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elinorsmuses · 4 years ago

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Margaret has been watching the man out of the corner of her eye. It’s the woman that she’s been following; she’s an odd one, Anne. People rarely come to Silent Hill so early on their journeys, but it’s because the two of them are locked together at different points, parallel, but not perpendicular.

But now Anne is gone. Whether she’s saved, good, worthy, is up to her, but Margaret likely won’t know; the town rarely calls people back, if they manage to leave. Now, the man is all that’s left. His fate unlocked from Anne’s, free from the town. She wonders what he’ll do. Some who leave Silent Hill have a life to go back to, but this one smells of loss and pain, and more than that, disconnection. She has seen the prison in the nightmare he shared with Anne; she knows he has been separated from the world for much longer than his time in Silent Hill.

He walks through the woods, away from the town, but still within its sphere of influence, and she follows him, hidden one layer beneath the world he can see. He’s walking in the world that is, now. She watched him from the world the town creates.

@phantomdream

#parallel #phantomdream #muse: margaret #v: demi-goddess

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elinorsmuses · 4 years ago

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Am I back?

Short answer: Kind of. So I posted a while back about switching to writing more on Discord, and honestly I have preferred that lately. But I’ve got a couple people I write with who don’t use Discord, and I don’t want to lose those threads forever, so I’m posting here again.

Right now, I don’t really have the energy to maintain a full tumblr sort of presence. Basically, I’m unlikely to be posting a lot of ask memes, and there are some parts of my muse bios that are under construction and are likely to remain incomplete for the foreseeable future. (If you need more info, I’m always more than happy to chat about these muses), and I’m probably not going to be getting through all my drafts and actually catching up all the way.

I unfollowed A LOT of people. First of all, I know some people like you to soft block them if you unfollow them, and I forgot to do that. I unfollowed a lot of people who I’ve been mutuals with and never really talked to or written with. If you’re one of those people, and you go to say hi and notice I’m not following you, it’s still rad to say hi.

I want to say I’m open to new partners and new threads, because I always want to meet new people and tell new stories, but I also don’t want to over-promise. Once again, if you want to say hi, don’t let that stop you, but please don’t be sad if it takes me forever to actually get writing. I still have some people who I really want to get back to who I’ve owed replies for like, months.

What I’m saying is that I love writing and I’m tired and it’s been just a wild year so far. If you’re one of the people who I’ve owed for forever, or who I’ve talked about a starter with and never gotten to it, I see you and I love you. Like I know it can be the worst feeling when it seems like a mutual isn’t that interested in your thread, so like, I promise, I’m interested, I’m just very tired.

#blog updates #brain maintenance #I didn't mean this to sound quite as down at it does #i'm honestly excited to be a little bit back

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elinorsmuses · 4 years ago

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phantomdream:

〚 ❣ 〛 “Stories are known to embellish the truth,” he says with a shrug, raising his glass and taking another long drink from it. What he says isn’t entirely untrue, though the embellishments can go either way, making the creature more terrifying or fanciful than they are, or far less mild and leading to a surprise for the unsuspecting hunter.

“White skin, eyes like stars, shows only to the purest of hearts. Sounds like horseshit made up by those who want to see her but never have.” Just as this woman watches him, so, too, does he watch for her reactions to his dismissal. He has seen many get offended by his lack of belief in their tales, and others call him a fool for it. He doesn’t know what to expect from her, but as he drains the ale in one last long draught, he pushes the cup aside and leans his arm on the table towards her.

“But Witchers are good at finding those beasts that supposedly only show themselves to a select few. What good would they be otherwise?” It’s rhetorical, of course, but all the same, he gives her a brief eyebrow raise, almost a challenge, and reclines again in his seat.

