Futuristic 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 ∞

[mother of sorrows]

''sometimes people do not break. they snap.''

❍ a story told by haruspex and vagabond.

© weldherwings.

 

[mother of sorrows]

chapter one.
the fox and the grapes

coded by weldherwings.

 

[mother of sorrows]

the sacrifice.

• 01
• 02

• 
  

  Consciousness returns like the thick drip of blood.
  
  Stale vomit. The stench of sweaty armpits and something earthy, freshly upturned soil. He is only aware enough to understand that there is rough fabric biting into his skin, a distant pain singing away words that escape him. Something swollen sits at the back of his head and he tries to move against the building pressure in his wiggling skull, awareness a bubbling pot for his bruised brain.
  
  Water on his chin. Salty. The sea?
  
  The bag is ripped off his head. Vision returns with blinding clarity and his head lolls. It's saliva. Red.
  
  ''You're awake. Good.'' A voice like a thousand spider legs crawling on his neck. He tries to raise his face to see, but it hurts too bad. Corners baked in shadows and a cement floor speckled with yellow follow his eyes. ''I'm almost ready.''
  
  He's in a chair. A metal one, digging into his legs, arms, neck - tiny half-circles that hold him still but don't envelop further. Invisible snakes twist on the floor, curling and dizzy before his dry eyes. Acid knocks on the back of his throat. Naked skin reflects in some distant, artificial lightning and he wonders if he is wearing any clothes.
  
  Why is he here? What's the time?
  
  My name is Johnny Kratz. I was... I was...
  
  A woman steps in front of him. Disheveled, rabbit-wild-eyed.
  
  Familiar. He thinks he must know her. No memory comes through the pulsing, bleeding gates, his neurons bleached raw. She is holding a marker, it's black tongue drawn all over his limbs in vague resemblance of symbols. They hold no meaning to him, but they still make him throw up. The thirsty cement soaks up yellow mixed with red, acid stench driftling into the tightly packed air.
  
  She clicks her tongue.
  
  ''Leon must have hit you harder than I thought.'' A grave hand rests on his forehead. He does not think she's comforting him. ''It's okay. This can still work.''
  
  This is a basement. The chair is a machine. It beeps, beeps, beeps. Wails like a breaking mountain.
  
  The woman kneels before him, her gray dress soaked up by dirt and wet, green patches - she smells like an exposed grave and river mist. Black circles sit under her eyes and she is so, so familiar.
  
  My name is Johnny Kratz and I did something.
  
  ''Do you believe in mercy, Johnny?'' She sing-asks. Her stomach bloats, as if a rat is just under the skin kicking to burst free. Wet with viscera, gnashing teeth. ''I don't.''
  
  The machine turns to stiff heat and his brain reworks the torn wiring.
  
  ''Neither do our gods.''
  
  He remembers. He does not get to scream, though his throat tries to.
  
  The circles bite in and his skin begins to
  
  tear.
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  

  tag

  
  Vagabond
  
  

  
  

  before the present.

  
  

  
  
  

coded by weldherwings.

 

[Vagabond]

Jang Do-Hyun

Well-fed devils behave better than famished saints.

The Architect

mood

Pensive, sensing an oncoming headache

location

Heaven's Peak, The Supreme Court

outfit

Double-breasted white suit, black dress shirt, black pocket square

tag

mother of sorrows

Bordering the sea meant that the winds would pass the frigid waters before it hit land. The towering city of Izhanta could buffet most of the winds the more inland one was, but the Summit's Supreme Court House sat along the fringes of the city where most government buildings were. It was a symbol of status, of power. The stone gargoyles that decorated its exterior stared down at him, pillars firm and steady - an apt reflection of the scales of justice. But it was aged, the marble was weathered.

That was no fault of its own, of course. If anything, Do-Hyun believed it added charm to the stone sentinel. Tried and tested by time, yet undaunted all the same.

Out here, the neon lights were less mainstay - billboards and adverts left to multistory office buildings in dire need of the funding only a fortune five hundred company could provide. Instead, the technology was built into the structures. Invisible to the naked eye unless one knew where to look - and he knew.

Exposed circuits were just bad manners in the business. Maintenance had fallen in between the cracks as government officials chose to line their pockets rather than upkeep the magnificent structures that reminded the people of their control of the city. It was inevitable then that that same manner of governing trickled down from the very top. It was an open secret that the gangs and organizations that called Izhanta home shared as much power as those on the proverbial top did - perhaps even more. Imports, exports, the very foundations and building blocks of the city - just like the slate of marble that the courthouse was built up from - belonged to them.

