a box laid on it's side on the table, the contents strewn about all over the floor. Settling on that, he got to work trying to put the items back into their container. This particular box had been full of personal items he'd been too afraid to look at. Photo albums, Lena's old teddy bear, his old camcorder that still had a memory stick in it containing the videos from Lena's first birthday. Ezra picked each item up like it might attack him at any moment, trying to look at them as little as possible as he put them all away. However, he lingered over the teddy bear. Saadia had made it especially for Lena before she was born. Ezra flinched at the memories it brought back, and tossed it away into the box like it was on fire. As he stared at the collection of objects, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. Doing his best to ignore it, he picked up the box from the table and set it beside the door to the bar.[break]

[attr="class","boxo-notes"]-yeets post at you-

KAY

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[Deleted]

Back at his office/apartment after fleeing the bar, Rhysand used the phone given to him for just such uses to open a secure line to his boss. The laptop in front of him was open with no less than twenty-five tabs, all cross-referencing information that Rhys had cobbled together from the obscure parameters of his mission brief and the flotsam of factoids he'd claimed by sifting through Mournspire's apartment. He should've called in immediately. That's how things went. But Rhys hadn't. Not until he'd come across a specific item in his cybernetic sleuthing. The tragic news article from a Seattle paper was open in front of Rhysand as he demanded to know if his boss had had any idea. But of course he had. The conversation then had been longer than most. Rhysand leveling every expletive he had in his arsenal to color his sentences, and his boss returning it with that collected cool that he always had - that made Rhys's bones jitter. And... at the end of the call, Rhysand was left with a new assignment, which he'd known from the tone alone he had no option but to take. F**k it all, he thought, walking through the streets of Astaria the next morning, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The irony was a b****, wasn't it? Several blocks from his destination, Rhysand paused at a cart selling breakfast burritos. He asked for one, paused, chewed the inside of his cheek, furious at himself, rolled his eyes, muttered another curse, then corrected it to two. He had no love for Mournspire, but anything to make a job he didn't want in the first place a little easier was fine by him. Fifteen minutes later, a burrito, nearly the size of Ezra's forearm, wrapped in foil, hit the ground in front of him. Rhysand dropped lithely through the yawning chasm that was formerly Mournspire's apartment's floor, landed on the bar, then smoothly dropped his legs over the edge, ripping open his own burrito. "Kind of a dumbass move, wasn't it?" he asked rhetorically, looking around at the mess. Rhysand leveled a challenging look at Mournspire, silently pointing out it would be an even bigger dumbass move to start anything between them, but almost daring him to try. Rhys shoved the burrito in his face, ripping off a completely graceless, unapologetic mouthful.

. . . I'VE BEEN RUNNING WILD HAD A GOOD TIME BUT I CAN'T STOP NOW OVER MY HEAD IN THE LANDSLIDE CAN YOU PULL ME OUT? . . . omen @ezra

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As he turned away from the box next to the door, he was greeted with a familiar, however unwelcome face. Ezra leveled a glare at Rhys, glancing down at the neatly foil wrapped cylinder that had just landed at his feet, and back to the other man. For the life of him, he couldn't understand what he was playing at. He was getting whiplash from the constant shift in moods between their interactions. Stooping to grab the burrito, he held it in his off hand, narrowing his eyes at the other man. It crossed his mind that it could be a trap. Maybe it was poisoned or something. On the other hand, self-preservation wasn't very high on his list of priorities, so it almost didn't matter. [break][break]
Involuntarily, Ezra's upper lip twitched, a tic that only surfaced when he was truly annoyed. Stepping forward towards the bar, he set the burrito down on one of the intact sections left near Rhys. Shortly after, his jacket followed. As much as it looked like he was getting ready to fight, he really didn't have the energy, mentally or physically, to deal with the bloke. In a bold move, he turned his back to Rhysand, ambling over to another mess of belongings across the room. Not bothering to dignify the comment with a response, he instead shot back a slightly muffled: "What the bloody hell do you want?" [break][break]
Shuffling some clothes and other items into a barely usable box, he shot a venomous glance over his shoulder at Rhys from where he was crouched, looking back to his personal effects a moment later. The box decided then it had enough, and coming apart at the seems, the contents spilling out over the floor once more. Muttering curses, he lifted his head, staring up at what used to be the ceiling of the bar, as if cursing the universe itself. With full fledged exasperation in his voice, he shot another annoyed look at Rhys. "As you can see, I have shite to do. So unless you're here to apologize or make yourself useful, piss off and stop stalking me. I'm going to have enough of a headache later trying to find a hotel that allows pets and has an open room."

