WHITE LINES & TATTOOS [r]

[skell bouras]

white teeth curled into a smile, tattooed face, dark pink lips, amber eyes. her skin was porcelain white, and she sat up in her tower of hell and money and skulls. the lone queen of a whole kingdom. but she craved it, whenever she didn't have it, and she lived for it whenever she did. dad used to call her the princess of saffron. he was a strict man, he was whipped by his own father and all of the children followed suit. an authoritarian, but only for his children. he had broken his own rules every day. she broke his rules once, and then they were her rules. her pokemon were scattered about the room. some of the ghosts simply dissipated into air for the time being, while persephone was perched on a sofa with macaria, probably having a telepathic conversation about the current stock exchange details, and how silph was doing publicly. yes, sometimes her work matters bled into everything else. it's called 'life,' and it has many aspects. skell lives them all. she scratched out a few signatures and made a few simple calls, trying desperately to get an appointment set up with a certain port manager. but she got no returns, no nothing- just voicemail messages and tones. skell sighed. her secretary downstairs considered phoning her about the upcoming business meeting with zemina officials but instead decided to leave skell alone, going back to his scheduling and typing rapidly. fernando silph

LAIKA OF GAGNAM STYLE

[fernando silph]

both corners of his mouth concave into a steepening frown, plastering his plain expression with a show of disapproval. the heavy smog still failed to stain the murky paleness of his skin, as it always did. it's been a while since he's been back but something things never change. the eye sore of saffron still stood erect and firm, wavering it's boisterous might over the fluctuating skyline. it brings backs memories. father used to call him hope, once upon a time. not that his other children wouldn't succeed - they were silphs, after all - but would any of them accomplish something to the magnitude to parallel his own? it's an answer he wouldn't live to see, as per the princess' demand. what a spoiled brat. fernando is left to his own devices, another body in the ever lasting turmoil that is saffron's pedestrian crossing. no one recognizes the long gone prince, unfamiliar with the sight of saffron's number two. all they know of is the third's rule, ignant to the inevitable plight that is to befallen their kingdom. they are silphs, after all. the only opposition would be skell's dainty secretary. the very one who reprimanded him for outright ignoring her. "only silph personnel are allowed this point," she would state. go ahead and stop him. those words would do nothing to stop fernando from accessing the elevator's keypad, operating a machine that was solely meant for skell. despite using her exclusive elevator, fernando had no intention of confronting or even acknowledging his estranged sibling. his purpose lied elsewhere, deep within the confines of the third floor's laboratory. skell bouras

[skell bouras]

paper roll ups, begging to be lit, taunting her with their slight aroma and clean white cylindrical shape, they haunt her. skell continues quickly slashing her signature but her mind is far off. perhaps thinking of her next business moves, or how good that thing might feel in between her lips right now. or a glass of wine. or something. the days are awfully dry. she wants everything to feel loose, like the knot is slowly unraveling. she wants her days to be exciting again. it's worth any cost. putting the organization at risk is well worth the reward. autumn rolls on and summer goes, and skell cannot help but feel like the seasons haven't changed at all- it's all just an illusion as her mind grows colder and more desperate as the year rolls along. and when the bleak, darkest moments of winter sweep across kanto, skell knows- it's time for destruction. she'll be ready, as always. her thoughts are interrupted by a call from her secretary- a man had barged in. she couldn't identify him. they had never met. fuck, is her first thought. skell doesn't like disturbances. they never end well. man, it used to be so hard to get rid of bodies- that was the only thing preventing them from murdering everyone who dared to intrude. but now, it was 'her city...' bodies weren't the issue. she packs a gun and thinks for a moment, eventually deciding to check the fifth floor- but alas, it is undisturbed. she makes her way down to the third floor next, loading her gun in the elevator as she goes. fernando silph

LAIKA OF GAGNAM STYLE

[fernando silph]

skell is late. unfashionably, late, unbearably late. fernando has long since buried himself into the depths of the r&d's lab. presumably skell's detour was worth it. without opposition, fernando now has unopposed access to most of silph's developmental sciences. what can one man do with such a score in such little amount of time? bar the limitations of time, a lot of thing, but such a luxury is not something his sister will grant him. instead, he opts for the next best solution. a muted beep emminates from one of the computers. his position has been secured. no one will second guess an additional piece of hardware among the vast amount of unchecked flashdrives. nor will anyone have the time to spot the foreign devices between the various sizes of equipment left in a disorganized frenzy. by the time anyone recognizes the consequences of fernando's actions it'll be far too late. "she's coming." there's no response. fernando speaks to a seemingly empty room. only the dim flicker of the now faltering lights show any signs of being alive. behind the single desk of one of the more private labs, fernando awaits. hands clasped into each other, he allows his chin to rest on the arch, anticipating the long awaited reunion. skell bouras

