She had Belle under saddle for a total of five minutes before the bronzed mare had begun to fuss and try her hand (hoof?) at bossing the teen on her back around. Tryst had let her have a moment to be a diva before promptly ending the tantrum.

“Old girl in your world you may be older than me but that just simply isn’t the way this works.”

Tryst muttered as she eased in the mare into a smooth trot down the lane. She had opted to take the golden lady for a stroll by the pastures to sight see (truly it was so Tryst could ogle at the handsome geldings presiding there).

When they passed the pasture Krigare was rolling in he lifted his head to offer his girl a brief whinny before laying his head back in a puddle of mud that Tryst knew was gonna be hard t0 clean off of the bay later on. The girl smiled and rolled her eyes before kicking up the pace to give the mare beneath her a good stretch of her legs.

The rest of the ride went without too many issues and the girl ended up enjoying herself more than she usually did on exercise rides. Hell, she even ended up enjoying the clean-up and cool down period of showering and restalling the diva mare who was more than happy to get it over with in exchange for food. When all the chores were said and done Tryst made her way to the riders lounge to log her chores and their completion. She grabbed her mossy green puffer vest she loved oh so much and headed out of the barn as she shrugged it onto her shoulders.

The sun was foolingly bright despite the cool weather and Tryst shuddered when she met the cool air of the front lawn. Two cars she hadn’t recognized were parked. One a deep brown bronco who’s presumed owner was chasing after Heather and another that was already rolling away from the Estate when Trystan looked back too it.

“zu schnelle Arschlöcher!“ Tryst muttered with a shake of her head. Whoever it was may not have stayed but their passenger had and the woman left behind looked utterly lost and stressed. With no help in sight Tryst made her way towards her, offering a small wave once she was within sight distance oft he girl and her

steed.

She called as she approached. Normally she would shake the girls hand but instead she reached for her fallen bag and hoisted it upon her shoulder. She grabbed some tack as well before turning her gaze once more tot he girl who seemed nice enough.

Her brow raised and she smiled as she managed to finally extend a hand for the other to shake. She hadn’t reached for the dark horse yet as she was new and knew that the equine might not have reacted too well to a stranger. Instead she focused her attention on his presumed owner.

Heather Proudstorm | 22 | Eventing | Titanium "Storm" and Open | School Horse: WO Descendants Of Khan "Khan" | M: Shiloh, Open

Emily | Ase, Heather, Tryst

Emily had just put the finishing touches on the decorations in the indoor space when her phone buzzed. Concerned that it may have something to do with the wedding or with Camden, who was being watched by a few of the younger barn kids, she checked it immediately. Her phone flashed with the name ‘Heather P. - Whitestone,’ and though it wasn’t urgent, she opened the message to find herself in a group chat with ‘Cam F. - Whitestone.’ Being extremely spontaneous, excitable, and generally not even wanting to find something wrong with the mare, Emily didn’t even open the link before replying. She knew Heather was a very responsible person and had probably done all her homework, and even if she hadn’t, Emily didn’t want to be a buzzkill.

[Emily]: NO WAY! DUH! WHEN DO WE LEAVE? I CAN MAKE TIME RIGHT NOW!

Though this wasn’t exactly true, all she had to do now was walk the signs up to the parking lot that guided the guests in from the road. As she started to make her way up there, she wondered how Magik and Noah were doing. She hadn’t heard from him in a few weeks, but she knew they had been doing incredible things on the eventing circuit. It killed her to think that she’d be wasting her horse’s potential during his prime, so though she missed him, she could sleep at night knowing that he was doing what he was born to do. She wondered if she’d ever get back to where she was again or if she’d be done with riding forever.

Reaching the middle parking lot closest to the barn and the buildings, Emily spotted two younger girls, one shorter brunette and a much taller raven-haired girl. She beamed a bright, happy smile and waved, not recognizing the pair. Because everyone knew her and she knew everyone, she knew the two girls were new.

