Paris practically collapsed onto his sofa—not quite a sofa, but a tufted chaise lounge according to the stained tags sewn into its underside—and expelled the day’s stresses from his body with a weary sigh, deflating like a worn-out tire. Despite its dubious age and design, there was nowhere else he would rather be as he decompressed from the thousand little things that comprised his daily routine. With one arm draped over the lounge and his head leaned back in a pose that almost resembled comfortable, he rested his eyes and listened to the hypnotic, breathy doom rock that crackled like a grease fire in his player’s speakers.
What he lacked in privacy regarding his accommodations in the private quarters of the compound, Paris at least made up for in style. All kinds of eccentric furniture and decor surrounded him, rescued from whatever hidden places he or others had found them, preserved from the cruel world that would have seen them destroyed. It brought him no small pleasure to capture a semblance of luxury, from the lounge to the shag rugs underfoot and film posters plastering the walls. Where once he had known only threadbare rags and military rations, he now rested with a full belly in a robe fit for a king—God knows he earned it.
Making this place what it was, keeping it from tearing apart at the seams—these were tasks that manifested as a thousand little things which comprised his daily routine. The logistics of their community was labor all on his own, delegated to those few like Paris who knew how to pull the right strings and make things happen. Thankless work to be sure, but it afforded him those luxuries that made it all worthwhile by day’s end.
Serenaded by the music intermingled with the soft hum of distant generators and the moody incandescents dotting his quarters—not quite a room, but enough to be considered home—Paris lulled his head aside and breathed more deeply until light footfalls rasped at the entrance of his container. For all the noise that went on in the sleeping quarters of their compound, he knew well enough to recognize the difference between ambient noise and someone in his space.
With a groan and a grimace, Paris sat up and rubbed his eyes. He then leaned forward to catch a glimpse past the room divider that obscured the entrance from the rest of his home, uncertain of who would pay him a visit this late in the evening and all too certain at the same time. "L’enfer, c’est les autres." He addressed his boss with all the dignity of a man dressed in a bedroom robe and boxers. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"Posted 04-20-2021, 05:39 AMThis post was last modified: 04-20-2021, 02:00 PM by Paris Savaci
TAGParis Savaci NOTES N/A
Life was always exciting when living outside the normal safety of Stronghold's walls, but the last few weeks were particularly eventful for the boss of Eclipse — and not necessarily in a good way. Infected attacks, a run-in with the Military, and even getting injured after sneaking out of the camp without his advisors' approval; he was most definitely overdue for an earful from the higher ups, but Étienne was always good at avoiding such things when he wanted. After all, he had spent twenty years under the thumb of his parents, being dragged around like some kind of doll to be shown off. It had become almost a requirement for him to learn how to hide from things that caused him boredom in life, and it translated over to his position of boss as well.
But things always caught up to him eventually.
Étienne finally decided to face the music and go to the one person that would probably chew him out the least — not that that was any better, but at least it wouldn't go for an entire day like some of the others. So he roused himself from where he was currently hiding in his office and took off towards the sleeping quarters where he had been informed Paris was currently taking a break. The weather was actually calm for once, a light breeze that didn't promise the threat of rain or, god forbid, more snow. Étienne took a deep breath of fresh air into his lungs, enjoying the crisp bite that entered his lungs at the action. It was a quick walk over to the sleeping quarters, a ramshackle structure built out of individual shipping containers that served as the housing for Eclipse members. Not much to look at, but they were exceptionally weather proof, which made them ideal shelter.
Stairs groaned as he climbed them, but he knew they were constructed well enough that he didn't have to worry about them collapsing. Several Eclipse members greeted him on his way past, and he responded with a nod or a wave; they'd come to expect non-verbal greetings from him. Finally he reached his destination, only mildly surprised to see the massive doors open; for the first good weather they'd had in a long time, it was no surprise that people wanted fresh air into their stuffy and stale apartments.
Étienne didn't bother knocking, he merely invited himself inside, taking care to make enough noise that Paris could be alerted of his presence. He didn't enter far, not until he saw the man's head poke around the divider centered in the middle of the shipping container. Once greeted, Étienne allows a shimmer of a smile to grace his lips as he enters further inside. He notices the way Paris is dressed, but for the moment doesn't draw any attention to it.
