Optics   Gaze   Upon   A   VIVID   kandinsky   Painting,   Analyzing   The   Vibrant   Colors

being   around   her   fellow   heroes   and   trainers   is   a   constant   reminder   of   what   happened   that   night   at   the   museum.   it   has   been   non   -   stop   training   and   crisis   management   around   the   nsa   headquarters   and   mizuse   just   needs   to   take   her   mind   off   of   it.   with   a   fearsome   thunderstorm   outside,   it   isn’t   wise   for   mizuse   to   simply   run   around   the   island   (   her   mother   constantly   found   herself   saying   “   i   don’t   care   how   fast   you   are   —   you   will   still   get   a   cold   !   ”   )   to   get   her   mind   off   of   things.   she   loves   running   in   the   rain.   however,   now   she   is   stuck   in   the   nsa   facilities,   so   the   speedster   decides   to   use   the   nsa   employee   workout   room   instead   of   the   one   that   the   heroes   are   supposed   to   use.   i   guess   watching   the   rain   from   the   expansive   windows   will   do.   however,   someone   has   beaten   mizuse   to   the   row   of   treadmills   —   the   skull   man.   she   hadn’t   been   there   for   too   long   before   cecil   notices   her   observing   his   near   -   perfect   running   form.   hey,   she   does   possess   a   degree   in   biomechanics   !   she   can   tell   better   than   anyone   !   musings   are   cut   short   by   cecil’s   comment,   having   the   young   hero   blink   in   surprise   that   he   noticed   her.   surprise   is   soon   painted   over   by   amusement,   a   hand   placed   on   her   hip.   ❛   oh,   is   that   a   hint   that   you’re   hiring   ?   ❜   mizuse   ventures   further   into   the   gym,   light   on   her   feet,   and   leans   against   an   adjacent   treadmill.   ❛   i   wasn’t   trying   to   be   sneaky.   you   wouldn’t   even   see   or   hear   me   coming.   ❜   she   adds  even   if   cecil   already   knows   (   he   knows   everything   ).    ❛   i   could   fit   right   in,   don’t   cha’   think   ?   ❜

where: nsa facilities who: @kyllini

cecil does his best thinking - as most people do - away from everyone else. it’s not the reason he took up distance running, but the running makes it easier to think. makes it easier to not have to talk to people though, regrettably, when he has to use a gym that’s not always the case. the thunderstorm bottoming out over novus keeps him inside; oxygen mask securely in place and pale eyes focusing on nothing but said storm pummeling the city while he runs on a treadmill in the comfort of the nsa’s facilities. the media may have moved on from buchanan’s catastrophe (and accepted the truth kronos supplied), but he hasn’t. and won’t. still, it’s hard for him to focus on it when he can feel (and see, thanks to the reflection of mizuse in the window) someone watching him. he slow the treadmill to a fast walk, removing the restrictive mask as he does before wiping sweat from his face with a towel. “if you’ve grown bored of sentinel and are trying to join my division, you’ll have to be sneakier than that, mizuse.”

the   TINGLE   of   electricity   …   the   static   in   the   air   of   perhaps   a   forthcoming   lightning   strike   or   really   …   it’s   an   adjacent   comrade   experiencing   an   anxious   chill   down   her   frame.   it   is   a   sensation   mizuse   has   felt   before   since   rosie’s   debut   three   months   after   her   own   on   team   sentinel.   the   speedster   immediately   flickers   her   gaze   from   people   -   watching—sycophants   fawning   over   buchanan   and   the   serum   freak   -   show   twins   who   just   left   the   stage—to   rosie   beside   her,   a   slight   furrow   to   her   brows.   the   query   is   the   one   mizuse   least   expected,   yet   it   probably   good   to   talk   about   ANYTHING   else   besides   what   was   just   revealed.   her   stomach   churns   ;   emotions   concealed   more   expertly   than   the   adjacent   cohort.   of   course   their   first   formal   affair   officially   being   on   sentinel   has   to   be   an   event   like   this.   ❛   an   aperol   spritz,   ❜   mizuse   answers,   lifting   the   glass   in   her   hand   slightly.   ❛   i   really   just   wanted   an   orange   slice,   but   the   bartender   wouldn’t   let   me   just   have   one,   so   i   had   him   surprise   me,   ❜   she   reveals   a   beat   after,   the   usual   nonchalant   smile   on   glossed   brims.   even   if   she   could   speed   behind   the   counter   herself   to   snatch   one,   using   her   abilities   in   a   place   like   this   isn’t   a   good   idea.   ❛   do   you   want   to   try   it   ?   ❜

𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆      ›         buchanan’s gala. with anyone.

  consequence   was   something   rosie   thought   about     a   lot   these   days.    or,    maybe    effect    was    the    better    word.    the    effect    of    becoming    a    super    was    attending    events    like    these.    the    effect    of    electricity    manipulation    was    the    synapses    in    your    brain    dying    over    time,    essentially    sentencing    you    to    die    in    your    early    sixties.    the    effect    of    this?    giving    abilities    to    people    who’s    bodies    were    never    meant    to    handle    them?    she    shivered,    a    frown    drawn    on    her    face    as    she    patted    down    strands    of    hair.    oh    yeah,    the    effect    of    anxiety?    electric.    she    rolled    her    eyes    at    nothing    in    particular    and    took    a    sip    of    her    champagne.    her    therapist    taught    her    what    to    do    to    avoid    a    pr    nightmare.    distract,    distract,    distract.