“Hi, new friends!! It’s so so nice to meet you, if you need help with anything I’ll give you both my number. Oh, here’s my card! One for each of you. Where are you girls in from? Did you come together or did you just make friends?”

there were a lot of things i didn't know about so i left a lot of pieces of this pretty open :))

Rena | Alex <3

She had been staring into Alex’s eyes for longer than she felt preserved her independent, indifferent, cool image. It was valid if her companion being prompted to speak first was anything to go by. He too had been lost in that shared gaze and the tangible, mysterious connection it created between them. She didn’t understand it, and she understood everything. It only made her want to spend more time with him, to dissect every piece of him until she understood why someone who was one shared night in a hallway away from being a perfect stranger made her feel the way he made her feel.

She could only make out his first sentence by reading his lips because the background noise was overwhelming. Then she panicked because she was looking at his lips, and her eyes shot directly back into his. Then they fell away again, anywhere but his eyes. She couldn’t look into his eyes. In a forcibly casual tone, one that seemed to be anything but, Rena replied without looking into his eyes. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. “I see that,” she replied, the slightest smile on her face. Her face still showed surprise and she hated it. Rena Suta would not be seen as surprised or unrehearsed. “You’re here. On time. And you’re dressed nicely. I’m impressed.”

Now she actually smiled at him, warmth in her beautiful brown eyes. She gestured to the seat beside her. The guy in front of them turned around, staring down Alex as he sat down. He had messy blond hair and a straggly feel about him, one that was only magnified when he gestured to a flask he had not-so-secretly hidden in his suit pants, offering it to Rena. “Who’s this guy? I thought that seat was taken already.”

“Alex from Tinder. He’s a, how is it said, dead ringer for my husband, so I made an exception. Andrei would have wanted it this way.” She tried to keep the indifference from falling off her face, but couldn’t help the humored smirk that fell on her face when he offered her the flask. “No thank you, I will say again. I have appreciated the offer all six of the times you have offered your liquor to me but I am still not interested in having any.”

“More for me.” His movements were exaggerated, likely due to the lack of control over his body he had in that indecent state. “He won’t last,” he spat confidently, throwing an arm loosely in Alex’s direction. “So when he doesn’t, you call me.”

Her smirk only grew bigger, more amused than she thought she could be. “I definitely will. You’re a real step up from him, aren’t you?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, and she glanced over at Alex and winked. Then, slightly more seriously, she inquired, “what makes you think he won’t last?”

“Listen here, I’m an expert at reading people. I see things in people they don’t see in themselves.”

“So tell me what you see. I’m sure Alex is dying to know too, we’re both on the edge of our seats here.”

“Carina-”

“Katarena, but go on.”

“Whatever. You need a man who knows what he wants. This guy doesn’t know what he wants, and you’ll be long gone by the time he figures it out.”

“That’s a bold statement coming from someone with three different types of liquor in his flask. At his cousin’s wedding, by the way.”

“Sister’s wedding.”

“That’s worse.”

Before anyone could say anything else, the ceremony began, forcing the bride’s brother to turn back around and focus on the wedding, though he snuck glances back every now and again. Without touching him for fear of making him flinch, Rena leaned in close enough to Alex that he’d be able to hear her. Unintentionally, that was also too close. She could smell his cologne, notice the slightly faster rising and falling of his chest, it was closer than she had expected to be. Still, he needed to be able to hear her despite the sensory overload she was battling internally. “Sorry about him. Being at the back is good for panic attacks and crashing weddings, but it unfortunately places us with these kinds of people.”

Throughout the ceremony, the two of them shared their usual lingering eye contact, faltering smiles, and an added commentary that amused Rena endlessly. She continued to speak with him quietly throughout the wedding.

“Her name’s Claire? Of course it is, look at how caucasian she is.”

“I think I’m going to vomit, but not even from being here, just from her vows.”

“Why does he look like he’s not marrying her for love?”

“How awful do you think their names for their children will be?”

