This is my entry for the Specter of torment art contest! I wanted to do a fun cafe scene and it was quite the challenge to get this up and running in time but I’m glad I got to try. I’ve seen so many other entries and I’m so excited for everyone, and I wish you all the best! Please zoom in for details
When considering traditional standards of beauty or masculine charm, the features that made Yagura recognizable were not often considered. A notable scar below the one eye, irises colored bleeding pink, and a diminished stature that confused him with children if viewed from behind. No, Yagura was not what tradition would call beautiful, but he was other things.
Among those things he was old, considerably old, and in all the years of his long existence he had learned how to be. He knew what angles worked for him, what lighting suited his features, and how to lower his tenor to a velvet edged voice that could turn razor sharp in a second. He knew how to hold himself, how to dress himself, how to carry himself. He knew his worth and his worth was pretty damn high. The world was meant for him and was his. He acted as haughty as he pleased and the world slid right into his palm.
It gave him no little delight to be proven time and time again that the world was his to manipulate and take from as he pleased. The woman in the doorway seemed to do nothing more than stoke his already engorged ego.
There was blood across the floor and a dead hand under the toe of his designer shoes. Yagura leaned his head to the side and lowered his lids before lifting a rolled cigarette to his lips and cupping the end. A small burn of red and the end caught and began to smoke.
With the toe of his shoe he poked under the dead hand and kicked it up so it flopped back down onto the face of the corpse just as he took a long drag to exhale in semi dramatic fashion. The woman in the doorway didn’t move, and her eyes were still glued in appreciation to his figure even though half the other employees were scared and hiding.
“That’s enough for now,” he said to the other boys, turning away so the tail ends of his jacket flapped like a cape behind him. It made his walk all the more purposeful as he walked past the hungry woman and left her wanting. He didn’t even glance her way as he called out to the boys behind him.
“I think they got the message here. We’ll be back in the hour though if they step into our turf again.”
“You think we needed to leave so few alive?” Haku asked in a clear voice that reminded Yagura of the ice.
“Ao?” Yagura grunted before exhaling smoke again.
Ao came up behind Hake and purposefully stopped to turn and look behind them before pulling his gun out from the front breast pocket of his gray pinstripe. He aimed in less than a second and recoiled only slightly when the shot rang out and sank into the woman in the doorway’s forehead.
Slowly, purposefully, Ao put his gun away and reached for his hat instead. The rack had all their hats, as well as a few others that would never be worn by their owners again.
Yagura fit his fedora and pulled the front down low over his eyes before stepping out. A thin mist had settled and every so often the rain would come and wet the world further. It was perfect weather and the Mizu boys were all the stronger for it.
Haku begrudgingly followed his betters out and kept his head down, least his questions lead to more avoidable bloodshed. One woman was too risky to leave alive if she sported a handgun in the belt on her thigh? Apparently.
Ao drove, but Yagura rode from the backseat and was the real directioner for their group. If he didn’t want to go back to Mei’s place than they didn’t have to. She was technically their boss and really the only person that could handle Yagura enough to boss him into doing things for her.
The escort was dressed simply, a plain white button-up under a black waistcoat and black slacks, but the cut of the clothing hinted maddeningly at what lay underneath. The shirt was unbuttoned enough to show quite a bit of his chest and the vest nipped in to emphasize his trim waist. When he stepped into the room, Francis made a show of turning to shut the door behind him, revealing that his pants must have been chosen expressly to display his fantastic ass.
Erik wondered who exactly in the department had such good taste in men, because Francis’s appearance didn’t scream sex in an abrasive way; it moaned it quietly enough that you wanted to get closer and hear all the details.
Of course, that was when Erik managed to pry his eyes from Francis’s ass to look at his face. Granted, he was mostly successful because Francis had turned around, so Erik couldn’t keep staring.