“    what    are    you    drinking?   ”    she    pipes    up,    eyes    on    her    neighbor.    she    offered    a    sweet    smile,    patting    once    more    at    her    hair.

amarcnthined​:

“—right.” suzu arches an eyebrow at mizuse’s denial and suppresses an amused smile. “well, you’re doing a good job of fooling everyone else, i’ll give you that.” she sips her drink, gaze traveling across the crowd, humming in agreement as mizuse explains her father’s absence. “you can tell him all about it later. he’ll probably love to hear it.” in her peripheral vision, she notices mizuse stepping closer, fingers fidgeting with silver jewelry, and suzu turns to fully face the young hero. “i didn’t, no.” better to be blunt than raise false hope. “sorry, i wish i had. it’s just as much of a surprise to you as it is to me.” still, she doesn’t elaborate on her own frustration, irritated by the fact she could’ve known but didn’t. no rumors, no whispers of a super serum finally more than a false promise—how tight of a hold does kronos have on this? but it’s nothing mizuse should worry about; suzu’s problems are her own, and she’d rather not drag mizuse into the intricacies of it.

“but barring that, how does it feel to be at your first official event?” she asks, mocking the tone of the journalist with a grin. beneath the teasing lies pride for what mizuse’s become, even if she thought the speedster would be better off in crux. “do you think it was worth it?” her tone turns serious, more contemplative. “all the training?”

there   is   no   necessity   for   an   apology.   it   seems   like   everybody   here   was   blindsided   by   the   announcement   by   the   kronos   ceo.   the   grin   on   her   countenance   blossoms   from   consolation   (   of   course   mizuse   notices   the   vexation   swirling   within   the   bluntness   of   the   answer   that   she   did   not   want   to   give   the   younger   )   to   the   charismatic   self   -   assurance   and   relaxed   simper.   ❛   this   is   easy   -   peasy,   ❜   mizuse   answers   with   a   scoff.   the   amount   of   media   training   she   had   to   suffer   through   years   holed   up   in   the   nsa   training   facility   has   prepared   her   for   …   most   of   this.   what   mizuse   has   is   an   EDGE   —   able   to   think   quickly   on   her   feet   and   have   the   inability   to   be   visibly   fazed   by   most   surprises   and   stressful   situations.   however,   this   speedster   is   still   human   and   cannot   be   blasé   towards   everything,   especially   towards   the   discreet,   tense   mannerisms   and   underlying   meaning   in   teasing   words.   optics   flit   around   the   ballroom,   surrounded   by   the   nsa’s   super   -   powered   greats   and   novus’   influential.   holding   her   father’s   hand   at   similar   events,   wow’d   by   the   same   people   instead   of   being   the   one   to   work   with   them   only   seems   like   it   was   yesterday.   ❛   of   course   the   training   was   worth   it,   ❜   mizuse’s   gaze   shifts   back   towards   the   vigilante   with   a   gratified   smile   and   sigh   of   content   (   relief   the   grueling   training   has   ended   ).   ❛   i   learned   how   to   be   the   FASTEST.   i   reached   speeds   that   would’ve   taken   me   years   to   accomplish   if   i   didn’t   have   that   training,   y’know   ?   maybe   with   a   bit   more   experience   being   an   official   hero,   i   can   become   too   fast   at   saving   novus   so   heroes   can   be   a   little   bored   for   once,   ❜   she   quips   with   a   soft   chuckle,   only   suzu   being   able   to   witness   the   reveal   an   altruistic   side   of   the   younger.   mizuse   strives   to   be   one   of   THE   BEST   —   to   ensure   a   safer   society   and   also   lift   some   of   the   overwhelming   responsibility   off   her   veteran   mentors.   ❛   and   you   taught   things   that   they   couldn’t   have.   you’re   one   of   the   reasons   why   i’m   able   to   be   here   tonight.   ❜   