“Pet names are disgusting. Most of love is disgusting. That’s why I’m single.”

“How much longer could these vows possibly be?”

“Ohmygod they’re singing. End this. End it now.”

“Thank God it’s over. This wedding has made me understand why there’s an open bar.”

Finally, the ceremony was over, and reluctantly, Rena gave up her level of closeness to her friend, if she could even call him that. It had become comfortable after a while, she’d gotten used to it in a way that caused her to realize she was going to crave it in his absence. Standing up, she offered her hand to him. “I need a drink, then I need to get as far away from these imbeciles as possible. Are you still up for that walk you owe me?”

…

A small while later, they’d maneuvered their way through the mob of people to the bar, then back out into the beautiful spring evening. All they had readily available were shots, which Rena had consumed after making a comment about what that said about the newlywed couple’s character. While she waited for the effects of the alcohol to kick in, she walked beside Alex, watching a beautiful lavender dusk fade into nightfall. “I’m really glad you came to this trainwreck, I can’t imagine what doing it alone would have been like. So, thank you.” Her eyes met his, and even in the dark, she felt that indescribable feeling of being touched by whatever lingered between them. After a little while of comfortable silence, she said, “given the reason why you agreed to this walk in the first place, I’m going to allocate this time to letting you talk--if you want.” Her tone was still gentle, encouraging but implorative. She would understand if he felt unable to share, but she wanted him to. She wanted some piece of him that could explain exactly what that thing between them was and what it meant. “It doesn’t have to be about your life’s biggest traumas or your biggest secrets, I’m not like that. Just, whatever you want me to know. Tell me like you were talking about a friend you know. Who is Alexander Littlewood? What does he think about? What’s his favorite color? Whatever you want to say.”

After some amount of time, they--or at least Rena--had found themselves appropriately drunk and unable to walk in a straight line, stumbling into each other like a pair of bumper cars, still smiling and laughing, high on the warm spring air and each other. They found themselves sitting on a park bench under one of the streetlights after coming to the conclusion that they shouldn’t be walking around in that state. That feeling that lingered was still there, but in a vulnerable state, she seemed more comfortable acknowledging it, or just being in the presence of it. A lighthearted conversation had found its way back to that contemplative, deep silence that they shared in the hallway that night. Everything about their time together had pointed back to that night, but this time it was sweeter, more familiar, more comfortable. Perhaps it was the greater span of hours they’d spent in the company of one another. Some time passed and Rena’s gaze fell on the ground for a moment, the shimmering of the lights reflecting the contemplative quality in her warm brown eyes. "How are people so confident that they’ve met the one?” She deliberated, eyes flitting about and landing on everything but his eyes.It was the first time she’d avoided them in quite a few minutes and she was too drunk to notice the candidness in her words that was typically masked by at least three layers of painted-on competence, pride, and general facade. “I mean, I thought for sure Max was the one. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, no question. Yet, we broke up so soon, and at first I thought it was just a temporary thing, but then, that night in the hallway, after I came home from the hospital, when he kissed me,” she faltered, not in a particularly hesitant way, just trying to recover an extremely loopy train of thought. “When he kissed me, Alex,” she glanced over at him, seeing if he had been listening to anything she had been saying. “When he kissed me, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Then, more solemnly, more quietly, she added, “I wanted it to be you.” She paused for another moment, trying to regain her train of thought once again. She glanced over at him, looking for clarity. “What was I saying? Oh, right. So, how are you supposed to know? Why did that couple choose to get married tonight, what made them so confident? I don’t think I’ll ever be that confident in someone to commit to them for an eternity like that. There’s too many unknowns.” She glanced over at him again, watching him with that intelligent yet drunken gaze. With one glance it almost appeared she was completely sober. “What do you think about all of it?”

