#;metrictita : malachi

[ardenssolis]

@metrictita said (inbox):

a click of malachi's tongue could be heard as he regarded the other, though, not a twitch on his facial features. just that fake smile. "your presence is almost blinding, how troublesome." a chuckle. "i shall assign you this one . . . " & thus, out of nowhere, a plushie in the shape of a lion would fall into the other's grasp. "sons of the sun as they're called, though, quite overrated in my opinion."

     HUH…THIS ONE WAS hard to read. He knew the smile was lacking in sincerity, but it wasn’t necessarily plastered in place out of dislike. From a glance alone, normally Ozymandias could at least discern another’s intention, but in this case, he was quite at a loss. What was going through those thoughts right now? Why had they even approached in the first place? Quiet, he merely awaited a response, a brow raising with questions he did not bother to voice just yet. Although his mouth did open to reply to the other’s words, he held very little chance to do so when, out of nowhere, a small…toy was placed into his hand. ❝…W-What is this?❞ He had been given many offerings in his life, though this was…certainly different. Lifting his hand a little higher, his confusion soon morphed into intrigue. ❝Sons of the sun, you say.❞ The ‘overrated’ comment was casually ignored, Ozymandias only caring about the first part. ❝Heh, I rather like this quaint little thing. Your offering is accepted.❞

     He was going to put it on his dresser---

[futurefind]

"oh, how sad . . . " malachi hummed whilst his darkened gaze remained fixated upon sasume; though, it seemed as if he was looking through her. & with the snap of gloved fingers would a plushie in the shape of a turtle fall into the other's hands. "animals that were left alone from the beginning. always having to fend for themselves . . . " a pause. "hiding within the safety of their shell & keeping everyone out, though, what will one do if someone finally breaks through?"

Unprompted* / Always Accepting // @metrictita

"What?" is all she says at first, left only to send the other an utterly baffled look— what's sad? How? And what the hell does she—

Startles as a too-tiny plush falls into her hands. Though it's too flexible for her to worry about breaking it, it still feels like too much to dare to properly grip it either. Not with her strength.

She almost misses his words— except she doesn't, and each one just makes her all the more puzzled with every word.

"....What does that have to do with anything?" she huffs, tucking the plush into her breast pocket (leaving the head exposed). Confusion gives way just enough to realize she'd been asked a question herself, and huffs.

"Get some fucking glue—?"

Presuming anyone ever could, in the first place.

[attroxx]

❛ @metrictita said . . . ❛ what is with your weird fascination with me? ❜ (from malachi, for luci lmao malachi rlly thinks he's the shit im so sorry JHSJ ) ❜

𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐃. yellow hues dance across the water, back facing malachi. lucifer isn't exactly sure as to why malachi seems so . . . irritable. space shared between the two always ended up in malachi being visibly uncomfortable. their first meeting had been understandable. but lucifer finds it hard to see why malachi might still feel unease by his presence. their words are flippant, uncaring and worst of all, assuming. but lucifer keeps his spot on the grass warm, not finding this conversation worth turning to face malachi for. a mother duck and her babies follow behind in a row, catching lucifer's attention for a brief moment before reminding himself to respond.

❛ fascination ? you're putting words in my mouth. ❜ the mother duck steps out of the water onto the grass, the baby duckling following suit without a second thought. ❛ you're a means to an end. that is all. ❜ lucifer was never one to beat around the bush, it'd get you nowhere fast. nor did he care for malachi's feelings in any sense. what the other thought of him did not cross his mind.

❛ i can put an end to this operation entirely if you'd like to opt out. ❜ the other must know what he means without having to spell it out for him. ❛ you do not fascinate me. you do nothing for me. ❜

for the damaged. — accepting.

[unboundtravels]

𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅 𝑇𝑅𝐸𝐾: 𝐓𝐎𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒: accepting.

@metrictita said: ❝ only blood can wash out blood. ❞ (from malachi, to war!)

AT THE SIGHT OF CALAMITY, Malachi always appeared before The Renegade. His appearances had started to exhaust him, but he powered through each one. Today, it was at the sight of a slaughter. A dogfight two solar systems away had produced such terrible shockwaves that debris was spreading toward the neighboring planets. This lush jungle wrapped around an expansive city once, where they stood. Now, it was a charred wasteland and the people had suffered greatly. To adjust to the changes, they'd constructed huge domes, and not even those could withstand the calamity. There was nothing left, anymore. Just ash and cinder, the remains of what had been. He was just thinking about something terrible when Malachi crept into his ear. Something truly dreadful.

He was thinking about how he could've stopped this war from ever happening.

