They always met at the same time. When the sun gave up its light; when the moon returned the favor. Time seemed to still at this hour. Doors were locked, flames were lit. Windows were latched, though that never ended up being much a problem.
Not for him, not for the other. And certainly, she always made sure to keep the handle just a little bit loose.
The window to the balcony swayed open. A light breeze took it the rest of the way, making it bang and flap uselessly against the adorning frame. The air was a chill-cool. Wafting in from a far-off shore that smelt of salt still thick from the day; with the undertone of sticky oil holding. And like the very substance, he came. Birthed from a blackness that he seemed to adore. It crept into his everything - the leather on his legs, the bend of his boots. To the shivering-sharp spikes of his hair.
A criminal to most, a monster to some, and the devil in this would-be meeting of unlikely bed-mates.
Greed ran his fingers down his chest, raising his head to take a look inside. He chased the furthest reaches of the wall. Following where moonlight touched him, turning him an ashy gray. This was the way it had to be; the way she silently demanded it to be. A place of solitude and scheming.
Of which it was a private party of three.
A sliver of gold was pulled from his pocket: his calling card. The coin was small, smooth. Rough at the edges. He placed it on the corner of a desk in plain sight.
Some people were natural sneaks, natural creepers in darkness and shadow. They could be at home in it, at one with it, but that was not true of everyone. Some people hid in plain sight; they blended in with the crowd.
But others could hide at the center of that crowd, at the center of attention, and he was one of them. He was not someone able to wait quietly or arrive secretly.
He was not carried on a salt-rich air from the sea, air that smelt of tar and oil and sweat. He arrived on a breath of sugar-sweetness, on air warm from the bakers ovens, on honeyed over-tones and the hint of vanilla spices. And he'd arrived hours ago, laughing and drinking and telling stories under a high-roofed hall, hidden in plain sight.
Now darkness had well and truly fallen however, and his companions had taken themselves to bed- theirs or someone else's, or settled onto the floor in content stupors, he was free to go as he pleased. He moved as if he owned the place, a certain swagger in his walk as he headed down corridors, slipped through doorways and up stair-cases. And then he was there, a familiar door with it's familiar tapestries on either side, and despite the best advice in the land, unbarred.
It would always be trickier for her in some ways, to slip away. Not that there were more or less demands on her time, simply that she was so very constantly surrounded by people, but friend and foe. They watched her, constantly. One little misstep was enough to them, she knew.
It made her bold most often, if they were going to look, she would give them something to look at. She must glitter and shine and be as much like staring into the sun. Which most often, was tiring if grand, but it had some benefits. Queens did not skulk, did not hide themselves away.
The expectation meant she slipped by guards easily enough. Hood pulled down and her red, red hair tucked away. She did not look so much for confirmation as she simply knew they would be there. The door pulled free, and she stepped through. A smile playing quietly as she pulled back the hood, content for however long to simply be away from responsbilities. "Good evening." The door clicked shut behind her, and she leaned on it. Content for a moment to do nothing more than look at them both. "I see I am last again, as usual."
It smelled sickly sweet; the way the three of them entered, all from different corners, different lives. The rich trickle from Gabriel, the subtle waft of the hourly Queen. And him. Greed peeled away from the shrink of shadow, his toothy grin the only thing giving him away.
"It's not like we don't have the time, lovely."
He stepped without a whisper. Every clack of his heel an announcement, a punctuation. It was the practiced waltz of a predator - of a creature that lived for the underbelly. That was trained on instinct to hunt and hunt he did. But not like his kin; not like the one who had made him. Instead, Greed slunk like a feline in waiting. Shoulders dipping and rising as he spine easily loosened. He touched up the leather of his thigh, running streaks that groaned against his rough-smooth fingertips.
They intersected like the triangle they were and Greed made the last point. An acute shape that could have been symbolic. A thumb fell loosely into the loop of his slacks, then the other. As flame caught in his sunglasses. Licking at the black glass before racing across the stark-silver trim. "And we don't exactly have unwanted company," Greed charmed from his throat. He could easily slip away from business and no one questioned. No one dared.
They knew that the boss had business on the other side of town. And it wasn't something to pry too deep into.
The homunculus raised his chin, seizing the opportunity to flick a glance between the powers. The arrangement was simple, the entanglement anything but. They were a trifecta; a struggle of rising powers that somehow found a common goal.
Oh, you could make a case for it being complicated, you could say it was tricky, even, but for Gabriel it was the simplest thing in the world. He enjoyed their company. There was a little back-scratching going on, sure, but that's what you did or you might find yourself without any of the blankets next time they found themselves together.
"Glad you could slip away, Queenie." Gabriel said brightly, moving towards her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "It's never exactly the same without you." Maybe in that dim light she noticed the wink, maybe not, but it was implied with his teasing tone.
There was something to be said about this meeting in darkness, the room barely light. All this sneaking around might have been better suited for people whose purposes weren't exactly kosher, but although there was the embodiment of Sin, Greed wasn't exactly evil. And Gabriel thought that he pretty much balanced it out. Having a Queen along for the ride- one that was Head of the Church too- probably tipped this little meeting into the realm of almost saintly.