LOUIS WRIGHT | Whoever wants him 😊

The most incredibly bored, would be one perfect way to describe the youth as he lay spread-eagled across the grey duvet, lazily flicking the tennis ball up. His sole aim with every throw was to get it just brush against the ceiling. He hadn’t quite gotten managed to get it perfect yet. Some would fall too short, some would hit too hard and come skyrocketing back at his head, stopped only by the quick reflex of his hands. Huffing in abject annoyance, he launched the ball at the far wall, watching as it bounced back along the floor and came to a slow stop at the foot of the dresser.

Arlette had finally left with Hidalgo the day previous, and wasn’t due back for a good few days. It was almost a relief that he didn’t have to see her sharp frown and hear her sharper criticisms, but as always, he already missed her. Partly because they had always been attached at the hip, but mostly because he would have totally loved it if she could lead all the formal conversations, because he really didn’t want to be the family representative – in any way, shape or form. She had always had that cool, no-nonsense, formal attitude that made people listen to her, without her ever embarrassing herself or having to force herself to be heard.

Actually, upon real thought, Arlette was sort of a middle ground between him and their older brother, Nathaniel. One is carefree, careless and overly friendly. The other is staunch, strict, utterly boring and with no interest in anything – a priest. If it wasn’t for the fact that his older brother’s wife was equally as boring and dense, Louis would have felt pity for her. But even he couldn’t deny that the two were a match in heaven – not many people could tolerate another, equally tedious person whose voice was in a permanent monotone. Louis could still remember their marriage – a dreary, all-white assembly, with no music, or dance, or any games or anything. Just the ceremony, the food and that was that.

Eyes focusing back on the ball, Louis realised that this was the first time he had been alone in a long while. Stretching his arm out, Louis half-slid onto the floor, grunting as he reached for the ball. It was a comical scene that lasted for a good while before he finally got the ball, and wriggled his way back into his original position. He closed his eyes, falling into a light sleep. Staying busy had meant that he hadn’t had time to really reflect on the accident, and understand what had happened, even a year on. Not that he really wanted to; he had made his peace with it and hadn’t let it hold him back.

The immersion happened naturally, without trace of it being a nightmare. It was the same scenario, the snow softly falling all around him, catching on in his hair, melting against his skin. Looking down, he could see how red his hands had gone and admire how he had come out in a rush, with no jacket. The same buildings loomed up in front of him and that paper aeroplane still landed at his feet.

The scene cut off there, with Louis waking up suddenly, spluttering as he realised that he hadn’t been breathing. Breathe in, then breathe out Louis. One, two. A glance at the clock showed that the wedding was due to start in the next hour. Louis himself didn’t know the bride, nor the groom, but the whole occasion seemed like it would be pretty fun. And he would get to see his new friends – if they bothered to attend. Dublin and Wes seemed like they would prefer to stay back, so Louis made note to go visit them afterwards. It was almost – just almost crucial that they knew about what he would see.

Out of the shower, he rubbed away at the mop of semi-curly, damp hair that had built itself into an absolute frizz. One peak into the wardrobe revealed what he wanted to wear: a navy, three-piece suit with a matching tie. It was worthwhile noting that the waistcoat had been deliberately made out of a grey, checked material. That he paired in with his gold-rimmed glasses and a heavy amount of anti-frizz and a blow-dryer. Oh, and a faint spray of cologne – the key factor in any outfit.

Louis had decided to sit in the second row, by a bunch of people he had never met on either side. Not that that stopped him, because he’d easily gotten to know plenty of them in the five minutes before the whole thing started. After that, his eyes had been firmly fixed on the pair as everyone listened to the sermon and took their vows.

It could be considered admirable that the two decided to get serious, tie the knot – which was cool. Something he wanted to do himself, perhaps sooner, more likely later. Whenever the right person came up. Not that it would probably be soon, judging by how his first action after was to go find Reggie at the bar. That was totally a single person thing, going to find your mate to tell him your woes.

the cutest pairing | i’ve ever seen in my life

“There is something greater,” even in the evening light, her eyes were ablaze with the most profound sense of wonder, of light, only second to the tone of her voice. “That feeling you’re describing, it’s the only thing in my life worth chasing. It’s the only thing that reminds me to slow down and stop chasing something, that the something I’m chasing is all around me, it’s everywhere, it’s in our bones as humanity.” She asked him to stop for a moment, still fairly functional at this time but losing her ability to multitask. She pulled the silver ring off of her left ring finger, placing it in Alex’s palm gently. “Read the engraving on the inside.”