[attr="class","boxo-notes"]salty ezra is fucking hilarious

KAY

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The muscle spasm in Mournspire's lip made absolutely every damn thing worth it. All the hassle and headache from the past twenty-four hours seemed a fair price to pay for that look of dead-eyed murder that Ezra threw Rhysand's way. Somehow, it felt better to make that tweak of his facial muscles than it had to gut punch the drunk. Mournspire stalked closer, but Rhys didn't so much as stiffen. He tore another crude bite from his burrito and, chewing, gave a lopsided, s**t-eating grin at Ezra when the other man put his jacket and breakfast down on the bar. "You're welcome," he chose to say, instead of answering the question leveled at him. The box that Ezra hefted gave a pained creak of defeated cardboard and the bottom fell out, dropping the contents at the man's feet. Rhysand didn't laugh, though. In fact, he just stared at Mournspire with half-lidded, unmoved eyes, like he was saying "yeah, that makes sense." The other man strung together a line of curses, then pitched his voice louder. Rhysand thoughtfully chewed the mouthful of burrito he had, then swallowed it. He held the thing in one hand and leaned back, bracing himself on the other. "S'funny you mention it. 'Cause I came here to be damn useful... Depending on what we're talking about. Definitely not all this s**t," he said, curling his lip at the mess around them. "I'm not some dumbass thief. I'm a PI, and I was digging up s**t on you for my best-paying client. Why? No idea. That's between you and him. But, turns out, he might have some s**t of his own that could interest you. Enough to meet him, at least." Rhys had been thoughtfully looking at the innards of his burrito while he spoke. Now he rolled his eyes significantly on Mournspire's. "I don't think I need to say what about." F**k, he hated going this angle. Even for all the bulls**t he was cutting through, Rhysand still felt like a manipulative little b**h. He just hoped (not that he'd admit it) that all the dumb mind games would be worth it for Ezra in the long run. Find him the person responsible for... Well, you know...

. . . I'VE BEEN RUNNING WILD HAD A GOOD TIME BUT I CAN'T STOP NOW OVER MY HEAD IN THE LANDSLIDE CAN YOU PULL ME OUT? . . . omen @ezra

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With an almost audible click, the realization hit him, as he listened to the brash tone and almost bragging way Rhys spoke to him. He'd been the one who put the photo in his pocket. It might've tugged more intensely at his heart strings if it had been any other situation, but now it just made him furiously angry. Ezra abandoned the collapsed box in favor of whirling around to fully face the other man still leisurely sitting at the bar. His eyes narrowed, shooting another venomous glare at the man, somehow even more murderous than the one before.[break][break]
Stalking his way across the room once more, his fists clenched at his sides, seething with almost visible rage that came out in spiteful, vicious bursts of snark. "Oh? No please, do enlighten me Rhysand." Standing directly in front of the man, he reached forward to curl his fingers into the front of the older man's shirt, grabbing a fistful of the fabric in a death grip. "Please, please tell me all about the shit you dug up on me while you were playing detective. I'm begging you." He sneered, with a harsh bark of laughter. "Tell me about how you dug deep into the most painful experience of my life. Does it feel good? 'Cause I've got news for you, arsehole." His pointer finger jutted forward from the hand not holding Rhys' shirt, "You might think you're holding the cards, but you don't know a goddamn thing about me. You-" His voice broke for a moment, and the grip on the shirt loosened. His hand sunk, falling back to his side and he shook his head, trying to will away the way his eyes were misting up. "You'll never fucking know."[break][break]
Ezra turned, walking back towards the door of the bar and the box that sat beside it. He sat down in a heap, not even bothering to push the rubble out of the way and grab the stuffed animal from the box. It was like his heart was being torn out all over again. With his elbows propped up on his knees, he held the teddy bear in his hands and stared at it for a moment, dropping his head and just letting it hang for a moment. The tears were starting, and he might've been embarrassed if the wind hadn't been taken out of his sails already. "You'll never know how awful and helpless it feels. Seeing the only family you've ever had torn away from you. Burying your partner and...and..." His voice warbled for a moment, and he tried to breath slowly, "...and your child. God fucking damn it. Oh but what do you fucking care."[break][break]
The bear dropped out of his hands, and he reached up to try and push the tears away with his palm. "Fuck. She was only two years old. What kind of fucking monster..." It was a whisper, more to himself than anything, and he laughed desperately, trying to reign his emotions back in. Ezra's hands threaded in his disheveled hair, gripping tightly at it, enough to feel the strain on his scalp. "I'd do anything. Anything just to know how it feels to strangle the bastard. I'd happily go to jail for the rest of my life if it meant watching the life die from that mother fucker's eyes."