[skell bouras]

skell doesn't deal with intruders very often. mostly because intruders don't very often find their way up to third floor. most intruders don't use her elevator either. her original thoughts are naive- a burglar. a thief. an opposing mob leader. most people would be terrified, but the only thing that scares her more is her family. if it's daddy, she's in trouble. he had died, or skell thought so, but death wasn't obsolete like people imagined. how could it be, how could death be final, when time is so obviously a circle, a cycle. anyone can come back if they want, cause a disturbance. but it's only in unusual cases where they actually do. her knuckles are white and her cheeks are pink, both luminous and taut. her hands have a steady and strong grip on the gun, and her lips are curled and show her teeth. thanatos, the gengar, rises from the floor below her feet and floats up to her shoulder. skell reaches the door. you'd think that significance is something known to most people- a feeling that something is going to happen, and it's going to be big, or the feeling that this is a highpoint or a lowpoint. but skell has never felt it. she has only highpoints, because she makes them. the door flies open, and there is fernando. the gun, pointed directly at his head, remains just so. precisely aimed, ready- but untouched. she has not shot and she will not shoot. how could she. it's her brother, after all. (is that the only thing in your way?) "fernando," she chuckles. "what in god's name are you doing on the third floor?" she 'smiles,' but everyone in their world knows it's just another way to show your teeth to the enemy. or in this case, your brother. fernando silph

LAIKA OF GAGNAM STYLE

[fernando silph]

a gun? how quaint. imagine fernando's surprise when it's the boss herself who comes to greet him. you can't; fernando is no less surprised by her arrival than he is by the weapon clutched between the white, honed claws she dares to call fingers. it's a family reunion after all; and who better to escalate the tension than the primary suspect of his -- their father's murder. "hello, sister." his speech lacks the definite grimness that embodies his position. here, he is no longer someone who directs his inferior. she is his blood, his sister, but by no means his equal. therein lies the odd paradox where skell resides. she cannot be categorized. it is the only reason fernando cannot access whether or not she's a threat, whether she is someone he needs to dispose of. all because he sees her in a softer light than anyone else. not because of their blood but because of the lingering sentimentality instilled onto him by their first, and by most accounts, only mother. once upon a time they were friends. then again, once upon a time their mother was alive. "silly me forgot something so i came back to pick it up." she smiles at him. she displays her teeth in a primal manner of marking her territory, her claim. fernando isn't so petty as to match such a gesture. he keeps himself composed, mouth tightly knit shut but curved in an act of good faith. his grin is genuine, loving even. it almost fits the image of a young, earnest boy who departed home in order to please his father. almost. skell bouras

[skell bouras]

it takes a moment for her to get used to his face. he is older. aged. but still that dashing and handsome fernando she never really knew. yes, she did love him and she still does, but love has parameters. love has ends. fernando is a blind spot, perhaps- off the radar, if you will. yes, she loves fernando, but she loves her father too. and where does that put them? skell looks at her gun, and back to fernando. she lowers it and slowly ejects the magazine. it falls to the floor, and the bullets scatter loudly across the tiled flooring. "there." she says quietly, placing the gun in the holster strapped to her thigh. her smile disappears, her teeth disappear, but she still eyes him with caution. he has been gone for so long, so so long, it might seem she is a wild animal to him. everything is so different now. she respects him, and can expect that back in return. she is not a child anymore, she is not a girl. she is a woman. and although, to her father and most of her family, that may mean nothing, skell will insist: she has a d*ck the size of a gyarados. she's earned it. she takes a step towards him, one gentle step. his eyes play with her nerves. and then he smiles and she steps immediately back, although her chilling stare never breaks. a smile. and she can almost remember it, the look on his face, when he was there; right before he was gone. "almost." a smile, she's sure he flashes that one a lot. but skell remembers his real smile. his smile: this one is not true. "what do you need?" she asks him honestly, from across the room. "let me help you," skell says, producing a card from under the neckline of her dress, "i insist." fernando silph

LAIKA OF GAGNAM STYLE