“When I first joined the Horsemen, I honestly didn’t think I fit in.” It wasn’t something so easily admitted out loud. Lula was generally optimistic to a fault, but insecurities and doubts were a part of being human and she had quite a few. “I’d wondered if maybe there had been a mistake in recruiting me. I wasn’t as good as the others, I wasn’t even in the same league.”
Nervous fingers tapped against a jean clad leg and Lula shifted a little. It was a little easier, she supposed, to bring up these thoughts with Dylan. He had, after all, become the sort of father figure she’d needed when she didn’t really have one. God knows her own father hadn’t been the best in the world. Dylan was understanding in a way that most people weren’t and it was something she both admired and respected.
“I don’t think that as much as I used to, but there are some days those thoughts come back and I could really use some of your good advice..” Or some encouragement, whichever.
in spite of the instinctive flinch, the frown drawing upon his face hearing her, dylan refused to freeze still upon lula’s words: rather, very slowly and deliberately looking up from the papers and pictures ahead of him, collecting them together and placing the whole file aside, never breaking eye contact. he understood her cause for doubt of her fitting in ( to say the same thought had not once crossed his mind before bringing her along would be a lie ), had known its possibility to be there, only perhaps hoped her confidence ran just deep enough for those feelings to never surface to where she could feel them.
“ there’s not much ADVICE i can give you. ” lula was anything but an obvious choice, but she had been whom dylan had needed—lula was someone who would refuse to blend in with the other horsemen, someone whom the boys could not pretend wasn’t present, someone memorable, that dylan had always been sure about. the fact that she was a talented magician was a secondary thing—but no less noteworthy. listing off her strengths to himself was easy. making her see them… that could be a whole another thing. “ i’m usually not in the business of second-guessing who i want to be here. ” even henley’s choice, he would defend to the death, despite everything. “ you know what’s triggering those thoughts? ”
so many relics such as this one were stashed away in a place where no one would find them for long centuries, kept safe among shelves of old letters, and trinkets left after those merlin could barely remember. that’s why his fingers slide against the eye with a cautious care, as the power of it tingles against his skin. it has been so long since he’s felt something like this. ❛ this is no toy, and it shouldn’t be kept by someone who would abuse its power. ❜
the warning is noted, but to merlin it holds no meaning other than an empty promise. he doesn’t wish to fight for an object long lost, yet it’s clear by the way he holds onto it that he easily could —— if it proved necessary. ❛ who owns it now then? i can only tell you so little without knowing more, i’m afraid. ❜ he has only allowed himself to be found to find out more, after all ; but that remains unsaid.
words stand still in his mouth, unmoving behind closed lips as dylan weighs his options — it is not in his interests to jeopardise an organisation he’s spent his life protecting, but the man requires answers for answers. “ i work for SOMEONE. her family are collectors passing it down from parent to child. they’re just looking for a name and an origin. all we know is it’s been with them for hundred-two hundred years. ”
it’s vague enough to not give anything up on the organisation, just an indication of the object’s age. the relic resembles neither the eye of the horus nor the eye’s current insignias — there’s no reason to believe its origin story has anything directly to do with the organisation. “ it’s POWERFUL, i know that much. if it’s dangerous, it’s going behind locked doors. ”
❛ Where did you find this? I haven’t seen such a thing in centuries… ❜ Fingers slide over the object, dirt revealing runes so old it takes a moment for him to remember how to read them. A strange feeling seems to overtake him for a moment, and he reaches back to times that ended so long ago ; before his hand closes over it again, and his gaze turns up.
❛ I don’t know what it is that you expect of me, but I cannot help you with this, nor should you possess it. It’s better if I take it. ❜
open.
the eye’s history is longer than dylan can comprehend, and impossible to count — too many times has it fallen off of history’s pages, relocated and changed only for the next generations to use its potential once again for anyone to permanently chronicle its journey in a way that would not get lost in time… and the same mystery clouds the oldest magical objects hidden deep within its collections. “ i CAN’T let you do that. i ain’t mine to give away. ”
it’s half a reassurance, half warning — this conversation will end with dylan holding the ring, but hopefully in mutual understanding or civil disagreement: he’s not here to pick a fight if he doesn’t need one. “ if it makes you feel better, it’s not mine to use either. ” the look the other gave it was too long ( too longing, almost ) for dylan to have doubts: he might actually walk out with information this time. “ i’m just looking for some answers before it goes back on its shelf. ”
“What does that REALLY MEAN ? I’ve seen a lot of out of shape law-enforcement. The difference between passing your physical and acing it, huh?” She’s teasing, a glimmer of humour in her eye.