[attr="class","boxo-notes"]>.>

KAY

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The anger was so strong that Rhysand could hear Mournspire's heart hammering against his ribs. He stalked like a beast through the wreckage, and when the distance was eaten up, Rhys's shirt was snared in his shaking fist. The PI watched with even eyes as, an inch from his face, Mournspire erupted, molten hatred speckling Rhysand's cheeks along with flecks of spit. Rhys maintained his control. He didn't think for an instant that Ezra would actually strike him. More than Rhysand would want to acknowledge, the raw and unfettered emotions pumping through Mournspire alarmed him. He wasn't used to seeing that kind of vulnerability - even if it was a raw, jagged, hostile sort. Each word slung, Rhys committed to memory, turning it over, sizing it up. Ezra's fire sputtered, plunging him into more icy despair instead. Rhysand watched, not saying a word, not letting his expression change the littlest bit from neutral, as Mournspire stumbled over to a place in the ruin, collapsed and clutched a stuffed animal to it. Rhys's throat was dry, driven parched by Ezra's outburst. By the dark spots on his soul that they revealed. Out of discomfort with the whole thing, and a cluster of odd emotions he, himself felt well up in response to Mournspire's pain. But Ezra was settling into bitter, cold, murderous determination. And Rhysand wasn't about to say anything compassionate or supportive or reassuring back. That was against his nature, no matter how well or poorly he and Mournspire knew each other. Rhysand stood and crumpled the wrapper of his burrito, the sound and motion drawing the taller man's attention. "Then quit f**king talking about it, and come on." He plucked Ezra's coat and burrito from its place on the bar and tossed them one-at-a-time to the other man. "This crap isn't going nowhere." With that, Rhys turned and went to the back of the pub, opening it with little issue. He begrudgingly made sure Mournspire was in tow, then stuffed his hands in his pockets and started gruffly leading the way down the sidewalk of the street outside.

. . . I'VE BEEN RUNNING WILD HAD A GOOD TIME BUT I CAN'T STOP NOW OVER MY HEAD IN THE LANDSLIDE CAN YOU PULL ME OUT? . . . omen @ezra

