Work Text:
Genya Arikado was a striking man, nevertheless, secretive. He was those the office would refer to as shadow, quick to leave and accurate to clock in, with a face infused scowl and sometimes a rather messy collar with fragrance all over. He was a mystery to the department of so called mysteries–the agency.
The office was quickly filled with people as the sun rose, some from the night before and new. A rather questionable office for those who are told of it— supernatural. The buzzle of calls and the talks between agents echoed through the hall, people coming in with coffee and a frown on their face made for a tense office. Furthermore, the hum of electronics and thrums of higher entities spoke a language of their own, yet he was nowhere to be seen in his so-called “natural habitat”. Coworkers mumbled and gossiped whilst looking at his empty desk, not that they had something better to do, as it was a matter of time before someone brought up his marital status. “Single?” An agent echoed, “I mean…he’s too hot and accepting too many missions to be married, duhh.” Another voice followed, “Right? There’s no fucking way he’s married.” Just as a small group of nosy conversationalists began to form, it was swiftly shut down by a deadly glare from a seasoned agent working just right next to the conversation pit, “I understand the thrill but please–keep it out of your workspace.” The finishing of her sentence accompanied with a glare amounted to that of your mother when you informed her you needed art supplies for tomorrow at the golden hour of sleep–the pit was dispersed in no time, yet, the long haired agent was still nowhere to be seen–could he be dead? Comedic.
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Rain poUreD iN tHe StrEets of New York City, a city filled with hopes, dreams and the past of those who he loved–her. Or should i say, divorced beheaded aand–”Stop right there, you’re milking this more than you should.”, a slouched figure on the plum velvet couch frustratingly muttered, her frustrated eyes pierced of jade made a marvelous compliment to the storm. “This rain isn’t anywhere near stopping, don’t be such a bummm.” Their playful banter echoed through the brownstone building of park slope as rain embraced the overwhelm of concrete jungle, unbeknownst to her “past”, he was still waiting. Regardless.
Leave as a cat,
With prints of snow,
Scattered not for
Those you know.
No difference in
A cat of wonder,
Prancing in
A cage of coal.