“I figured we'd be having a little chat sooner than later, so here I am,” Étienne answers the man, leaning back against the wall opposite Paris with his arms folded across his chest.
“Were you expecting... Someone else?” he questions with a bemused grin on his face, very obviously taking in the man's current state of dress before his eyes lift once again to match Paris' gaze with his own. A cheeky little jab at the man, although Étienne certainly wasn't complaining. Still, it's not like he would expect Eclipse members to be dressed to the nines when in the comfort of their own home. He was the one that had barged in without notice, after all.
"'A little chat,'" Paris echoed once Étienne made his presence known. "I suppose this calls for a drink then." The man rose from his seat while resisting the urge to sigh. While it wouldn’t have been proper of him to receive guests in such unmannerly fashion, any pretense of formality was lost upon them after Étienne pointed out his host’s attire. A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, but Paris waved the question off like a fly.
"You’re fortunate I have this much with the weather we’re having. I had half the mind to draw up a bath." Despite all the trouble maintaining clean, running water in the compound, Paris insisted upon hygiene being of the utmost importance to the community; they were little better than base animals without it.
Soft lyrics filled the silence between them as Paris set out a pair of glasses and a half-empty bottle of malt whiskey. The spirits had played a cruel and destroyed part in the great tragedy of his youth, but Paris knew as well as anyone that a man’s sanity didn’t last long in this world without indulging in some vice or another. He cast Étienne a knowing look as he poured them two fingers apiece, enough to scorch the gullet but not enough to make the imminent conversation less difficult.
"How’s the arm?" The well-aimed question came with an offered glass in Étienne’s direction. For all the dry humor in his voice, Paris wore a deadpan expression that betrayed his disapproval of the trouble his boss had gotten himself into recently.
Posted 04-22-2021, 04:04 AM
TAGParis Savaci NOTES N/A “I won't say no to that,” Étienne chuckles softly in answer to the offer of a drink; the other man knew him well. A drink was something that Étienne never turned down, even if he didn't exactly make the best drunk. Still, it's not like they were planning on drinking the night away or anything. Another chuckle leaves his lips at Paris' response to the question of whether or not he was expecting someone else. I wouldn't be bothered by that, he thinks internally, but keeps the suggestive comment to himself. It's not like the boss of Eclipse didn't enjoy a hot, naked man, but he knew better than to push the boundaries of professionalism between the two of them.
A natural silence falls between them as Paris pours the two of them a drink, and Étienne uses the time to casually glance around Paris' room. It's not like he visits here often — most of their meetings held in the private comforts of the Workshop — which meant that the other man always had something new in his room each time Étienne was invited inside.
It amuses the boss. He's the complete opposite of the Eclipse advisor; growing up with access to anything he could ever want made him grow tired of material possessions. His own 'apartment' in Eclipse was rather sparse, with just the base necessities required for a comfortable living. Clutter, as he likes to call it, was simply not present in his room. It's a stark contrast in the way the two men chose to live their lives.
Étienne's attention turns back to Paris when the man finally breaks the silence with a question, and he glances down at his left arm. He's still woken up by pain during the middle of the night, which means he usually has to get through the day via various naps. He frowns slightly at the thought — what had been just a minor injury in his mind was now giving him more trouble than he thought it would, and while he would never admit it to anyone, it... Worried him. His lifts his gaze as a glass is thrust into his vision, and he accepts the glass with a murmured 'thank you'. Étienne immediately gulps back a swallow, the burn in his throat from the alcohol a refreshing feeling. He would take that over the pain in his arm any day.
“It's fine.” He lies, and it's easy upon his tongue. “I told everyone it's not a big deal, but everyone's making such a big fuss over it.”For good reason. “It won't slow me down any, at least.” He holds the glass in his good hand as he stretches his left arm out in front of him, flexing his hands as if to prove it didn't bother him any. He ignores the way his fingers tingle from the action.
“Mhm.” Paris resisted the urge to scoff at Ettie’s downplayed response, well aware of the rumors making the rounds throughout the community about their leader’s current state. “If it were fine, one of our people could’ve patched you up, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” They had worked together well enough to know what came next, and that didn’t stop Paris whatsoever.