...to seek Him the greatest adventure.

“It comes from my favorite quote, but the whole thing wouldn’t fit on the ring. ‘To fall in love with God is the greatest romance; to seek Him the greatest adventure; to find him, the greatest human achievement.’ It’s a reminder to myself to chase that feeling of wonder instead of fleeting things that don’t fulfill me, that are meaningless. It is important to me that everything I do has meaning.”

Slipping the ring back on her finger, she felt the greatest discomfort consume her, borderline humiliation. It was common for her to feel whenever she shared something about herself that she knew disagreed with the company she was with, it made her feel ashamed of who she was and ashamed of sharing something that could be seen as unattractive or unlikeable. Every piece of her wanted--needed--Alex to like her, to open up to her, to love her as deeply as she loved him. She couldn’t afford any more rejection, she knew it would break her. Not that it didn’t always break her, but being rejected by him would shatter her into pieces.

“That’s incredible,” her face lit up for the second time, now because of what he’d said to her. “You haven’t lost it, that the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. God, what I’d give to be inside your mind--to be you--even just for a little bit. In your mind right now I know you’re going ‘no, Rena, you definitely don’t. I have so much pain and trauma that I leave bottled up inside because I’m too afraid to open up to people,’ and, I’m sorry if that was too blunt, I try to soften that, but I still would. I want to see all of it. Everything. I see more than you think, and I think that terrifies you. But it shouldn’t.” She smiled reassuringly at him, in love with the way that his eyes met hers when he desired reassurance. To some extent, that meant that he had to feel safe with her. “Well, what color are you? What color was your friend? When you were together was that those colors combined, like how red and blue makes purple, or was it a completely different color?” What color am I? If she asked it, as much as she so badly wanted to, she felt like he’d assume that she was taking advantage of him. That she was attention seeking, that she was being too much. She was terrified of being too much, of being rejected. So, she continued to inch closer to the edge without falling in, without giving him the opportunity to reject her. She hoped that not asking about herself made her different, made her standout and special in his mind. She would force herself to think that even if logically she didn’t believe it.

“Something about me. Well, I have something similar to your colors, but also very different. When I was younger, I was very shy. People made me anxious, I was too--what’s the word for when you can read people and analyze them? I forget. Anyway, always, when I have been around people, it is like sensory overload. My senses and emotions are very heightened, and if I think about it it is too much. To cope with that, I type people’s personalities. I learned university-level psychology in my free time because school wasn’t challenging enough and it grew from there. But, there’s a lot I conceal, I keep a lot stored in my brain. There’s a certain level of information that people can handle hearing at any given time, and I have to be careful with that. Like I said before, I see more than you think. If I went around saying what I observed, people would probably either be scared of me or upset because I unearthed their deepest traumas. But, give me someone to analyze. I won’t hold anything back.”

Again, that nagging feeling of shame, guilt, humiliation, every negative emotion reflected on image. Maybe that was too much. Maybe she should have just kept it to something about the world. Would an interesting fact about the ocean make him think twice about who she was? Would it make her stand out, would it make her mysterious and intriguing and more desirable than something about herself? She should have just said something about the ocean. Or maybe she should have said something funny, maybe that would make her more endearing. She wished more than anything that there was a backspace button for spoken words, maybe she’d do better the second time around.

---

"Nothing's certain, if we're gonna go there. That's what's so terrifying." His gaze fell away from hers, and she slowly followed it to the treeline, trying not to get too dizzy.