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Altogether, the whole paradigm shift in emotions exhausted him further than he already was. To say he hadn't been taking care of himself the last six months would be an understatement to the nth degree. That added with the fight last night, and the emotional turmoil he'd just released took a lot out of him, so by the time he heard the crinkling of the wrapper, he was no more than a shell looking up at Rhys from his place on the floor. He looked like he hadn't slept in years, on top of the red tear stained rings around his eyes, and his busted lip that had split open once more.[break][break]
Shakily he got to his feet, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes to try and chase off any lingering traces of tears. As his hands fell to the side once more, he just narrowly avoided dropping his jacket as it was tossed to him, easily catching his breakfast right after. With a lingering look at his surroundings, he trailed slowly after Rhys. Not quite hesitating, he didn't have the energy required for that, rather struggling to kick start his body into moving once more. As he began to walk, he easily kept pace with Rhys, although his stride was more to credit for that fact rather than enthusiasm. [break][break]
As they walked, the numbness seemed to seep back in, medicating the pain just enough to make it manageable, but not to a degree where he felt like talking again. Ezra's internal monologue helpfully added that Rhys was probably grateful for the silence. If he'd had any self-preservation left, he might've trifled with the worry of where they were going exactly, but he was too far gone to care at this point. His hair had fallen into his face, and he carelessly pushed the dark disheveled mess with it's lone white tuft out of his eyes.[break][break]
Returning to some mimicry of his normal self, he chanced a glance at Rhys, letting his eyes fall to his feet once more quickly. "I uh..." His voice came out strained, choked, and he tried to properly wrangle the words out for a moment before clearing his throat and starting again awkwardly. "Sorry for being such a prick, an' all that." It was a piss poor attempt at an apology, and he was sure both of them knew it, but he figured it was due. Now that he'd basically exposed all the raw and harsh edges lurking beneath his aloof and ragged exterior, he figured there was nothing left to hide at this point anyways. Like a sore thumb however, a thought stuck out to him, wondering why he even gave a shit what the other man thought. He didn't have an answer for that.

[attr="class","boxo-notes"]u.u

KAY

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Together, the two unlikely companions stalked through the streets. Rhysand had long ago mastered the speedy march of New York City foot traffic, and those skills translated perfectly to Astaria. The kind of tread that got you from point A to B as quick as feet could; the atmosphere that shirked all interaction with passersby - even beggars and solicitors checked themself before interrupting him; anonymous enough to not be remembered, notable enough to make room for. Rhys was starting to hope, even if he knew that hope was stupid, that they'd make it all the way to his apartment without having to suffer through any kind of smalltalk. That hope was dashed when, after a few blocks, Mournspire tried to speak, stopped, cleared his throat and began again. Rhysand rolled his eyes, a half-step in front of Ezra and therefore out of sight. Talking in general started to irritate him. But then Mournspire's words caught that annoyance and traded it for wary curiosity. He would've lost money, betting on what Ezra was gonna say. "Save it," Rhysand said, gruffly, to the apology that threatened to trip him up. "I'm sure you're not done being a prick, so just put it on your tab." The foot traffic was starting to pick up by that point. Bodies pressed in close around the two men, and the ambient noise and general tunnel-vision mentality discouraged further conversation. Rhysand was glad for it. Soon enough, they were mounting the stairs into his apartment building's foyer, hopping in the small, narrow, rickety elevator. "Figured you could get your head on straight here, then I'll take you to that client I was talking about," Rhysand explained, leaning his back against one wall of the elevator and scratching at the stubble on his neck with one hand. The elevator dinged open and Rhys lead the way down the equally narrow hall, past door after door, to the one at the very end, facing the lift. Rhysand fit his key in the lock and turned it, grabbing the handle and lifting up to actually get the aged door open. The second the thing cracked open, he stiffened. His radar swept ahead of him into the room, given entry by that modest opening, and painted the main room of the apartment in three-dimensional relief. "Change of plans," Rhys muttered over his shoulder, still holding the door barely open. "Looks like that client came to us." The list of people that could successfully surprise Rhysand was extremely short. But Perses made it. The scent of his cologne - some rich-ass stuff that cost two months' rent per-bottle, he was sure - flooded Rhys's nose. The PI stepped into the apartment, holding the door open for Mournspire, and looked with an even, half-lidded stare at Perses, who sat behind his own desk like he owned the damn place. "Make yourself at home," Rhys said to the older man, silhouetted against the window behind him, dry and waspish and packed with his displeasure at the unannounced intrusion.

