Qia — Roleplayer Guild

 
Mentions: Vincent (@Estylwen) Interactions: Kairo's Group (@The Savant)
The Red Rose Lounge, Highfair

The message arrived without ceremony.

A simple vibration against polished mahogany. A soft chime breaking the hush of the late morning, barely perceptible beneath the murmur of distant jazz and the low hum of conversation beyond her office doors. Isabella, enshrouded in this calm, did not immediately seize the device. Instead, she stared at the glass of whiskey in her hand, the amber liquid catching the bright glow of the sun outside. She doubted Emilia would approve. But then, Emilia had the luxury of waiting for the sun to set before reaching for a drink. It was smooth, expensive—aged for over two decades. The kind of drink that reminded her she had won. That she had carved out her empire with blood and relentless force.

And yet, as the phone’s screen pulsed in the dark, a foreign pressure coiled in her chest. 

She exhaled, expelling her unease, a slow release before her hand finally reached for the device.

📱 Message from Emilia:

Arakasa Tower. Basement. Vincent’s keeping him close.

Bella’s thumb hesitated over the screen. The whiskey in her grip sloshed. 

Vincent's intent was clear—visibility; not before the prying eyes of the world or the petty scoundrels under his thumb who muttered his name, but visibility directed solely towards her.

It was a reminder. A message.
I hold what you value most, and I am not afraid to keep it where you can see it.

She let the phone drop onto the desk with a muted thud. Her free hand traced the rim of her glass. She could feel the faint, almost imperceptible tremor beneath her fingers. Not fear. No—Bella did not fear men like Vincent Accardo.

But fury? Fury was different.

Fury was ice-cold. Fury was the slow grind of a blade against a whetstone, honed sharp with patience. 
Fury was the oppressive squeeze of a noose, a slow tightening that rendered each breath a privilege rather than a right. Fury was the weight of an empire built on blood-her family’s blood,  her father’s- pressing against her ribs, daring her to crack beneath it.
Fury was not reckless, not wild—it was a promise. A debt. And Vincent Accardo was long overdue.

It would be easy—too easy—to let it drive her straight into the lion’s den. To march into that tower, dismantling bodies with her own two hands, tearing her brother from Vincent’s grasp.

But fury wasn’t enough. Not in this place.

She deposited the whiskey back onto the desk, reclining into her chair. In a moment of introspection, her eyes fluttered shut.

And then, when Bella opened them, the strategist took over.

Arakasa Tower. Vincent’s territory.

The problem was not just security, nor the eyes and ears Vincent had sown into the city like an invasive species, feeding on every whisper and breath. The problem was time.

Vincent wasn’t careless. If Mathieu was locked up there, it wasn’t just about keeping him hostage—it was about waiting for her to make a mistake.

Which meant she couldn’t afford one. 

She needed more. More leverage. More people. More distractions.

Kairo.

The name surfaced almost immediately. The card Emilia had handed her sat at the edge of the desk, unobtrusive, yet suddenly taking up too much space in her mind.

Asterion Kairo. A man who played the game well enough to survive it. If there was strength to be wrung from him, if there was even a sliver of use in his survival, she would find it.

Still… something gnawed at the edges of her mind.

The whispers. Rumours of an attack.

If he had fallen—if he was compromised—then this was either the perfect time to strike a deal… or the worst time to stake anything on him at all.

Bella’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk, a silent debate unfolding within her. She could wait. Gather more information on Newport, anything to keep Vincent preoccupied. 

Or she could pick up the phone now.

Her hand lingered over the card, hesitation flaring up but dissipating just as swiftly. A soft scoff escaped her lips, bitter, a self-derisive chuckle.

Since when did you hesitate, Bella?

The decision was made.

She picked up her phone and tapped the number in.

Let it ring.

Once.

Twice.

Then—

A voice answered.

Krish was sitting there talking with Zarek and Jax, attempting to figure out what to move forward with, and the plans that Asterion had on his private desk. They were in Asterion’s private office while reading over everything and Zarek was trying his best to find the notarized file that was for Jax, Klara, and others. They needed to make sure they could grant the man's dying wishes if everything went south. 

Once the phone started ringing, Jax went to answer it, but he stopped himself and looked at Krish. Krish looked at the man with unknowing eyes and ones that were very questioning. “Should we answer it?” Jax glanced at it while hearing it ring. 