lightning   -   fast   reflexes   catch   the   water   bottle   tossed   her   way   as   suzume   speaks   her   usual   wise   and   sisterly   words   (   she   can   read   mizuse   like   a   book   no   matter   how   much   she   has   mastered   to   conceal   true   feelings   ).   it   makes   mizuse   sigh   —   in   both   annoyance   and   exhaustion.   ❛   i   know,   i   know,   ❜   the   younger   responds   as   she   hoists   herself   to   sit   on   a   crate.   ever   since   the   buchanan   incident,   nsa   has   been   focusing   on   more   training   on   their   heroes,   especially   the   ones   they   do   not   put   on   a   pedestal.   non   -   stop   training   is   a   constant   reminder   that   mizuse   wasn’t   fast   enough   …   thinking,   reacting,   saving.   even   if   mizuse   was   responsible   for   rescuing   guests   from   the   shattered   chandelier   and   corralling   novus   citizens   out   of   the   museum   to   escape   the   frenzied   twins,   she   wasn’t   on   time   to   save   everyone.   at   least   with   suzume,   the   pressure   of   being   looked   down   on   isn’t   as   prominent.   being   in   her   presence   is   comforting.   like   home.   

❛   there’s   not   much   i   can   do   right   now,   anyway.   ❜   mizuse   adds   before   taking   a   sip   of   water   with   a   shrug   of   her   shoulders.   pout   clear   on   visage,   she   slowly   kicks   her   legs   back   and   forth,   optics   focused   on   the   ground.

with : @kyllini location : an old warehouse, somewhere in novus date : a few days after the gala

an empty warehouse becomes anything suzu wants it to be, and the environment warps over and over, illusory projectiles fired at mizuse to dodge ( among other unorthodox methods ). it’s a practice exercise tailored just for her, something they haven’t done in a while, between the nsa scooping her up and everything in between. feels like the old days. nostalgia’s not the only reason, though—after that disastrous night, suzu understands wanting to be better, faster, and she figures this will suit the younger better than sitting around doing nothing. 

“don’t beat yourself up too much over it,” she says once they stop for a break, tossing a water bottle to mizuse. “you’ll get too in your head that way. focus on what you can do instead, y’know?”

Drowning Love 溺れるナイフ | 2016

#KYLLINI   :    writing    blog    for    𝙺𝚁𝙾𝙽𝙾𝚂𝙵𝙼    dedicated    to    the    debut    of   the    𝑭𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑺𝑻    𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵    𝑶𝑵    𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑯    ;    defying    all    odds    by    𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚    the    advance    technology    of    cybernetics    &    lowkey    STRUGGLING    to    handle    the    pressure    of    living    up    to    expectations    left     behind    by    𝗳𝗹𝗲𝗲𝘁  -  𝗳𝗼𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗱    predecessors.        

                                 written    by    𝚓𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚎    [   twenty4  +  she/her  +  cst   ]  

𝚒.  𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈    𝚒𝚒.  𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽    𝚒𝚒𝚒.  𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂    𝚒𝚟.  𝙿𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃

an      amused      chortle      emits      from      her      nose      at      the      comparison      baz      responds      with,     too      busy     indulging      in      the      taste      of      fresh      tomatoes      and      tangy      balsamic      vinegar,      but      still      extends      her      plate      towards      her      mentor      if      he’s      interested      in      another      piece.      a      crude      way      to      put      it,      but      he’s      right      —      a      true      statement      for      many      retorts      in      the      conversations      they’ve      had      bonding      throughout      mizuse’s      years      at      the      nsa.      now      a      fresh      graduate      and      focusing      all      of      her      time      on      being      a      part      of      sentinel,      she      has      missed      spending      time      with      baz.      a      twinge      of      disappointment      twists      her      heart    the      nsa      doesn’t      think      she's     READY      to      be      a      part      of      the      paragon      team,      but      this      only      fuels      her      determination      to      improve      and      demonstrate      she      can      fit      right      in      with      the      big      leagues.      mizuse      can’t      help      but      feel      a      bit      of      gratitude      towards      the      twins      for      shifting     all     the      attention      to      them,      so      the      press      wouldn’t      be      focused      on      her      rookie      debut      or      the      celebrity      status      of      paragon      heroes.      brows      then      raise      at      what      comes      next      from      baz,      placing      a      hand      on      her      sternum      to      feign      offense      as      she      grins      up      at      him.      ❛     ha     !     that      doesn’t      sound      like      what      happened      during      my      21st      birthday      party.      i’m      a      responsible      partier     !      ❜      the      hand      leaves      to      close      into      a      fist      and      nudge      his      closest      bicep      to      her.      ❛      do      you      mean      that’s      what      happened      during      YOURS   ?   ❜