But something was amiss, like ripples in the water predating something large. Something dangerous.

He had done his fair share of government jobs. The pay suited him just fine, and the buildings were interesting enough despite the laundry list of demands that restricted his design work. They wanted to bulldoze the supreme courthouse - eradicate a near two centuries worth of history - to put a new one in its place. Do-Hyun squinted thoughtfully as he reached one large calloused hand out, placing it on the marble pillar before him. The new mayor was starting to become a concern - not a mere thorn in his side. He had signed an NDA as was necessary with this kind of work, but it had been the contents of the request that had him raising an eyebrow.

What sort of individual they were was beyond him, but the increased levels of security demanded of the new structure made it less of the layman's equal ground and court of justice and more of a death trap.

Jang Do-Hyun was no pessimist. He took himself as a realist at the best and worst of times, and the increased security measures simply did not add up. In the lower layers of the city, prison breaks and shootings on the streets were commonplace. Expected, even. But up here? Crime was privatized, and the grinning devils wore business suits and talked the talk and walked the walk as well as any other filthy rich business owner. No man was fool enough to commit a prison break - the evidence would simply be eradicated. Strings would be pulled, solutions would be bought.

So, why then, the sudden change?

He patted the marble pillar, still cloaked in the cover of night, before walking inside to take a good look around - to carve into his memory the beast he would fall. The golden light of the courthouse served it well, bathing the regal red carpets in an ethereal glow.

What a shame indeed.

Aged portraits of supreme court chief justices lined the wall. Like a moth to flame, he gravitated towards one in particular tipping his head to a side as he stood before the larger-than-life painting of Um Hyun-Woo. He looked kinder in the portrait than he did in Do-Hyun's memories, a foreign softness to his eyes that didn't match the creases that lined his forehead. The cracks in the paint did well to simulate the aged texture of his skin, but he knew it was simply due to lack of maintenance. And to imagine his father had once preached of the prestigious nature of these hallowed halls.

"You're a little far from your stomping grounds, are you not?" He would recognize that voice anywhere. Do-Hyun huffed a laugh, as he turned ever so slightly to look over his shoulder. That would make two of them then. Justice Albrecht Noritaka Stern had far more reason than him to be here on paper, but it still was not his court to preside over. He shrugged even as the other man came to stand at his side, tilting his head thoughtfully as he regarded the painting of Um Hyun-Woo. "If I recall correctly, you're quite fond of history. Impressed by his record, Do-Hyun?"

He kept both his hands clasped behind his back, "It's rather presumptuous of you to assume I'm regarding the subject of the painting and not the painting itself." Noritaka was one for decorum, especially in public, yet he chuckled all the same as he leaned in a little closer to get a better look at the painting.

"Familiar with the handiwork then? Any suggestions for when I get mines?" Noritaka's smiles rarely came easily, but in the golden light of the courthouse that chased away the dark of the night, he could make out the faintest of impressions of one. They had once grown up in the same circles before life had dragged them apart, and yet the ease of familiarity built by time never faded. The smaller man understood him well enough with few spoken words.

"If you're hoping to get one as beautiful as this, you're out of luck, Taka. Mária Molnár passed away three years ago, and retired two years before that." Noritaka merely shrugged, a quiet dismissal as the judge straightened his posture to stand to his full stature. It wasn't much, but Noritaka had always been a man whose presence made up for his size - or lack thereof. "Though Ani Stoyanova isn't half bad. They're contemporary as well. I'd dare say their brushwork could rival the old masters."

"So the rumors are true then," Noritaka's words were soft enough to rival a whisper, offering them some privacy in the open courthouse which often allowed words to travel further than usual - vocalizations bouncing off one wall to another. His orange eyes weighed heavy on Do-Hyun's form, a silent understanding passing between the two. The Sterns were infamously neutral, but judging from the way Noritaka squared his shoulders, the new mayor was held in low regard by the family.

Do-Hyun took his time to look down one side of the hall and survey the area before doing the same to the other side. There were more guards posted than usual. Word was there was a strange mobilization of troops within the country. That begged a question, of course.

How far was the new governing body willing to go?

"How long before it's gone?"

Do-Hyun blinked, "Over a year would be a reasonable estimate given the size of this structure."

"I doubt they'll give you that much time," Noritaka said in turn before taking a step back and away from the painting. "I'll leave you to your work then. Chief Justice Stern is not a man you leave waiting." The words sat heavy on Noritaka's tongue, they felt more like a warning than a simple observation.