Krish leaned over and picked up the phone, “Hello, this is Krish answering on behalf of Asterion. May I ask who is calling?” His brighter orbs looked up at Jax’s and a sense of uncanny familiarity zapped him with Jax’s twilight blue eyes looking down at him. They reminded him of Asterion. It was almost causing his stomach to sicken with how much Jax looked like Asterion — they were brothers. 

“Put it on speaker,” Jax whispered. 

The redhead man waved him off, covering the phone so his voice cannot be heard, “Shut up. It's not going on speaker. You'll fuck it up,” he hissed out those words. 

Jax’s face twisted in a confused way of not knowing which emotions he wanted to show, offense? Maybe? “I want to hear it.” 

“No,” Krish kept standing his ground. 

“Please,” Jax began to beg. 

Krish groaned in annoyance, “Fine but do not say a thing,” he sounded threatening before turning the phone on speaker. Jax sat down to listen to everything that would happen.

Bella’s grip on the phone remained firm, fingers drumming once against the surface of her desk before stilling.

Krish?

There was always something to be read in that first breath of conversation—the cadence of a name, the silence where it didn’t belong. The absence of Asterion on the other end also spoke volumes. It told her everything she needed to know.

“That depends—do you think you can handle this conversation, or should I wait for Kairo?” Her voice was even, cool—not devoid of warmth, but lacking unnecessary pleasantries. This wasn’t a call for social niceties, after all. 

Krish's lips opened to say something but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say to all of that? Especially the part about waiting for Mister Kairo. Jax stared at him like he needed to say something. 

Zarek was going through a cabinet before sighing and rolling his eyes, “That silence says a lot,” he murmured in a low tone and Krish glared at him while mouthing, what do you want me to say?

The white haired man stood up from what he was doing and came over to the desk. “Krish asked you a question. Who is this? Answer that question and I'll consider being kind enough to continue this conversation,” he spat those words out with a seriousness. His finger was hovering over the button that would disconnect the call. 

The irritation in Zarek’s voice wasn’t lost on her. He wanted control, wanted to flip the dynamic, but she wasn’t about to let that happen. Not entirely, at least. 

“This is Isabella Delacroix. And I understand this isn’t a conversation for just anyone.” A pause, just long enough to let the meaning settle. “Which is why I’d rather not waste my time—or yours—talking to the wrong person. So, is your leader available or not?”

Not a slight. Not a challenge. Just a simple truth with an understandable question. 

“He is a very busy man, Miss Delacroix. He is not currently available but you are talking to the two individuals who are his second in charge. I am pretty sure we can handle anything you have to say but if you think you'll waste your time. Please. Hang up,” he rather go back to digging through the cabinets instead of talking but there was no way that Krish was functioning very well in this situation. 

Krish cleared his throat, “Bella, I understand this conversation is serious. If you want to speak to Asterion, you will have to wait, he is busy, and currently unavailable. However, if you're okay with speaking about this with me. I'm all ears. Zarek and I tend to be very aligned with Asterion and we tend to be in the majority of his meetings and a part of his decision making. If that makes you more comfortable to talk to us, please, go ahead with the conversation; unless you would like to speak about these matters in person?” Krish sounded way more pleasant than Zarek. 

She could hear it—the tension, the subtle friction between them. Zarek’s impatience. Krish’s attempt at diplomacy. The faint, underlying strain of something unspoken.

Not an ideal scenario, yet it was still tenable.

Bella’s fingers drummed once more against her desk before she leaned back in her chair, exhaling softly.

"If Asterion trusts you with his decisions, then I’ll trust you can carry a conversation." A shift, her gaze flicking toward the whiskey she had abandoned. 

"I assume you’re already aware of what’s happening with Newport." Not a question. A test. If they weren’t, that already told her something.

She gave them a beat to process before continuing.

“Then you’ll understand why I’m calling. Vincent Accardo has something of mine, and I don’t enjoy owing debts. If Asterion still intends to involve himself in this, not that Vincent made it sound like he had a choice, I believe we can make ourselves useful to each other.” A subtle shift—not asking, not demanding. Just stating a fact. 

“The only question is whether Asterion is in a position to capitalize on that.”

Krish and Zarek looked at each other with confusion — Newport? Zarek started laughing, “That is the crazy chick that he met at the gym. The one that wouldn’t stop fucking touching him by what he said,” his tone sounded amused. It showed that Zarek didn’t have any idea what was happening with the dirty cop. 

