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#Ruiark
squiishiichaos · 4 years
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I love the differences in character playlists. I'm listening to Bibi's playlist in lieu of making one for Ruiark, and I love, just love, how different hers is from Demitri's is from Zhong's. Hers are all female empowerment songs, fight songs, and not my problem style songs, demitri's are a mixed bag. There are dlsome songs about his relationship with Zhong, and a bunch about finding oneself, along with encouragement songs. And Zhong's are just...i don't care and sociopath anthems, along with, you cant kill me before i kill you jams.
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squiishiichaos · 3 years
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OT3 Challenge Day 1: Meeting
So, is she the one?” Tamar giggled at the whisper by her ear. The music was low in the tavern, the musicians just starting to work up a sweat after a couple hours of build up. People of all shapes and sizes were getting swept up in the groove--except her. The Mercenary. Tamar’d only seen her in here twice, but both times made a special part of her quiver. There was just something about the cut of her dark brown eyes that spoke to the great lengths she would go to not socialize with a single person in here and she wanted to see just how far that meant.
“Oh, yeah, that’s her.” Licking her lips, Ruiark had to tighten his arm around her waist not to get lost in the throng of patrons between them and the bar. As they got closer, those sharp eyes cast a dark glare her way, weight shifting with the impatience of someone who was very much done with a conversation that hadn’t even begun. “Well, well, well! Long time no see--”
“What are you still doing here?” She asked, tone harsh and expression harsher. “My boss told you to leave.”
“Technically,” Tamar argued, “your boss told me to fuck off. Those two are not necessarily the same.”
“Actually, they are. Now, I recommend you get before I have to throw you out.”
“Please,” Ruiark snorted, “don’t threaten us with a good time! We’ve been talking about how you’re gonna see us out all night! See, I told Tamar here--”
“I cannot even begin,” she boredly drawled, “to explain how many fucks I do not give.” She pulled her long, sakura-pink waves back into a messy bun and said, “I’ll give you to the count of three before I start breaking bones.”
“Really? We’re already to boning? That was fast!” Ruiark giggled, resting his chin on Tamar’s shoulder, completely unconcerned with the malice wafting off their target. “Hey, Mercenary, mind telling me why you’ve got such a stick up your ass for Tamar?”
“Yes.”
Tamar gave Ruiark’s blond locks a scratch and lamented, “her boss and my boss have this serious hate between them. They both think I’m here to try and get him to talk to my boss--”
“--Because you are--”
“--But I keep tryin’ to tell her that I’m done with that! I mean, my boss prol’ly ain’t, but I’ve got bigger things to worry about. Like you,” she said, giving the Mercenary another frightful smile. “We’ve had so many arguments and you’ve already thrown me out five times, but I still don’t know your name! Don’t you think that’s a little tragic?”
“No, what’s tragic is that you still keep coming back. Are you really that desperate?”
“This ain’t about desperation,” Tamar reasoned with a smile. “I just like ya, is all! I mean, I’d prefer to date you, but I’m fine with being friends if that’s all ya wanna give me!”
“Or just a name,” Ruiark offered up as a third option.
“Or just a name works, too. I’m not picky, I promise.”
The Mercenary gave her wink another cold look. She remained quiet for a few moments before her posture loosened and her arms crossed. Leaning against the wall at her back, she hiked her foot up on the counter and huffed a breath. “You’re really not here for him anymore, are you?”
Tamar rolled her eyes with a crooked smile. “I already told you that.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, “but you mean it. You’re really just here to bug me.” Sighing, she closed those mean eyes of hers and leaned her head back until it met the wall with a light thud. Opening them again, she looked upon Ruiark and Tamar with a rather strained glance, like she would very much regret what she was about to say. “Larceny. My name’s Larceny.”
“Ooh, a deadly name for a deadly girl! Me likey!” Tamar clapped.
Ruiark offered her a manic grin and said, “nice ta meet cha! I’m Ruiark and this here is--”
“Tamar,” Larceny said, wooing her ears with the sound of her name off those normally losed lips, “we’ve met.”
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squiishiichaos · 3 years
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Do you guys wanna hear a cute fact about my characters?
When Ruiark shares the couch with Demitri (because Demitri, like, only sleeps on Couches), he just sleeps on top of him like a human blanket, and Demitri, resigned to his fate as a human pillow, just sleeps with his arms wrapped around him so Ruiark doesn't accidentally roll them off to the floor.
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squiishiichaos · 3 years
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OTP Challenge Day 1: Meeting
Demitri was busy heating water for tea when he felt his presence behind him. Rolling his eyes, he dialed back the heat beneath his stone and wiped his hands irately on a cloth. “Ruiark, I told you--” But it wasn’t a blonde braid and flirtatious grin that greeted him, but black curls curtained over an intense black leer. Feeling his heart stutter in his chest, he turned to face this newcomer with his hands clutched about the cloth in their grip. “Oh, uh, hello...a-are you here for tea, too?”
The Stranger said nothing. Slanted black eyes remained glued to his green ones like obsidian scalpels pressed to the taut skin of his neck. Even from across the kitchen, it was like he was right there, pressing his back hard to the counter, constricting the air from his lungs, daring his heart to try and beat out of his chest. The way he moved was like a shadow--graceful, swift, silent--uncaring of the obstacles in its path. He strode into Demitri’s space and reached for something over the hot stone, but Demitri acted quick to grab his arm, worrying, “careful, that’s--”
Fingers closed one at a time around his wrist, light in a way that was more unnerving than if he snapped his bone right there. A warning sat firm in the look those dark eyes offered him, slowly lowering both their limbs away from the steam and back between them. Their eyes remained locked even as that hand slid up to his thumb and carefully peeled it off dark skin. Demitri instinctually took his hand back and cradled it close to his chest lightning quick, swallowing hard and offering a nervous smile. Taking a step back, he pressed against the wood of the counter and tilted his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve, I was just--”
He jumped when the kettle shrieked, pulse pounding up into his ears. He turned to grab at it with a pained hiss before he managed to grab the handle and quickly pull it from the stone. Shaking out his burned fingers, he turned to the stranger and stopped when he found the room empty behind him. Blinking, Demitri looked down at his hand and pressed his fingers to his wrist. The phantom caress lingered on his skin like ice beneath the hot cut of pain. He looked back at the dimly lit room and wondered, who the hell was that?
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