He merely dipped his head in return, bidding the other man farewell as he regarded the ornate murals on the ceiling. If it made no difference to the new mayor, he would mobilize the conservationists he knew well to salvage the hundreds of hours of manual labor. People like them had no respect for the handiwork of the common laborer - the relentless toil that birthed art. The only remnants monument of a people once time had its way with them.

Do-Hyun took his time stalking the interior of the supreme court. The american hard maple worked well with the marble. It offered a sense of elegance and kindness. He knocked gently against the side of the judge stand - listening to the sound with a trained ear, noting the firmness of the steel frame underneath the millwork. Apparently, the universal standard was no longer enough.

The new order was preparing for war.

It made sense, then, that Arcadia would be wise to follow suit. Do-Hyun did not fancy himself a hasty nor reckless man, but he would not be caught unaware while the floor was broken from underneath him. He sighed as he walked around the judge's stand to step up behind the chair and see the empty courtroom from the view of Izhanta's Chief Justices.

Just as he moved to grab his pocket-sized sketchbook from within his jacket, his phone buzzed to life.

Strange.

It was a well-known courtesy not to contact him on his personal number when he was working unless there was an emergency. As far as he was aware, the courthouse did not seem any the more restless in the past hour. The guards stood at parade, the lawyers and reporters were not in any rush nor in any state of disarray or panic. He lowered his head to get a better look at his phone's screen. Jae-Sung. His brows furrowed together, eyes narrowing even as he pressed his lips into a thin line and answered the call much to his own dismay. He stood there in silence even as he waited for Jae-Sung to start speaking without proper invitation, as he was prone to doing.

"Didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?" His frown deepened though he said nothing, "Look, I know you're working on that nice new fancy job of yours but I have a friend here. Ito Kazutoshi." If the name was meant to impress, he was loathed to admit it didn't ring any bells. "Not really the sort of right bastard you'd know, I know."

"But look, listen. He's landed himself in some deep water. Usually, I wouldn't come to you with just some idiot who fucked up, right? The guy's got one hell of a story and something I know you'll fucking want. So, before you hang up, how about we meet up instead?"

"And trust me, he's good at what he does."

Those were dangerous words coming from Jae-Sung who was both infuriatingly competent and prone to making extremely dubious decisions. "What's on the line?"

Do-Hyun leaned against the judge's chair, placing his elbow upon the headrest as he weighed his options.

"Information. Look, it's a little much for me to explain over the phone," He could visualize Jae-Sung on the other side of the call, lazily lounging about despite the urgency of his so-called 'friend's' situation. "It'll be worth your time, I promise."

Once again, not a good sign. Still, Jae-Sung was not the sort of man to misfire. He trusted his judgment for what it was worth. Do-Hyun pushed up his sleeve to look at the time, "Be at the office in half an hour."

"Done deal. I'll make it happen."

"Ten minutes. Nothing more, nothing less," Jae-Sung hummed in agreement. If he had any further words to spare, Do-Hyun had neither the time nor the energy for it as he ended the call. He took a second to rub at his temples, shaking his head to himself. ito Kazutoshi. He had not heard of that name before, but it was rare Jae-Sung vouched for others'. He was either someone from outside of Izhanta or he was just that good at what he did. Whatever the circumstances, Do-Hyun knew one thing.

If Kazutoshi was requesting an audience with him at one in the morning, then he had better make his words count.

━ ◈ ━​

In Izhanta, the early hours of the morning were always dark. Thick layers of pollution - invisible to the naked eye - obscured the stars, an ever-present grey haze forcing the establishment of tall light fixtures throughout every level of the megacity.

The first snow was due to fall soon.

It made the perfect storm. Those in the Garden of Eden and Styx would be far too busy combating the cold, stoking wet wood in hopes of building a fire while sacrificing their essentials to fuel the hungry flames. In the meantime, Heaven's Peak would throw their lots into the bout - hoping to get in the good graces of the new order.

There were, of course, those like him who toed the lines of cooperation all for the sake of appearances. But they made up the minority.

As it stood, the hearts of Izhanta's people were divided. The rise to power of the mayor would be an easy one. Do-Hyun adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, not particularly bothered by the weather but certainly doubting his choice of dress.

This kind of cold could kill.

Money changed hands like water at the summit. It poured out of one bowl into the next, slipping like sand through the cracks. It wasn't a precious resource like it was in the slums. Men could burn it to keep warm and they'd still have plenty to spare for the next coming decades. But with all their luxuries came the agreement of obliging to a surveillance state. Even as he stood upon the perron out in front of the courthouse, he could make out the blinking cameras affixed within the eyes of the gargoyles.