...Depending on exactly what those saints got up to, of course.
"And now we three are here," Gabriel said, grinning. "I'll get the drinks. Usuals?" Wine for her, rich and deep and old but not too dry, something fit for a Queen. Scotch for him- something with a kick, a bite that he could bite back, something that got those feet tapping. And for himself something sugary sweet, thick. Not that it said much about him.
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The Trifecta | CLOSED
Not for him, not for the other. And certainly, she always made sure to keep the handle just a little bit loose.
The window to the balcony swayed open. A light breeze took it the rest of the way, making it bang and flap uselessly against the adorning frame. The air was a chill-cool. Wafting in from a far-off shore that smelt of salt still thick from the day; with the undertone of sticky oil holding. And like the very substance, he came. Birthed from a blackness that he seemed to adore. It crept into his everything - the leather on his legs, the bend of his boots. To the shivering-sharp spikes of his hair.
A criminal to most, a monster to some, and the devil in this would-be meeting of unlikely bed-mates.
Greed ran his fingers down his chest, raising his head to take a look inside. He chased the furthest reaches of the wall. Following where moonlight touched him, turning him an ashy gray. This was the way it had to be; the way she silently demanded it to be. A place of solitude and scheming.
Of which it was a private party of three.
A sliver of gold was pulled from his pocket: his calling card. The coin was small, smooth. Rough at the edges. He placed it on the corner of a desk in plain sight.
It was only a waiting game now.
no subject
But others could hide at the center of that crowd, at the center of attention, and he was one of them. He was not someone able to wait quietly or arrive secretly.
He was not carried on a salt-rich air from the sea, air that smelt of tar and oil and sweat. He arrived on a breath of sugar-sweetness, on air warm from the bakers ovens, on honeyed over-tones and the hint of vanilla spices. And he'd arrived hours ago, laughing and drinking and telling stories under a high-roofed hall, hidden in plain sight.
Now darkness had well and truly fallen however, and his companions had taken themselves to bed- theirs or someone else's, or settled onto the floor in content stupors, he was free to go as he pleased. He moved as if he owned the place, a certain swagger in his walk as he headed down corridors, slipped through doorways and up stair-cases. And then he was there, a familiar door with it's familiar tapestries on either side, and despite the best advice in the land, unbarred.
He let himself in.
no subject
It made her bold most often, if they were going to look, she would give them something to look at. She must glitter and shine and be as much like staring into the sun. Which most often, was tiring if grand, but it had some benefits. Queens did not skulk, did not hide themselves away.
The expectation meant she slipped by guards easily enough. Hood pulled down and her red, red hair tucked away. She did not look so much for confirmation as she simply knew they would be there. The door pulled free, and she stepped through. A smile playing quietly as she pulled back the hood, content for however long to simply be away from responsbilities. "Good evening." The door clicked shut behind her, and she leaned on it. Content for a moment to do nothing more than look at them both. "I see I am last again, as usual."
no subject
"It's not like we don't have the time, lovely."
He stepped without a whisper. Every clack of his heel an announcement, a punctuation. It was the practiced waltz of a predator - of a creature that lived for the underbelly. That was trained on instinct to hunt and hunt he did. But not like his kin; not like the one who had made him. Instead, Greed slunk like a feline in waiting. Shoulders dipping and rising as he spine easily loosened. He touched up the leather of his thigh, running streaks that groaned against his rough-smooth fingertips.
They intersected like the triangle they were and Greed made the last point. An acute shape that could have been symbolic. A thumb fell loosely into the loop of his slacks, then the other. As flame caught in his sunglasses. Licking at the black glass before racing across the stark-silver trim. "And we don't exactly have unwanted company," Greed charmed from his throat. He could easily slip away from business and no one questioned. No one dared.
They knew that the boss had business on the other side of town. And it wasn't something to pry too deep into.
The homunculus raised his chin, seizing the opportunity to flick a glance between the powers. The arrangement was simple, the entanglement anything but. They were a trifecta; a struggle of rising powers that somehow found a common goal.
He sucked in his lower lip briefly.
no subject
"Glad you could slip away, Queenie." Gabriel said brightly, moving towards her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "It's never exactly the same without you." Maybe in that dim light she noticed the wink, maybe not, but it was implied with his teasing tone.
There was something to be said about this meeting in darkness, the room barely light. All this sneaking around might have been better suited for people whose purposes weren't exactly kosher, but although there was the embodiment of Sin, Greed wasn't exactly evil. And Gabriel thought that he pretty much balanced it out. Having a Queen along for the ride- one that was Head of the Church too- probably tipped this little meeting into the realm of almost saintly.
...Depending on exactly what those saints got up to, of course.
"And now we three are here," Gabriel said, grinning. "I'll get the drinks. Usuals?" Wine for her, rich and deep and old but not too dry, something fit for a Queen. Scotch for him- something with a kick, a bite that he could bite back, something that got those feet tapping. And for himself something sugary sweet, thick. Not that it said much about him.