“ oh, we’re going with a LAZY COP joke, are we? — ha ha. ” he knows she’s playing him. “ if you’re planing to follow up with a donut joke, i’ll save you the trouble. ”
ANGER rises fast and sharp within him, overwhelming as it blocks out all other thoughts. he lashes out, hand catching a table of props and scattering them over the floor. footsteps land heavy as he paces, whirls on his leader, turns away again. hands run through his hair, grip it, pull, as he stares up at the ceiling. a deep, shuddering breath escapes him, struggling to calm, to find some sort of level center, but he feels out of control, restless, helpless.
❛ didn’t you ever THINK for one fucking second that you couldn’t find anything on me BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO ?! ❜
his voice is hoarse, and it cracks, and for the moment, he’s too angry to even devote a second of thought to it. he feels BETRAYED - betrayed by the one person he trusts most, by the person he’s confided in.
❛ all those questions you kept asking – it’s beause you already knew, wasn’t it ? did y’think i wouldn’t find out ? did y’think i wouldn’t KNOW ? no – ❜ he interrupted himself, shaking his head, smoldering dark eyes turning on the older man. ❛ what do you think you could even say ? ❜ he’d never listen again, anyway.
he watches the outburst, hands securely anchoring him to the crate behind him, every word coming out of jack’s mouth making him smaller and smaller. for the longest time, he manages to maintain his eyes in the other’s face, force himself to take in the wrath and sadness in him as his own personal punishment — it’s only once the table hits the floor that dylan can’t pretend to have enough pride to face this. lips press together, preventing him to say his defence when it’s so obvious jack’s not looking for an explanation. “ i knew some of it. ” fragments of data, dots that just needed to be numbered so he could complete the picture. the truth’s not going to do anything to calm the other down, but it’s the least amount of respect he can give.
face finally turns back to jack, dead terrified of meeting the other’s gaze. “ jack, i’m SORRY. ” it’s a lot more forceful than his earlier words, almost defensive despite how much dylan’s trying to press that tone down: jack’s wrong, but that doesn’t mean his anger is any less justified. and dylan is genuinely sorry, but not regretful, and that’s exactly what jack doesn’t want to hear right now. “ i knew you’d wanted to reinvent yourself, you’re not the only one in this group with a made-up name, but i had to look into you. i had to know what you were running away from! ” dylan is avoiding jack’s questions — yes, he had hoped jack wouldn’t find out, at least not before they’d past a point where it didn’t matter anymore — and trying desperately to get his point of view through in the hope jack would understand when he’s calmed down.
“ i never broke your trust, jack. ” it’s a technicality: he couldn’t break what had not yet been given to him. “ i just did what i HAD to to make any of this possible. ”
danny’s fairly sure that the time is quick approaching where he really ought to focus on what he’s supposed to be doing, on getting out of the ropes — but then again dylan seemed to have this natural ability to destroy his usually reliable self restraint, so instead he cocks his head to the side and considers, because he’s not even sure dylan knows how much he’s given him to reply to right there. “ hey, i’m just as surprised as you… although the opposite is certainly an idea. ” pushing the images proffered by the idea of tying dylan up aside is harder than it has any right to be, but he manages, tilting his head back slightly and smirking. “ so you’ve thought about it. ”
there’s little he can do to mask the small shake in his breath in response to the new closeness and the quieting of dylan’s voice, even as he follows the given instruction, hooking his finger around the rope and tugging tentatively. the intimacy of the moment is unexpected, but not unwelcome, he finds, there’s comfort in dylan’s closeness that he’d never admit aloud. he swallows once, trying yet again to redirect his own attention. “ like that, right? ”
there’s little hoping danny can’t feel the small intake of breath that results when the imagery of danny tying him down to a bedframe properly hits him, drawing itself in his mind with a few details more than what is absolutely necessary. danny leans back, and dylan has to force patience within himself to not follow his first instinct and press a kiss to the newly exposed area, if for nothing else then to watch the smirk waver for a moment. “ yeah, i HAVE, ” he admits, almost adding ‘ i’ve thought about a lot of things ’ before electing to wait to see if even this idea works out first.
“ yeah, like that. you should feel which way to pull — one way, it goes tighter, one way, it doesn’t. take it slow. ” he completely decides to disregard the fact that with the direction the conversation is going, it would be in both of theirs’ best interests to get danny out of the ropes and with his hands free as soon as possible. danny is not panicking anymore, so there’s a decent chance he could get the knot untied, given that they don’t rush it… a condition that seems to be harder and harder to fulfill eah passing second.