Information. If he were to be honest, Jae-Sung had indeed caught his interest, but he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong with this stranger. It seemed far too opportune a moment for his arrival.

A harbinger then.

He sat in his car with a lit cigar, taking his time to really savor its profile - an earthy mix of cedar and black pepper. Arcadia had been expanding with ease - slowly but certainly. It started with sinking their claws into one government establishment followed by the next.

The new mayor was set to expunge the former city council - out with the old, in with the new.

All the pieces on the board were shifting and suddenly the game wasn't the same as it once was. The scavengers were terrified, lunging in to rip at the pieces of Izhanta's carcass before the mayor had their way with the city. It was a reckless sort of bloodshed - quantifiable and qualifiable. At the end of the day, they just became statistics as long as the streets of Izhanta's elites weren't stained red.

He tilted the cigar in his hands to examine it briefly before finally starting up his car. Smoke rose from the air almost immediately, the warmth of its engine reacting with the cold, frigid air. Perhaps this Kazutoshi fellow knew of the new government if he truly was from outside of Izhanta's city limits.

Do-Hyun was doubtful. Rarely were things just handed to him on a silver platter without a catch.

The trip to the aforementioned office was a short one. The traffic at this hour of the morning was near nonexistent, luxury vehicles finetuned to be within regulation drifting along the air traffic ways lazily. As it were, Do-Hyun took his time to observe the other vehicles with a critical eye. Most were top-of-the-line, recently manufactured rides. Their proverbial wings were clipped, oftentimes throwing out unique features for the sake of making them street legal.

What a convoluted process.

He arrived at Imperial Architects in record time to note that Jae-Sung's car was already parked outside. Do-Hyun took his time walking over to the vehicle to squint at the dark-tinted glass noting with some degree of amusement that it was empty.

As with any architect firm, its exterior was a living poster child for the quality of work produced by his company. His fellow contemporaries filled out other needed specificities. Subject matters he would never be caught dead working on. While the likes of Dunbar toyed with elements of deconstructivism, he stood firm with the classics - the recognizable swallowtail roofs of Minnan architecture, the daunting pointed arches and flying buttresses of Gothic cathedrals, the ornate Baroque architecture that originated in the west and the Ottoman Baroque style that followed it.

He fancied himself a learned man and an eager explorer. Flexibility suited him far better, the favored futurist and brutalist movements were not within his scope of interest in the slightest.

Imperial Architects was a formidable eclectic structure - not at all in line with its neighbors but not an eyesore to the outsider. Pushing the doors open gently, he paused at the security panel to shut it off completely - the cameras humming quietly as they shut down for the night. It did not take him long to locate them within the firm, Jae-Sung could only follow directions to a certain extent.

Bringing his so-called friend to Do-Hyun's office would be too much obedience for a change. He lifted his cigar to his lips, exhaling heavily before shaking his head as he walked in their direction. It was hard to miss the way Jae-Sung tilted his head slightly in Do-Hyun's direction even as he gestured widely at one of the pride and joys of the firm - a Riva original depicting the tumultuous nature of the sea.

They could see the dark waves from the top of Izhanta, though most people within the city limits had never truly experienced it - wealthy or not. "That shit could swallow you whole, or so I've heard," Jae-Sung had finished all the same before nudging his shoulder against the stranger's own. "Head's up. Big man's here. I can only bring you so far. Don't dig yourself into a hole. Remember what I said."

Do-Hyun doubted whatever advice Jae-Sung was good advice, but he supposed some advice was preferable to none. He watched as Jae-Sung left, pausing only to wink at him though he had pulled all the emotional cards he dared to stack on the line for Kazutoshi's sake since there were no words spared in his final defense. Do-Hyun raised a brow, but the other man was gone without another word.

He could hear the front doors of the firm lock behind Jae-Sung as he took his time to regard the other man, "Kazutoshi, was it?" He reached out to gently ash his cigar against one of the many ashtrays lingering around the firm. "Can't say I'm all too familiar with that name."

Though, if he were to bet on Jae-Sung's contacts, they were rarely simple individuals and never incompetent. "I hear you're in dire need of my aid." The man couldn't be more than an inch taller than him at most, but he was certainly far slighter than he was. Do-Hyun would put good money on Kazutoshi being a slippery weasel.

"The question is why should I offer it to you?"

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.