#✦✧ edward mordrake // visage ✧✦

[feelfear]

anita & edward for @fataletm

like this for an edit

[horrificks-a]

tag dump

[spookyheaad]

Another Tesoro sketchdump!

Some interloper stuff too!

I’ll start with Interloper stuff because I have a lot.

@heavenlyborne @goldenshowman

I have an idea for using the “two face”/“dr. Jeckyll & mr. hyde” metaphor because it’s a great metaphor both in a solely symbolic sense, and in the physical sense.

I like portraying Interloper through Tesoro like this, half of his body is the Interloper’s visage, showing that it is a part of who he is, as he was the catalyst for its existence. He tries to separate himself from it, and succeeds, but as with any trauma, it will always haunt him.

I can feel it behind my eyes, crawling between muscle and the epidermal layer. There’s that monster, slithering behind human skin. Please help me; get it out.

The inspiration for the idea is from one of my own original characters; one of my favorite boys :))

I’ve spoken about him very briefly; his name is Ambrose.

To make it short and relevant to this post, he was taken by cultists to be a ritualistic sacrifice, they attempted the sacrifice & it was botched, which caused him to be heavily disfigured. He shares sentience with the being that tried to overtake his body, but because the ritual was botched, it has very limited cognizance/sentience. While awake, Ambrose is able to suppress it. But when he sleeps it tends to gain control. You can hear it babbling and mumbling away in Ambrose’s quarters, attempting to haul threats and insults as it’s one eye follows around anyone who comes within its line of sight.

(For anyone curious, my inspiration for Ambrose was the tale of Edward Mordrake. It’s unfortunately not a true story, but damn I wish it was, just because of how uncanny and crazy it is.)

I love my boy Ambrose please give him love.

Drawing Interloper is like venting out pain for me, but also I really like drawing my fav characters in pain as well. I mean who doesn’t tbh.

I love doing this for Tesoro in a strictly metaphorical portrayal, mainly because I don’t have the brain power to do it in a literal sense like Ambrose yet. This is only something Tesoro would experience in a night terror, finding Interloper is just him, literally hiding inside his skin.

“I know it’s a part of me; that is an indisputable fact. But it’s actually kind of scary. Knowing that something you’ve done follows you around because of your terrible decisions.”

Ok to end it off let’s throw something wholesome into the mix. I can never explain it well but the way Tesoro behaves around Stella is so god damn adorable, I’ll just have to draw it out after work.

This is common knowledge but he loves Stella’s kisses.

[devientdeco]