Hello, my name is Aurora, I’m 21 years old and Finnish. EET time zone, naturally not a native speaker — if my replies make no sense, please let me know, it’s either because of me being tired or fucking up grammar. Please tag choking, somnophilia, eating disorders, suicide and bluespace, including screenshots of the dash: essentially, if the sides of the picture are the same colour as the dash, tag it.
selectivity
I am open to ocs and crossovers. This blog is mutuals only: threads, plotting and im are only for people who I have followed back. However, non-mutuals can send me asks and memes and reply to opens. I do tend to form mains and practice exclusivity, especially shipping exclusivity: the list can be found here. Note that I fully admit to being a lazy ass about checking my followers: I am currently using an extension that hides my follower count, so it is up to my own memory to remember to check the list: thus, it can take up to anything from a week to a month to check out a blog — more, if it’s a muse from something I haven’t seen yet.
pre-established relationships
If you have a non-romantic relationship idea (friends, colleagues, even family) between our muses, chances are I’ll be up for that, but do please run it through me first. This is twice as important for Horsemen ocs. The Horsemen and the dynamic between them form a large part of Dylan’s life, so I am more hesitant than most about writing with them because I need to understand why Dylan would have chosen them. I hope you can understand this.
shipping
Shipping-wise, Dylan is free game, but only if it happens with chemistry. This is even more highlighted by the fact that I play Dylan as demisexual, meaning that he doesn’t feel sexual attraction to anyone until he has a strong relationship with them, platonic or romantic.
Statistics
FULL NAME: Dylan Caspian Shrike
ALIAS: Dylan Rhodes (active from 1990 to 2015)
AGE: 44
BIRTH DATE: December 21, 1971
GENDER: Cis male
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual
RELIGION: Atheist
SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English (native), Mandarin, Cantonese, French, Italian, some Greek
CURRENT HOUSING: Apartment connecting to The Eye’s headquarters in London
OCCUPATION: The “fifth” Horseman, leader of The Eye’s western base. Worked as a mole in the FBI until being exposed publicly at the end of 2015
relationships
PARENTS: Lionel Shrike (deceased in March 6, 1984), Henriette Shrike (deceased in October 20, 1988)
SIBLINGS: None
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Currently, none
CHILDREN: Unable to have
physical traits
EYE COLOUR: Brown
HAIR COLOUR: Dark brown, greying
HEIGHT: 5'7½
BODY TYPE: Short, square, somewhere between builtfat and chubbyfat.
personality
INTELLIGENCE: Book-smarts: studied engineering in college, degree in Criminology, mathematical brain. Strategist by nature.
DISPOSITION: Intelligent and calculating. Extroverted, but prefers a small social circle. Needs to feel in control, tends to take a leadership position very easily, as well as responsibility over others. Strong moral compass and need to see justice served.
Biography
Dylan Caspian Shrike was the first and only child born to Henriette Wilson, a former actress, and Lionel Shrike, a famous magician and a member of The Eye. The family lived in an apartment New York they owned, greatly relying on Lionel’s profession to supply for them. Partly to this, Lionel was largely absent at home, always performing, practicing, or travelling to China to buy equipment for his tricks. Dylan always knew his father first as a magician, and only then as a father.
This not-ideal but functioning life came to a stop when Thaddeus Bradley revealed how all of Lionel’s magic tricks were done in the pilot of his show, leaving the family unsure how Lionel’s career would handle such a blow. In an attempt to regain spotlight, Lionel insisted on doing a trick Thaddeus had called impossible: to break out from being handcuffed in a safe in the middle of a river. Dylan watched his father go down in the safe but the metal the safe was made of warped, making the escape impossible and causing Lionel to drown. Because his body nor the safe was ever found, his life insurance claim was denied, and the family was left without a penny.
Dylan always blamed the death of his father above all on Thaddeus Bradley, and after his mother had to give him up for adoption at the age of 12, Dylan started to plan for revenge. He spent most of his teenage years in a group home and two foster families, copying his father’s tricks and practicing some of his own, never specialising in anything in particular, finding himself more interested in the behind-the-scenes work that went into the larger tricks.
He started to study engineering in college, but The Eye gave him another task: take a new identity — that of Dylan Rhodes — and move to study Criminology in order to become a mole in the FBI. This alias gave him a possibility to start working on his plan to bring those responsible for his father’s death and the hardships that followed: a group of magicians that would bring the art back to a global spotlight whilst using their abilities to deceive for a greater cause. Gathering resources, perfecting his plan, and making it possible to do without known help from The Eye — as is required from applicants — was a long process, but he finally got it to motion in February 2013.