Thankfully, Jax grabbed a pen and paper and wrote it down. What he heard from Vincent earlier that morning when he and Asterion were in his public office. Krish was reading it while Zarek made such a comment. It was a vague description of what happened that morning but Krish shook his head.
“We were not in the room when Asterion received that call, Bella. It was earlier this morning but someone else was. From what our third had informed us about the voice message that was left by Vincent, Asterion believes Emilia set him up. That she had to tell Vincent to know that Asterion was even talking to your people. Uhm…” Krish’s voice got a little shaky at the thoughts. “He isn’t certain if he can trust you, your people, or what mess you are getting tied up into. We understand that Vincent has taken Emilia’s visit to this tower very seriously because we are missing one of our own. Elara. He has her though we believe it is a trap, be that a trap setup by only him or a collaboration of everyone that was involved, Emilia,” Krish’s tone was serious and unmoving in tone. Putting emphasis on Emilia’s name and bringing this up to hear the reaction of the woman. It would help them understand if she was setting Asterion up. 

Krish’s brows furrowed and Zarek caught onto that last sentence as well, “What do you mean? In a position to capitalize on that?” His words were plainly asked. 

“Vincent didn’t need Emilia to hand him that meeting on a silver platter. He’s had his gaze fixed on me long before she ever set foot in that tower. That’s what he does. That’s what men like him are.” She let the words settle like a match dropped into dry kindling, waiting for the flames to catch. Let them burn. Let them realize.

“Because Vincent doesn’t play from behind. He doesn’t chase ghosts or scrape for scraps from a single lieutenant when he already has half this city wired to his liking. If you think he only just now pieced together that Asterion was speaking to my people, then you’re not seeing the game for what it is. He was always ahead. He was already waiting.”

Her tone dipped lower, but somehow, it cut sharper. “So if you think picking apart Emilia’s loyalty is going to lead you anywhere useful, then by all means—keep gnawing at that bone while he takes his pound of flesh. My brother’s, most likely. And Elara’s, if she’s not careful.”

A pause, a merciless one, before- “What do I mean?” The scoff that followed was dry, hollowed of amusement. “I mean exactly what I said. Accardo has positioned himself where he wants to be—he has us reacting, not the other way around. He wants me desperate. He wants you uncertain. He wants us scattered, scrambling, waiting for one of us to break first, to give him the satisfaction of seeing exactly how far we’re willing to fall.”

She leaned forward slightly in her chair. “And right now, you’re giving him exactly what he wants. Instead of planning, instead of striking back, you’re questioning whether Asterion should even bother lifting a finger.”

“So what I’m asking is this: Is he in a position to capitalize on that? To strike, to take advantage of the fact that Vincent is this confident? Or is this conversation a waste. of. my. time?”

Krish seemed to be stressing out, he never had to take over anything before, since Asterion was always there. Always. If his body was mutilated or shredded, he usually jumped out of it in time, but they found themselves in such a difficult situation. Zarek began to reply to Bella, “He might have you reacting, Miss Delacroix,” he broke the silence that was between them and the woman. “Elara understood this line of life is very dangerous. We might have the abilities and resources to save her but that is not feasible at this moment. She understands that. You have called at a difficult time, we had a direct attack on Nickel, and we are currently doing everything in our power to understand that. Something that Mister Accardo seems to have nothing to do with at the moment.” 

Krish sighed and began to pet his hands through his hair trying to soothe, “We understand that Asterion was willing to help you, Bella, to an extent, but we all need proof before we can take any other steps. Actual proof. You should understand, we are weary about anyone, especially when it comes to such emotional highs. If you think this is a waste of your time, please, like Zarek had said; hang up. The Kairo Empire is dealing with repairs, investigations, and everything of our own accord. We are not against talking to you and figuring things out, but you have given us nothing to solidify your claims. The only thing that has happened is Vincent taking Elara because you had sent someone over to us. That doesn’t look like a good perspective, if you understand what I am getting at,” Krish added. 

“Plus, you are sounding very… ‘my way or the highway’ type of deal. You sound like you are trying to pressure us into jumping onto a train and attacking Vincent. We have had no issues with Vincent until Emilia came to this tower. It’s kind of giving off a lazy attempt to set up a trap, at least that’s my opinion,” Zarek spat out those words before going back to what he was doing. Looking through cabinets to find the documents that he wanted. 

The redheaded man brushed his hair with his fingers a few more times, “Bring us proof, Bella, and we are more likely to consider this seriously. Right now. We will be doing our own thing, sorry.” That sorry sounded genuine like something was truly wrong at the Kairo tower. Krish was feeling horrible that he couldn’t help Elara. That Asterion was in such a bad state that Bella couldn’t talk to him instead. It was difficult. 