The October Appointment

Rain pelted the windows of Dr. Greyson's office. Dr. William Greyson sat hunched over his desk, enjoying the sound of the rain as he recorded an entry in a notebook, illuminated only by a small desk lamp. The date, written in corner of the page, was October 31st. The world outside was dark and bleak and normally William would be hunting his prey at this hour, but he decided to stay in from the rain this evening and preform his hunt later in the evening. After all, it was only 9:30. He quietly hummed, but decided some music would work better. He turned on the cathedral radio he kept on a shelf by his desk, and soon the sounds of Nocturne City Classical Radio filled his dark office. The Goldberg Variations, if he wasn't mistaken. He quietly hummed along, occasionally gesturing like a conductor with his pencil. He frowned when static interrupted the program. He noticed a rather unnatural green light(or was that smoke?) from underneath the door. The psychiatrist frowned as it creaked open and revealed a rather old-fashioned figure suit and shoes. He looked up and saw a handsome face with long black hair under an old top hat. William said "I'm afraid my office is closed. I'll have to ask you to leave at once and call again tomorrow." The man walked in, uncaring. He said, in a cultured English accent "I'm afraid I'm not here to discuss my problems with you my good sir, but to hear your own." William scowled. "I must insist that you leave, sir. Kindly depart at once." The man did not seem to care. His expression remained stony as he said "I am Edward Mordrake and I am have been summoned to this town this evening. I am here to take someone with me to the other side, perhaps you." Greyson frowned again. He had heard of the legend of Edward Mordrake, but dismissed this as a prank. Mordrake bowed low and exposed his grinning second face, its eyes alight with malice and evil. Will was taken aback, shocked but scowled in anger after a moment. "Get out of my office! This is merely a Halloween trick. But I am no fool! I am Dr. William Greyson and I-" his rant was cut short when 2 ghostly freaks grabbed him by the arms and slammed him into his desk chair. Mordrake said "I assure you, my good Doctor, I am no All Hallows Eve jest. Now, relax for a moment Doctor. You are so accustomed to hearing the pain of others, but we would hear your pains. Reveal your darkness to us Doctor." "I don't want to be your victim! I've so much left to do!" Mordrake replied "I assure you my sir, I do not wish to make you, so obviously a learned gentleman, a victim, any more than I wish to make anyone a victim. I wish only to be free, but the visage is unrelenting. I am it's slave, and I must ask you to confess your darkest sins." Greyson struggled against the ghostly freaks, but was slammed down into the chair again. "I've got nothing to confess." Mordrake sat opposite of him, on the couch. "Do not lie to us Doctor, for it will know. Tell us your sins, or I shall extract them myself." William said "I create...art. I create art from death. The corpse is my canvas, blood is my paint, and the knife my paintbrush. I make bad people into beautiful works of art." Mordrake said "That is what you do, yes, but we would know more. You do not satisfy. Make the demon feel, for better or for worse. Tell us. Tell us of your first act of darkness. Your first work of so-called art. Your first victim, Doctor." Greyson felt the pressure on him loosen slightly, so he lunged forward again, only for the freaks to slam him down and hold him tighter than ever. If he could just reach his knives... "There can be no escape until we have heard your corruption drip from your own tainted lips Doctor. Tell us....or we shall force it from you." "I was in school, at Miskatonic University up in Arkham, for my degree. I developed a...disagreement with a fellow student, Jack Montag. A Yankee, obviously. It started over a simple argument about Freud and the validity of his theories. But it soon escalated to a war between us. One night he came over to my apartment off campus. Our argument escalated to a degree that I felt it necessary to take physical action. I stabbed him in the chest with a kitchen knife. Then I kept stabbing. And stabbing. And stabbing. And stabbing long after he stopped breathing. I felt no remorse for what I had done. The first thing I noticed about Jacks body was how asymmetrical the blood stains were. That bothered me. Things that that always have...an obsession with order, you see? So I corrected it. Then I decided to see if I could make his corpse look better, wound-wise. All the stabs to the chest made the other cuts seem insignificant and unworthy of attention. So I cut the body up some more and soon I was carving artwork and patterns." He paused, and smiled a disarming smile, that belied the horror of what he was saying. "It was....it was....beautiful. You see, for everything that is destroyed, something new is created. Art validates my actions, because creation requires destruction. To create a canvas, you must first harvest the cotton and the flax, and chop down the tree to get the wood used to make the canvas. How is my artwork any different? Life is full of death because art requires it. Life imitates art, Mr. Mordrake. Perhaps, the next time you come to our fair city, I can show you some of my works?" Edward heard his second face murmuring, a low eldritch whispering. "You are a fiend, Doctor. But you are an exceptionally intelligent man, one who recognizes that you kill. You delude yourself into thinking you create when you destroy. I do not pity you. You are interesting but you are most certainly not unique. You are a fiend, and a remorseless one at that. But you are not the one." In a moment, the apparition was gone and the ghostly green fog was receding. William shook his head as the radio picked up right where it left off. The Goldberg Variations again. For nearly five minutes he sat, assessing this new information. Clearly the legends were real. It stood to reason that the other legends were true as well, perhaps even the tales of the monstrosities in the swamps. His ancestor, Thomas Greyson had led the towns doctors into the swamps with blades, killing people harboring the plague, while wearing the old plague masks. The people they killed were supposedly undead. He glanced at the plague doctors mask in the glass display case on the other side of the room. His ancestors mask and sword were on display, under a painting Will had painted of Thomas in his mask and attire posing with his sword. William shuddered slightly. The evenings event had been very disturbing, but a little hunt would help him focus. It always did. He hummed and half-said, half-sang the Ink Spots "If I Didn't Care" to himself, trying to calm himself as he put his knife and his scalpel in a pocket before descending the stairs and stepping into the cold October night, hoping to find a fresh canvas. (Edited to include some new lines, and to reflect the changes to Greyson's office)

[gettingrarer-blog]

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[feelfear]

random edits 1/?

[feelfear]

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