>his   back   rests   comfortably   against   the   bar,      drink   nursed   in   hand   shaken   through   the   fidgets   of   calloused   fingers.      darkened   hues   watch   her   with   a   familial   warmth,      humming   in   subtle   agreement   as   mizuse   continues   to   toss   around   her   speculations.      whatever   this   serum   is,      whoever   it’s   going   to   affect      …      he   really   couldn’t   care   less.      nothing   can   replace   the   real   thing      :      the   birth   lottery   won   by   their   enhanced   genetics   and   years   of   training   surely   can’t   be   toppled   by   some   magic   in   a   bottle.      especially   not   by   a   money-hungry   mad   scientist   masking   as   an   innovator.      “      a   shitty   car   works   but   doesn’t   make   it   any   less   of   a   shitty   ride,      ”      taking   a   piece   from   her   plate,      he   pops   it   into   his   mouth   without   so   much   of   another   word.      the   sight   of   the   two   being   so   close   is   one   that’s   expected   out   of   the   two   heroes,      having   been   in   training   together   for   so   long      …      even   having   the   chance   of   seeing   mizuse   grow   to   be   the   formidable   hero   she   is   today.      he’s   now   only   mildly   disappointed      (      instead   of   immensely,      quite   different   to   his   reaction   during   her   graduation      )      she   isn’t   by   his   side   in   paragon.      “      and   we’ll   have   front   row   seats   to   the   inveitable   trainwreck.      it’s   like   binge   drinking   the   first   day   you   got   legal      …      bound   to   puke   all   over   the   place   and   pass   out   in   the   street.      sounds   familiar      ?      ”

optics   flicker   across   the   scarred   skin   of   her   instructor,   observing   the   way   his   calloused   digits   point   and   gesture   towards   the   arsenal   of   weapons   mizuse   definitely   has   no   reason   to   be   in   possession   of.   it’s   not   like   she   is   a   terrible   shot.   the   entire   round   pierced   through   the   target’s   bullseye;   however,   why   would   she   need   to   rely   on   a   weapon   she   can   out   run   ?   ❛   tsk   —   yeah,   it   would   be   a   bad   idea   to   bring   a   gun   to   a   fight   against   ME,   sir,   ❜    gaze   shifts   back   up   towards   his   visage   at   the   mention   of   the   gala   —   guilt   slamming   down   her   heart   into   the   pits   of   her   stomach.   i   wasn’t   fast   enough.   the   devil-may-care   smile   falters   in   the   slightest,   sensing   the   mood   of   the   lesson   shifting.   mizuse   sets   down   the   secured   weapon   she   had   previously   fired   back   on   the   table   to   put   her   hands   on   her   hips.   she   notices   the   glint   of   specialty   knives   and   daggers,   similar   to   the   ones   that   her   father   had   used   during   his   clandestine   career   as   “   kage.  ”   let’s   not   forget   the   katana   that   is   his   prized   possession   (   mizuse   has   secretly   played   around   with   …   hey,   her   mother   did   put   her   in   kendo   classes   !   ).   ❛   i   know   my   way   around   these,   ❜   mizuse   picks   up   one   of   the   combat   knives,   grip   secure   around   the   handle,   with   the   edge   oriented   away   from   her.   as   of   right   now,   mizuse   does   not   carry   weapons   with   her   while   on   duty   as   a   sentinel.   when   she   was   moonlighting   as   a   vigilante   way   back   when   …   that’s   a   different   story.   ❛   if   we’re   talking   about   using   ANYTHING   in   arms’   reach,   sir   …   i   suggest   there   should   be,   like,   more   unusual   items   here.   this   laying   around   would   be   a   miracle.   ❜

OPEN ! summary training together a week after the buchanan's gala

moments ago, he had instructed them to empty a round into a single metal plate one-thousand meters away. exactly one emptied round later, as the last bullet falls loose from the barrel of their gun, he returns with a bundle in his arms. wayne lays out a cloth spread of weapons on the table. four different guns, three different knives. "put the safety on," he reminds, without looking up, as deft fingers load copper-plated steel bullets into a black fnx-45 tac. glinting off the fluorescents are scratches on the barrel, like someone used this gun to hit something. or someone. in the harsh light, nothing is forgiven—every inch of him shows hard and carved and calloused. casually cut and scarred. along the jutting bone of his left wrist, snaking around his hand then disappearing into his palm, is a line of scar tissue about an inch thick.

and his knuckles are still puffed up and scabbed over from the attack a week before. "alright," he starts. "never bring a gun to a supers' fight and, best case scenario, your target's dead before they know you ever existed," he lists off lessons from their past few sessions as he attaches an omega 45k to the barrel-end of a gun. "but," he pauses. "you were at the gala. or you've heard of it by now..." he holds a sigh in his chest. all of this almost feels silly—something so hopeless about trying to shoot at shadows, preparing to fight an enemy no one can see. but he wants to help, but he's no good at asking so how have you been, and he's even worse at saying the right thing, so this is the best he can do. "you need to know how to fight in any situation, with anything within arm's reach." he nods at the spread of weapons in front of them, cueing them to take their pick. "let me see your grip."