. . . I'VE BEEN RUNNING WILD HAD A GOOD TIME BUT I CAN'T STOP NOW OVER MY HEAD IN THE LANDSLIDE CAN YOU PULL ME OUT? . . . omen Perses

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[Perses]

Everyone had a role to play in all things and that included the boss himself. How long had he been in Rhysand's home, waiting for the two to arrive? If he admitted, he knew the home's owner would get even more uncomfortable. But there was so much you could learn about someone, so much control you could gain over them, by looking through their home. The briefcase was set on the desk before he took a seat behind it. He leaned back in the chair, all too comfortable, dressed in a three piece suit as if he were attending a funeral. He was a patient man who had a lot of matters handled by other people, leaving free time to sit and wait. He hadn't bothered to try to hide any evidence that he'd shifted through the residence - an item no longer in the same placement. No, he wanted it known that he'd looked. Rhysand was part of the Cabal, yes but more as a contractor. His loyalty was a bit looser than others under Perses' thumb. So he had to make it clear he could get to him. He had to make it clear that nothing in his life was outside of his reach. The second he heard the key, his powers got to work, darkening the room significantly around the edges, making it to where it'd be hard to focus their eyes on anything in the room outside of him and themselves. He rested his arms on the arms of the chair, hands clasping together over his lap. "Ezra Ehron Mournspire," he spoke the name with the familiarity of someone who'd known it all of his life - even if he hadn't. Presentation was key, after all. "It seems Mr. Scarborough managed to track you down." He grinned - a look that made it clear he knew all the cards he possessed in his hands and all the cards in his deck. "Why don't we have a little discussion." It wasn't a request.

... your guns are loaded and your lies are the bullets. so here is the trigger, go ahead and pull it ... perses @ezra outfit described in post 333 words n/a

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tag: Perses // wordcount: 487

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At the gruff response, he gave an amused snort. The feeling caught him off guard, and dragged him haphazardly from death's door for now it seemed. Falling back into silence, he weaved around the foot traffic, following Rhys up the stairwell to a separate apartment complex. Pressing into the lift, he had to duck his head just so to narrowly avoid hitting his head. Ezra was pleasantly surprised the thing even worked still.[break][break]
The silence between them was broken, and he turned his head to look at the shorter man as he spoke. He only managed to nod silently in response, eyes following Rhys' hand as he scratched at the scruff on his neck, his own throat going strangely dry in response. Ezra chalked it up to the way the cramped elevator made him feel. He historically wasn't a fan of small spaces. It was a short ride though, even if it felt like hours with the rickety state of the tiny box. He was startled out of the trance by the chime of the lift, and for a moment had to remember where he was, quickly falling into step behind Rhys once more in eagerness to escape the claustrophobic space.[break][break]
As the door was being unlocked, he was alerted to the way the other man froze just as he cracked the door, and he tilted his head in curiosity. Following the mumbled syllables, his brow furrowed, curiosity turning to confusion. Ezra opened his mouth, about to ask how he could discern such a thing before they'd even walked into the room, but he was stifled as Rhys stepped into the flat. He followed, feeling a sense of trepidation as he did so, and his eyes fell on the figure sitting at the desk.[break][break]
For a moment he struggled to remember the last time he'd been addressed by his full name, but that was quickly forgotten in favor of sharp laughter. He bent at the middle, giggling like he'd just heard the best joke in the world, and didn't collect himself until a moment later, wiping the tears from his eyes as he took in a breath to try and control his amusement. "I...I'm sorry I- oh bollocks." Another chuckle, and he shook his head, "You just. Ha, fuck." Ezra wheezed and sucked in a breath sharply. "Sorry, I just- you look like a bloody bond villain and I just. I couldn't take you serious, mate." Dabbing at his eyes again with his sleeve, he fanned at his reddened face that was still split with a grin. "My bad. I think I'm good now." He glanced at Rhys, taking in the ever-present scowl, before looking back to the man seated at the desk. "Start again at the 'have a little discussion' bit again, eh?" As he spoke, he mimed along, making a pyramid with his fingers, doing an admittedly piss poor impression of the other man's voice.

[attr="class","boxo-notes"]hi yes ezra, would you like to die?

KAY

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