If we’re gonna go there. Her voice was eerily calm, stoic, just stating a fact. “I don’t think we have a choice, love.” It was obvious she wasn’t talking about anything other than the two of them, if only by the way their eyes met, the tone in her voice, her overall demeanor. She paused, then added onto it, only willing to flirt with honesty about her feelings for him. “We’re gonna find ourselves there whether we control it, whether we drag our feet, whether we run towards it at full speed. Some people get there on the express route, some people take miles and miles of detours. The only certainty in the uncertainty is that Point B is where you’re going to wind up, even if you stop there on your way to something you think will be better, than come back. If it’s the right thing, fate doesn’t even have to tell you. You just know, you know that you’ll never find better in this world. Even if you did find better, you wouldn’t want better, because it wouldn’t be a good better. It’d just be better.”

“That makes me disappointed in humanity,” she frowned softly, looking at the sparkling of the sidewalk beneath the light. Something about evening was so magical, so exquisite. It was her favorite time of day, especially during this time of the year. The first signs of warmth after a cold winter filled her with the most inexplicable wonder, just like his winter skies. “I’ve joked before about marrying into a loveless marriage with a closeted gay husband--which would really take more explanation than it’s worth--but I don’t think I could ever spend my life with someone if I knew it would end the way that will end. Temporary happiness, checking boxes, any reason they had to get married doesn’t seem worth it. Maybe it’s the Catholicism speaking, but some people go through marriages like footwear and it just pains me.”

Feeling herself rambling mindlessly, she went quiet for several moments. Then, she adjusted from her position beside him, wrapping her arms around his midsection so she could put her head on his chest. “If you don’t like this, just say something,” she mumbled gently, knowing he wouldn’t. She could hear his heartbeat and feel the gentle rhythm of his breathing, it was putting her to sleep. It had never been more obvious to her that this person was her person, whether he knew it or not. If he didn’t, he was going to have to get on board.

“I’m falling asleep,” she giggled in that childishly melodic way she did when she was tired, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze. They were so much closer than they’d ever been, and it was oddly comfortable. Without the alcohol to numb her senses, it might have made her vomit or pass out, but in this moment, it was absolutely perfect. “Hugo went double clear in all his classes today,” she mumbled, “he won everything. Oh, also, I need everything you know about Magik. I know I shouldn’t be bringing up work while I’m falling asleep in your arms but I have to ride him tomorrow after I get my stitches out and I trust your opinion more than anyone else’s because you know so much.”

She went quiet for a while, listening to the sound of his voice as he gave her the information she asked for. Her eyes were closed but fluttered open every so often, paired with the occasional ‘mhm’ so Alex knew she was still listening. At some point silence fell between them, and she was fairly certain he was watching her sleep. Or, at least, he thought she was asleep. “You do this thing,” she mumbled sleepily, barely coherent, “when you talk to me, you look in my eyes. You want reassurance about whatever you said.” The corner of her lip turned upward in the slightest smile, then fell again when she didn’t have the energy to maintain it. “It’s one of my favorite things.”

[decided this week that someone in here deserved to have my personality typology obsession and who better than my mini-me? the number of things that differentiate me and rena continue to shrink lol.]

Brielle | Louis

Brielle had been walking around with Heidi when they noticed the large crowd of people swarmed over on the farthest edge of the main section of the farm. The Dutch woman was explaining in great detail the new knowledge she’d obtained from some podcast or other she had been listening to, and though she had the best intentions, her French counterpart had totally tuned her out when the information got above surface level knowledge.

Though she’d dragged her friend down to investigate the social situation, they quickly realized that it was a wedding, and neither were dressed well enough to participate in one of those. The ceremony seemed as though it was starting soon, but Brielle knew she could get dressed up and have time to make it to the ceremony.

Dropping Heidi back off at her dorm, Brielle made her way down the hall to hers. She rushed to find something appropriate to wear, settling on an attractive cream-colored dress with pink floral patterning. She brushed her hair out, though she had already done so since it had been in a helmet earlier that day and it hardly needed to be touched up. Due to time concerns, she barely touched on makeup and jewelry, opting to make due with the enhancements she had already made.