“Vincent Accardo’s men are sitting comfortably in your tower. Elara is gone. My brother is bleeding in his basement. And you need proof?” A laugh, but there was no humour in it—just something brittle and dry as steel scraping against stone. “You think this is a ‘my way or the highway’ situation? No. This is a reality check.”

Another pause. Then—a shift.

“Fine. You want proof?” She leaned back, the leather of her chair sighing beneath her weight. “Tell me exactly what kind of proof you’re looking for, Krish. A body? A recording of his men laughing about how easily they took Elara? Or maybe, just maybe, the fact that your leader—your empire—is suddenly missing pieces should be all the evidence you need.” Her words were those of someone who no longer had the patience for ignorance.

“But if you’d rather sit on your hands and wait for Vincent to come knocking again—then yes. This conversation is a waste of my time.”

Her finger hovered over the end-call button this time, but hesitation flickered—sharp, fleeting, doubtful. 

For all of Emilia’s insight, had she placed faith where none was deserved? She had painted Kairo as a man who dealt in certainty. 

But this kind of hesitation was not a strategy. 

Hesitation was a weakness. 

And right now, that’s all she was seeing.

Had Kairo been waiting for a better deal? Watching the board shift, waiting to see who fell first before committing to a side? Perhaps she should have known better than to put stock in a man who built an empire in a world that only rewarded survivors. 

And survivors didn’t gamble on the losing side.

Maybe he had already decided this wasn’t his fight.

And maybe Emilia had been wrong about him all along.

“It’s not my empire, Bella, it’s Asterion’s and only Asterion’s,” Krish sighed out those words. “Can we please, speak about this in person?” The stress in his voice increased ten fold. Something was wrong and it was clearly eating at him while he was trying not to expose too much over the phone. The tower was heavily guarded, only the most trusted individuals were coming in and out, and so on. 

Krish rubbed at his face, “We can start talking about strategies off the phone lines, Bella. It would be better,” he added. “I think it would benefit you to see the tower and the empire that Asterion has created to and hopefully when you come here, you can meet Asterion as well, if he has time,” the redheaded man knew that this was an extremely risky move to make when Asterion was in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, but at the end of the day. The worst that happens is they show Bella the state that Kairo was in — then his light orbs flicked up to Jax — or have someone fill in for Asterion. Someone that could change appearances, someone that had similar body language, and everything else. Someone that they could train to become Asterion Kairo while the actual Asterion healed. “Pardon me, I misspoke. You will be able to meet Asterion if you come to the tower. He should be free in a handful of days, if that sounds good to you? And I promise this is not a waste of your time.” 

Jax seemed confused before reality hit him. Krish was looking at him while he spoke. Did Krish really think that would work? Jax shook his head in the negative. Krish shook his head in the positive before mouthing the words — You are going to become your brother until he heals up. 

Jax mouthed back — No, I can’t fucking do that, Krish. 

Yes you can, Krish mouthed back before adding — you always want to work here right? Get a job? Well step up. We need time to delay and you can be that time for us. 

Jax looked concerned and put his face into his hands. This whole thing was beginning to stress him out. He wanted a job here, something like an assistant, or a guard, or something. Not actually pretending to be his brother even though he joked about it with him plenty of times. He wouldn’t be a good Asterion, would he? 

A lingering silence, and then, finally-

“A handful of days.” Her voice was flat, unreadable. “I hope, for your sake, that Asterion’s empire still has days left.” A sigh followed as she reached for her whiskey. The amber liquid swirled lazily within the glass, catching the light in slow, gilded ribbons. A distraction. A momentary reprieve from the truth gnawing at the edges of her mind.

Because she wasn’t even sure if Mathieu had hours left, let alone days.

Her fingers curled tighter around the glass, and then after a beat-

“Two days.” A simple decree. No room for argument. “If Asterion’s in a position to talk by then, I’ll stop by.”

And if he wasn’t—then this conversation, like so many before it, was already dead.

Krish nodded and was slightly relieved, “We will see you in two days, Bella, and we will be waiting for your arrival. Thank you.” Then the anxiety began to fill his body, they had only two days to train Jax to be a fill-in for Asterion. Two days.
Qia Member

A Little Weasel

Status

Recent Statuses

Bio

Most Recent Posts