Whoever this woman is, she seems almost protective of the Vila, though he supposes he can’t blame her. Any creature that rids the area of kikimora and keeps the area safe is welcome to most any village, especially one of this size. He imagines there’s hardly a warrior here, and the few they might have are probably not as well trained as they could be, so defense isn’t high. A vila would make for a very good protector. Assuming, of course, no one offended her, if this woman’s story is to be believed.

“Besides, I’d just like a look. If she’s not doing anyone any harm, then I’ve no business attacking her. Not really in my code to kill those who are not a threat.” He supposes anything and anyone can be a threat at some point, but some are far less inclined to be so.

Marghrite laughs out loud, a true, bold laugh, when he tells her the story sounds like horseshit. It’s easier when people believe her stories, but of course a witcher would be a good deal more worldly than the villagers of Azmar. “I suppose it does,” she says. “And of course I haven’t seen her. But isn’t it a pretty thought.”

She grins. “All I really need to know is that there’s something out there that kills kikimora, but doesn’t touch children or livestock. She could be a hag, I’d still owe her thanks.” It’s been a while since someone’s questioned her story, so she hopes she’s selling her response. Perhaps the honesty of her laugh and her smile will carry over the dishonesty of the words.

She’s about to change the subject when she feels something; a sudden, biting panic from somewhere behind her, and it takes all her strength not to flinch or turn. She still gives the tiniest of twitches, a surprised blink. Luckily, it’s only a second later that the shouting starts.

When she does turn, she recognizes the man as Sandro, one of the local farmers. Usually a cheerful, almost jolly man, now his eyes are wide with the panic she can feel radiating from him, his hands and shirt smeared with blood. “Something’s got Till Dodgerdod,” he’s saying, in between hyperventilating gasps. “Something...didn’t see it...tore ‘im up, cracked ‘is skull...only saw one arm…” “

Well,” Marghrite says, not quite turning back to the witcher because she isn’t sure she has the proper amount of fear on her face. “Looks like you do have some work, after all.”

#the vila #phantomdream #muse: margaret #v: marghrite

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elinorsmuses · 4 years ago

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phantomdream:

〚 ❣ 〛 Though Claire is used to being the one driving, she doesn’t mind this time being in back, leaning her helmeted head against Leon’s back and holding him around the waist. Leon has always been one of the very few she’s felt comfortable like this with, and she trusts him to get them to their destination safely. She thinks maybe it’s taking longer than she expects, but she doesn’t know her way around here like he does, so she just watches the lights flash by over his shoulder, a soft smile on her lips.

When they park, she gets off the bike with no hesitation, though if he’d wanted to go around the block a few times, she wouldn’t have minded, either. “You did great, no fearing for my life at all,” she says, holding her hand out for the keys and pocketing them into her jacket. He keeps talking, and she wants to say that his co-worker needs to grow a pair if he thinks Leon’s driving was bad (if it’s anything like what just happened, which really was fine), but then he keeps going and now she’s got about eighteen questions to ask.

She laughs as she pushes the door open to let them in. “No, I don’t much like sushi, but I’ll find something else on the menu. And, I’m sorry, infected sheep? No, you didn’t tell me about infected sheep, and I think I might be mad about that now.“

“I didn’t tell you about the sheep? This nutcase--you don’t expect farmer’s to be the mad scientist type, right? Well, he’d gotten some black market virus and he wanted to ‘improve’ the sheep.” He embellished his words with air quotes as they walked inside. Seeing that there was a short wait, he went to the podium and asked for a table for two before sitting down in the small waiting area.

“So, you know how the T-Virus usually affects animals. So I’m standing there, looking up at this sheep that’s the size of a horse and real angry...wait,” he wrinkled his brown. “Hang on, stop the presses. You don’t like sushi? I could have sworn you liked sushi. Damn.” He gave an overly dramatic sigh, and turned to look Claire dead in the eye. “I didn’t mean for this to be a raw deal for you.”