With an overt sigh, he pressed the cool glass of his own drink to his brow without taking his gaze off Étienne, staring at him as though he were a child in need of scolding. Maybe he was exactly that, Paris thought to himself. “I’m told your team was after a cache of weapons when you hurt yourself out there, and it got left behind when they rushed you home. That hurts business.” Although he spoke with the bite of someone upset by the prospect of profits squandered, the man wore a frown that seemed almost pouting, more disappointed than resentful of the situation.
“And God only knows that it cost us to bring that doctor here from Stronghold, what risks were taken to make it happen. You may have jeopardized his position and endangered a significant source of income from smuggling medical supplies into the city,” Paris continued, having not once taken a sip of his drink, “This too hurts business. You must see a pattern here, because I do.”
Paris raised his chin and closed his eyes, appearing like he was fighting off a headache. This was hardly how he had planned to spend his evening. “Worst of all, I heard the Military busted up some fighting club in the city—breach charges, automatic weapons, infected in cages—the same day you were making runs for our less discerning contacts.” Only then did he knock back the entirety of his glass, unaffected as it ran its course.
“How am I supposed to do my part in keeping this place running smoothly when you’re out there risking lives, affecting our bottom line besides?” He punctuated the conclusion of his rant by setting down his glass with a crisp force, a severity about his dark gaze as it hung over Étienne.
Posted 05-02-2021, 12:20 PM
TAGParis Savaci NOTES N/A “Or maybe everyone's just a little too fond of exaggeration,” Étienne quips out immediately following Paris's first few words, rebutting the idea that getting a specialized doctor into the camp had anything to do with the extent of his injury. He could fall out of bed in the morning and it would send everyone scrambling to make sure he was okay. In more ways than not, it often felt even more suffocating than the life he had left behind — and wasn't that his original purpose in coming to Eclipse? To get away from the mother henning? Étienne glances at Paris.
Oh yeah, he could definitely imagine him as a mother hen.
The man glances down at the seat next to him and observes the clutter of unique clothes and artifacts currently filling the seating space. He could just move everything to the side to take a seat but... Chooses instead to remain standing, his attention once again turning towards the other man just in time to see the look of disapproval, and the glass pressed against his head as if to ward away a headache. Étienne takes stupid glee in the sight and presses his own glass to his lips to mask his amusement.
But the amusement doesn't last long, fading away to nothing as the details of his latest... Excursions begin to be laid out in front of him.
First: disappointment in the fact they had left behind a weapons cache when he had been injured during an infected attack — not even injured by an infected itself, that was the most embarrassing part of the situation. Thankfully that was left out of Paris' comment, though it still stings the arrogant man's pride. He opens his mouth to speak — if he had any choice in the matter, he would have forced everyone to stay behind and gather what they had found, rather than drive him back to Eclipse in a frenzy — but Paris is on a roll and keeps going.
Second: bringing in a doctor from Stronghold. Well, maybe if Ian hadn't been gone, they wouldn't have had to do that. It wasn't his fault specifically. Étienne frowns at the insinuation and places his drink on a table next to him — no coaster — and like a petulant child, makes a show of counting the number of his 'crimes' on his fingers.
Third: being the unfortunate victim of a Military raid, which Paris once again seemed to make as though he had gone and done something stupid for the sole purpose of ruining Eclipse business. The Boss makes himself a reminder that he planned to visit the Ace of Spades and thank them for the warm welcome he had received that day when they had let out the Infected to chomp down on his ass. That was still a sore subject for the man; he wasn't about to let his ego take a hit simply because some gangster decided to play hardball with him... But after the chewing out he was currently getting, he wasn't about to inform Paris their relationship with the Jabberwockies' Spades wasn't over yet.
Paris finally throws back his full glass before turning a stern glare in Étienne's direction. Maybe if he had been any other kind of man, he would have shrunk under such a gaze, under such words. But...
“I never asked for the entourage you send with me everywhere,” he snips out, a little more harsh than it needed to be. A dark gaze, the good mood is gone. “Lives needn't be risked if I was left to take care of things for this group on my own. I get the job done, and that's the most important thing.” If he had been alone on the mission to raid the weapon cache, he would have been in and out before the infected were alerted of their presence. The deal with the spades went wrong because of something out of his control — but at the end of the day, he had gotten the job done, their payment secured.