Following the signs to the indoor reception, Brielle found her way to the bar. All they were serving were shots, and it didn’t take long for a line of them to manifest in front of her by way of basically any eligible bachelor in the room. Except, like most weddings, most of the eligible bachelors were much older than her and had much more baggage. Not only that, but receiving drinks meant a lot more when it wasn’t an open bar. Even still, she thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it, not reading into any of it too much. If there was a man she liked, she spoke to him, if there was a woman who seemed friendly enough, she spoke to her, too. Brielle was too nice and too pretty to intentionally get herself into any kind of drama, she could typically charm herself right out of it.

At some point in the time she’d spent in the bar, Brielle’s gaze was dragged to the door. A handsome stranger entered, and he was well dressed and the perfect height, in her opinion. If she wore heels, as she was now, he was only a few inches taller than her. And, even from the bar, she could tell he had lovely eyes. He was definitely someone she wanted to talk to, and especially because she’d made her way through all of the interesting people in this crowd already. Finishing her last shot, Brielle got up from the bar, not to the point of stumbling in heels yet. Her alcohol tolerance was very high from hundreds of nights like she knew this one would be. She flashed him a dazzling smile, knowing that was all it would take to get him to come over.

“Are you a friend of the bride or the groom?” She offered her hand for him to shake, as she had done so many times already. Still, she did it excitedly every time--this was her happy place. “I’m Brielle.”

Jack Monarch | Boss, Max. (1400+ words, whew!)

It had been a few hours since the last message had come through to Jack, alerting him that the final stage of the plan would go into motion that evening, that all will be done and finished that night. The plan – to his knowledge – had been planned for a long time coming, since before the target had even set foot in the US. Although, when he had, the plan had to be transferred to be based in the US, instead of the original home-country. Amusing, that the villain had managed to escape justice for that long. At that thought, a sort of smirk brushed by his lips, silenced near immediately. Death, whether justified or not, was still a solemn thing and not something to be amused by.

Despite that moral thought, he did feel almost exhilarated by the whole process – it was like an action movie where he was the main character, saving the world. That in-and-of-itself was so cool! The ultimate move, taking the villain from the back, leaving him in shock. He felt no qualms about being the executioner. The slight pang of nervousness was really due to the fact that the whole thing had been moved forward, due to the wedding giving the perfect opportunity to go undetected. Still, the long hours had made him feel more uncertain about the role, so he had spent the time doing menial tasks to get his mind off it.

But now that everyone was out of the way, he leaned against a barn door, chewing away at a nail, tracing the movement of all the key figures, anticipating the final call that would cause the axe to come swinging down – if everything went perfectly. Although, even if it didn’t, the anonymous boss had said he would clear up the mess left behind, dispatch anyone who got too curious. Checking his watch, he noted that the cameras would have been hacked into and altered to repeat an empty tape of five minutes. That would take security out of the equation and leave him to do as he liked.

The sudden beep of the battered Nokia phone altered him to the call that had come through. He didn’t need to look at it to predict the caller; it was always a gentleman with an incredibly smooth voice, laced with sugar. And poison, even though Jack couldn’t hear that. Jack himself had opted into calling him the Red-X, after Robin’s costume from DC. Red-X had offered him a large sum of quick money, in a trade for the life of Maximillian Petrova. The murder weapon was provided and would also be taken off by an attending guest, and Jack could feel the blade pressing against his chest, even though it was tightly wrapped to prevent any “unexpected” accidents.

Picking up the phone, the voice came through, “Everyone’s ready – now it’s your turn to shine. We have Max in the barn.”

“Absolutely, sir.” A fierce nod.

“Remember, A-56 will be waiting for you in the red Rover.”