A long, long time ago, he'd held the Daleks' life in his hands. All he'd had to do was touch two wires together. That time had passed, and he'd said plenty of times before about how much he'd regretted it. Yet, when Malachi whispered into his ear, the Renegade found himself— perhaps for the first time, feeling a sort of satisfaction that he hadn't. Perhaps it was just to spite Malachi, to know that his words were egging nothing out of The Renegade, for the choice had been made and the failure had happened. The Demon's words now potentially referred to something The Renegade thought to be silly: Only more violence can end this war. The War Doctor exhaled, his hands resting behind his back, thumb pressing into his palm softly. He inhaled, Malachi still standing behind him as he rolled his shoulders somewhat.

"I'm perfectly fine with the amount on my hands, already." He said clearly, "But if you're offering yours," He turned to face him again, gaze narrowing, "You're catching me at a point where I just might consider it."

[attroxx]

❛ @metrictita said . . . [ rainfall ] sender finds receiver out alone in the rain / from malachi, for lucifer! ❜

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐘 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍. the form makes no move to get out of the rain, letting it wash over them in silence. the presence behind him is sensed before it's ever seen. but lucifer doesn't get the sense that he's been snuck upon, instead malachi seems weary of approaching him which is to be expected despite their previous face to face meeting. lowering his chin yellow eyes scan the water hitting the pavement. the street is empty, most humans hiding from the rain as if it might melt them upon contact. the angel finds solace in it though. under the cover of a gloomy sky lucifer appears more like a ghost than a person.

❛ you don't shelter from the rain, do you ? ❜ the question is rather inconsequential but something in lucifer's tone says there's more to it than meets the eye. finally they turn to face malachi, sunny hues lifting to look him dead on. ❛ you and i, we are alike in many ways. ❜

angst meme. ― accepting.

[unboundtravels]

𝑼𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅 : 𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 

@metrictita asked: "Well, isn't this interesting?" 𝑀a𝑙a𝑐h𝑖 mused whilst his eyes remained steadfast upon the war doctor's form, an uncanny smile lingering upon his features. & with the snap of gloved fingers a plushie in the shape of a wolf falls into the other's hands. "lonely, so lonely . . . always fighting alone, aren't we? but doesn't this go against everything they stand for." a pause, accompanied by a chuckle. "shouldn't you go and find your pack? a lone wolf is never strong on its own." 

The field in which they stand is littered with debris. A petrified forest on the edge of what was once a populated, beautiful galaxy. Dust and ash cake his form, making the brown leather of his U-boat jacket look like a dusty grey. Fibers of ash dot his hair, whilst soot marks and bruises litter his face and knuckles. Tired, empty brown eyes trail upward and his eyes look distant and numb. The tie keeping his hair wrapped in a bun is looser. The devastation that has ravaged this world is evident only by a dying flame reflected in the warrior's eyes. A long, heavy sigh escapes him as he traces his fingertips over the band-aid on his nose. 

Then he hears that voice.

His back remains turned toward the voice, and the way it creeps down against his spine makes the warrior feel as if the voice is all around him. Like gangly, spindly fingers, he can feel the pinpricks of an invisible force attempting to penetrate his mind. He remains firm, his shoulders (albeit weighted) remain upright and his fists remain tight. Until suddenly they're filled with something soft and plush. Finally, his eyes travel down to what's in his hand. He can't quite describe the feelings manifesting on his features. Numbness, mostly. He wonders if the entity picked this up from the rubble of the waste. 

There's only silence from him. For a moment, anyway. His fingers trace over the object in his hand and his eyes remain in a heavy, half-lidded motion. A singular exhale is all that's audible. Purposeful release. He doesn't give the entity as much energy as the renegade feels he's craving. He simply looks up at the air, watching as it turns red. There's a moment where he lets the ash seemingly cling to his face like it's rain pouring down on him. Eventually, he opens his eyes and looks forward. His voice slips out, an old man's voice creeping out from a young visage. Weighted down by the tragedies that have set the universe aflame. Tragedies that have allowed malicious entities like himself to creep out into the open, to touch what they normally cannot. To take what they normally shouldn't. Nobody's standing at the gates, nobody's defending the line. 

Not at first, anyway.

"You seem to have me confused with someone else."

He turns to half-face the entity. Malachi meets empty eyes, absent of light. The flickering of flame reflected in the deep pupils. He holds the plushie as if he's holding something dear. It's not dear to him, but it's dear to everyone else. Everyone he's fighting for. Despite the fact he stands alone on this battlefield, he stands his ground against the presence standing before him, the one that attempts to seep into his soul. Despite the choices he's made, despite the blood on his hands— he's no coward. He's in this deep, and there's no going back for him. Doctor no more. 

"I don't have a desire to run with my pack." He states firmly, "I'm sure you've seen the chaos they've wrought. It's bad enough that they started this war... but for me to fight alongside them is an insult to those who can't fight for themselves." He sets the beanie baby down gently before he turns to face Malachi in full. His hands remain at his side. He inhales firmly, and his eyes open. "I do fine on my own, anyways." That flickering of flame is brighter in his eyes as he states it. 

After all...

He's alone on this battlefield for a reason. If Malachi's looking to find out, then the warrior is all but happy to oblige.