“Eclipse's business should be your only concern, not me. I'm just here to make sure you never have to get your hands dirty.” It's truth, as far as Étienne can see it. Even though he was the boss, he was the one doing the dirty work, not his advisors. What he chose to do with that power shouldn't matter to them.
Paris wondered for a moment why he bothered, but he dismissed the thought no sooner than it had formed. He knew why and contented himself with that alone, but his gaze was no less dark for it, unwavering against his leader’s own. This unpleasantness came with the nature of his position, Paris often had to remind himself. If he could not keep Étienne’s feet on the ground and make him see reason, then what hope did anyone else have of doing so?
His last comment however needled Paris in all the wrong places, his eyes narrowing at the implication of those words. “Spare me,” he said, waving off the nuisance of Ettie’s remark, “I may not be out there earning my keep with bloodied knuckles and busted lips, but you know as well as I do what kind of dirty work it takes to keep our house in order. People talk while you’re away, and they aren’t always optimistic.” And Paris’s work involved weeding out those unpleasant opinions, greasing palms or otherwise coercing the malcontents into passivity.
“Eclipse is my business, so what happens when Eclipse’s leader doesn’t come home?” A familiar old passion rose in the back of his voice, although he spoke no louder than necessary to be heard. “The work you do in the field is second to none, and maybe the security detail holds you back.” He gestured once more around him, as if to signify everything they had built together. “But all this falls apart the day I have to stand in front of everyone here and tell them you aren’t coming back.”
His gaze softened as he shook his head, pouring himself another drink. “Would it be better to send you out on your own and risk that?” Paris never sold himself short, but he knew the limits of his abilities. Were he ever to lose Étienne to his own recklessness, Paris doubted even he could keep Eclipse from succumbing to such a blow.
Posted 05-26-2021, 08:24 PMThis post was last modified: 05-29-2021, 05:42 PM by Paris Savaci
TAGParis Savaci NOTES N/A
Étienne knew how people talked — of course he did. He'd known about their disapproval of his leadership ever since he had been given the title of Boss four years ago. Only a fool would be completely ignorant to the rumbling of his ill-fit as leader that happened behind his back; idle gossip only fools took to partaking in. But it was true that Étienne himself wasn't the one to quell such rumours. He took them in stride, but it was people like Paris that put out the fires personally. He frowns and looks away from Paris, knowing there wasn't really anything comeback he could have to the man's words. Indeed, in some way, everyone in Eclipse got their hands dirty one way or another.
His way just happened to be more obvious.
His blue-grey gaze returns to Paris's darkened gaze as the man begins to speak of what would happen should he have to pass on the news that Étienne wouldn't return. It was always a very real threat to anyone living outside Stronghold's walls — that any of them could wind up dead when out on a mission. Hell, that's how the previous leader had met his demise. He listens to Paris continue speaking — watches as the man pours himself another drink — but he remains eerily quiet through it all. He feels old feelings beginning to recirculate through his body again, feelings he had the night he had first been announced as the new Boss of Eclipse.
“Well,” he finally begins to speak again once Paris finishes, his voice much quieter and softer than just a second ago, “first you and the rest of the advisors would decide who would lead Eclipse after my death. Then the entire group would simply move on with life, as it were.” He waves a hand absentmindedly in the air, as if to punctuate his words: if I were to die, life would go on without me. It was a sobering truth.
“Alone or not, there's always risk,” he begins to speak again, finally addressing Paris's last question. “Ensuring I go out with others every time only doubles, triples, that risk. At least when I'm alone I don't have to—” he stops, frowns, and turns his gaze away from Paris as he lets his words die. At least I don't have to watch anyone else die.
He had been there, when their previous leader had died. He'd watched the infected sink its fangs into his leg, and even in that split second that it happened, it was enough to kill the man. Étienne remembered that day as vividly as if it were yesterday, and knowing there was nothing he could have done to help the man continued to haunt him. At least when he was by himself, he only had to look out for his own neck. The Boss of Eclipse wasn't afraid to die — but maybe he was afraid to lose others.
I Wanna Be Adored
Posted 04-20-2021, 05:39 AM
This post was last modified: 04-20-2021, 02:00 PM by Paris Savaci