Pushing himself off the wall he had been slouching against, he strode up the path towards the location. Sliding in through the doors, he couldn’t immediately spot Max, which sent slight alarms. He wasn’t here – what was he supposed to do?! But as promised, he was there, just merely hidden away within the small tackroom in the far corner. At that realisation, Jack really had a moment of pure relief. Biding his time, Jack took to observing the male, equally staring at him from the distance that same way that he was staring at the opposite wall in silence.

The longer he stood, the more reflective Jack’s face became, as he recognised the weight of the situation. Not that it would change anything of course. Pity doesn’t give way to forgiveness. If anyone really believed in that, the blonde would have to laugh in humour, because the concept itself was preposterous. If people really stuck to it, the world would be in a whole different dimension. Deciding it would be better for the situation to end sooner, he drew out the small blade and admired the handiwork. Serrated on both sides, it was designed to inflict maximum damage when pulled back out.

Polishing the blade, he walked in calmly, not betraying any sense of threatening behaviour. Not that a gangly, typical stable hand could really look that threatening. His hair was stuck up into ridiculous spikes, and his whole outfit seemed a size too big that it was swamping him. No hesitation now. Swiftly, he locked the door behind him, slipping the key into one pocket. At first, the other didn’t seem to be too bothered by the presence of another being, not casting more than the briefest glance.

That touched at the chords of irritation. Of course the villain would not be afraid of the hero, that was their role, but this Max was taking it a touch too far by getting up to busy himself with some loose scraps of tack that were halfway done to getting polished. With even steps, Jack marched up to other, wrapping an arm tightly around the slim figure of the other and taking advantage of the brief confusion to push the weapon in, piercing the skin, smoothly slicing the corded muscles, sending spurts of warm red liquid across the hilt and soaking into the outfits of both.

Max’s first reaction after that had been to elbow the other away, sending him crashing against the lockers and knocking tack off their hooks, if only to get some space between the two. Where he had seemed listless and confused, there was now sharp focus and rapt attention. Things really had not been going his way for a while, but this situation just seemed preposterous. Trying to stem the blood, he pressed a hand around the blade, thankful that it hadn’t been dislodged and looked to the locked door.

“Oh, crap!”

“Oh, yes.”

Rubbing the back of his head, Jack had managed to pull himself onto his feet, holding his frame up against a shelf. The world seemed to be shifting left and right, swimming up and down. Some parts of his Suddenly, this just wasn’t a good idea. But now that he was half-way done, things had to be finished off. The floor was smeared with traces of blood that now created a distinct slipping hazard. But the sheer volume meant that he must have lost a pint at least. So they were pretty even with feeling like absolute hell. Clumsily, Jack drew out a small needle, already loaded with a milky white substance that lazily slid from side-to-side.

Charging the other, the two fell into a scrap on the floor, each trying to get a firm enough grip on the other. But even a blind person would easily say that regardless of frame size and strength, Maximillian would be at the greatest disadvantage. And besides, it wasn’t like the assailant was trying to get a few good blows in – he just needed a solid stab into any part of the skin. Which, as it turned out, happened to be Max’s thigh. Pushing the plunger in, he watched as the thick liquid disappeared.

“That’s a dilute poison. There’s no antidote. And I want the knife back.”

Harshly shoving Max off, Jack took the liberty of pulling the blade back out and wiping it against the other’s shirt before he tucked it back into its sheath. Flipping the jacket inside out to hide the blood, he wiped off the crusting traces of blood from his face and hands, throwing the tainted clothes into a bag and switching into a spare outfit he had conveniently hid there. This had gone uniquely well.

Looking back, he was about to leave, but he felt somewhat compelled into writing the name of the poison on a scrap of paper. At least that way, it gave a sort of peace. He slipped it into the brunet’s jacket and slid back out of the door, leaving it unlocked, but closed, eyes closing in a brief prayer. He just needed to hand A-56 the bag, and the pair would leave for a while, to return once the drama would have settled down. They would be his cover if anything skewed slightly. As the car pulled off, ignored by everyone else, the cameras flicked back into the live view, panning across the courtyards to see who would have to be next to be dispatched.