#a little more normal #phantomdream #muse: leon #v: main #timeline: degeneration

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elinorsmuses · 4 years ago

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chasiingrain:

〚 ❣ 〛 “You’re definitely not a Maggie or a Meg, so it’s a deal.” He can’t help but want to reach out for her hand, to touch her arm, something to comfort her, but he’s still wary, both for his life and for her apparent want to not be touched. He thinks he gets it, even if he hasn’t been through what her scars imply she’s been through; she’s been traumatized, hurt beyond reason, can’t even remember everything that’s happened to her. Last time she’d been touched, it was probably in whatever experiments had been done to her.

So he keeps his hands close and listens as she tries to work through her thoughts, and fuck he feels for her. She’d been so angry and dangerous before, and now she’s vulnerable and crying, and he doesn’t know how to help or what to do. Doesn’t know if she even wants his help, or if she’d just as soon kill him for seeing her like this.

“You don’t have to try to remember if you don’t want to,” he says softly, but he knows it isn’t easy to forget, not when it’s something so defining, so painful. It isn’t really the same, but the betrayal by his commander still resonates with him, makes him wonder sometimes who he can trust, if he even really should. “We’ve been fighting Umbrella for a while, so unless there’s another hidden team of bioweapon engineers, I’m guessing they’re the ones responsible.” A fair guess, and he’s only known Margaret for a short time but he already wants to murder Umbrella for her.

It’s her next question that has him leaning back against the glass wall behind him and sighing, eyes shifting up to look at the ceiling of the hotel lobby, and he remembers when Rebecca let him go when she realized he wasn’t a murderer of innocents. Not that he needs that comparison to know what to do, but it’s reminiscent in some ways.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting his head against the glass so he can look back at her. “It’d be pretty shitty of me to tell you no. You could probably kill me if I did, anyway.” He gives her another small smirk, a quiet laugh; an attempt at humor to show he’s teasing, even if she really could kill him. “So yeah. You want to get outta here, I won’t stop you.”

His words take a minute to sink in. She doesn’t expect him to say yes; she expected some speech about orders, about how whoever he’s working for are the good guys, etcetera, etcetera. So when he says yes, she doesn’t quite know what to do.

“Thanks, Billy,” she says. Her voice is still a little shaky, but evening out. She stands, turns, looks to him one more time to see that he’s stopping her, and then she takes off at a run for the side exit of the lobby. She doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t even go upstairs to gather her belongings. She doesn’t want to risk him changing his mind.

She doesn’t see him again, not for a long time. Time passes, and she changes. She creeps back into humanity, moving through cities larger enough to get lost in. She buys a fake identity, with money she’s looted from lost cities, from a man who doesn’t care if she’s human or not. Discovers she knows how to use a computer, and starts to look for work online. She goes out at night, to clubs where no one can really see her in the dark, when she gets lonely. In the daytime she wears sunglasses and gloves, sometimes a scarf she can pull over her face. Tells people she has a skin condition if they look too close.

She learns about herself. She discovers that she’s more than strong, more than fast, more than indestructible. She can sense things she shouldn’t. The more time she spends with people, the more she realizes that she can feel what they’re feeling. If she concentrates, she can influence it, too. She doesn’t do it much; the power scares her. Most often she uses it to make people feel less curious when they wonder who she is.

She doesn’t look for Umbrella, for outbreaks, or bioterrorists, or BOWs. She’s already had her revenge. But when she hears about outbreaks, she still goes. If someone asked her why, she wouldn’t be able to answer them. But more and more, she finds herself in disaster zones, snapping the necks of zombies and monsters and pulling people out of the wreckage.

When she sees Billy again, two years have passed, and she is a different woman. She recognizes him easily, even though he has a new haircut, and long sleeves covering his tattoos. She sees him first; he’s facing away from her, firing into a group of infected as something with claws creeps up behind him.

“Hey! Tough guy! Behind you!”

@phantomdream

#tough guy #phantomdream #muse: margaret #v: test subject #i can't even remember my old tags

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elinorsmuses · 4 years ago

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