dancing with the devil ♕ icarus & emie [jb]

dancing with the devil ♕ icarus & emie [jb] Jun 6, 2021 23:35:15 GMT -5

Post by 4m dagger thane 🗡jay on Jun 6, 2021 23:35:15 GMT -5

Today was a fucking glorious day.

Once again, my raggedy-ass aunt is gonna have to watch one of her stains on our bloodline come home in a casket. Now that is what I call divine-fucking-retribution. Too bad Ridley couldn't be buried with them, but hell I guess you can't win 'em all.

If it was up to me I wouldn't be in the Justice Building right now, leaning against a marble column with a cigarette hanging off my lips. They're wretched little things, but if I was gonna have to speak and look at my dreadful cousin then I'm gonna need something to keep my breakfast from coming up at the sight of her. The one thing my father has done right, apart from making me, is keep our family separate from my aunt's. I couldn't stand being in a room with Emmett for thirty fucking minutes, how would I have lived with all of them? Hell, I probably would've flung myself off the nearest cliff.

I can't believe father made me come, claimed it would "mean a lot to your aunt if you went". Yeah, well fuck her and fuck all her deadbeat children too, pun intended. A third dead child after four games should help her next mayoral campaign though, everyone loves a sob story - eugh, but if it was all some spectacle to boost her ratings then I'd applaud her. Bravo.

This whole affair was a drag. How much longer am I supposed to wait on the darling cousin I don't even want to see? I'm not even sure who the hell the blonde I was waiting to finish was, could be another one of my aunt's children - she already has way too many of the running around - and now that I think about it she did have that nasty look about her that they all share too. Could also be some random girl with no weight to her name, definitely the kinda sort Emerson would consort with. Emmett was like that as well, but you know too bad he's six feet under.

"Fucking finally," I spat when the door to Emerson's holding room clicked.

I didn't bother to look at who left the room as I strode over to the door. The peacekeeper, who had been stationed right beside the door, shifted in his place and blocked the door as I tried to enter. He pushed his dirty, leather-clad fingers into my chest.

"Ah, ah, ah," I stammered, "No touching the suit. I just bought it." The fucking audacity.

"That-" he pointed towards the lit cigarette that hung out of my mouth, "-can't go inside." I took one last drag before snuffing it out on the marble column. I let the cigarette bud hit the floor. "Pick that up for me will ya?" I cock my head to the side and send the keeper a lazy grin before pushing past him towards the door.

I had already saw what Emerson was wearing when she walked up the stage, and lemme tell you it was ghastly. Harper must've dressed her. I'm mean - yikes. It was quite obvious that I was the only one who had been blessed by the gods.

"Well damn," I plaster my best fake grin on my face, "I just wanted to see you alive before you get shipped home in that casket. That casket did not do Emmett any justice at all - actually nothing could make Emmett look good - but you have fantastic cheekbones. Try not to get them too damaged before you die, it's the only thing saving your face."

And when I cock my head to the side and grin, it's all joy.

dancing with the devil ♕ icarus & emie [jb] Jun 7, 2021 16:52:41 GMT -5

Post by alex 🐺 on Jun 7, 2021 16:52:41 GMT -5

Emerson had expected Mom and the endless retinue of her siblings. It was nearly becoming rote for them. The goodbyes and the promises and the hugs. She should be used to it by now, really.

She isn't.

The door swings closed after Cordelia and she hangs her head, her shoulders aching and a knot forming between her shoulder blades. She was tired. Tired of the goodbyes, the false hope, the bland words.

She needed a cigarette and a shot would hopefully end her evening with someone's head between her legs. She wondered if maybe—mmm, a girl could dream.

But the one person that she hadn't expected was Icarus.

Probably because his head was shoved too far up his ass that the couldn't see the sunrise, let alone anyone else in front of him save for his own fucking reflection. His dad must have put him up for this, she thinks, the door banging open. She smells his cologne, the scent registering even as his voice booms around the room. He's in some godawful fucking suit, every bit the arrogant asshat.

He looks like his birthday come early, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

"Well damn. I just wanted to see you alive before you get shipped home in that casket. That casket did not do Emmett any justice at all - actually, nothing could make Emmett look good - but you have fantastic cheekbones. Try not to get them too damaged before you die, it's the only thing saving your face."

She moves without thinking, hopping off the desk as if on autopilot and swinging wildly at the sack of skin and bones that he called his face.

She'd sparred enough with Harper to remember the basics—curling her fingers, thumb on the outside of her fist between the index and middle finger. But everything else goes out the window the moment that her fist connects with his face. Because—fucking hell that hurts. She gazes down at her knuckles that are red and raw, littered with rings, cuts along each metacarpal. She's still clutching Mom's stupid necklace, the chain dangling from her hand.

"Maybe you should be more worried about your own face than mine." she seethes, jaw set and teeth aching from holding everything together for hours now.

Her rage burns out of her like a supernova and her chest expands and shrinks like a black hole, leaving dust behind in its wake where her heart used to be. Where it had been before Emmett had left. How quickly she oscillates between loathing and love.

"It should have been you, Icarus! You fucking prick. It should have been you and not him! But you're just a coward in designer clothes."