#.ic

[estarion]

my birthday is in nine days. if you owe me a gift, i'll let you know in an addendum beneath this notice. shitty offerings will be set on fire and catapulted at your tent. thank you. — ASTARION.

[il-mostrc]

The high was still met even as a thousand stabbing needles erupted across his body. It is as if the prediction was accurate when he quoted Will: "You and I are suspended over the roiling Atlantic. Soon all of this will be lost to the sea."  

And they were lost, stricken by the lull of the ocean. Hannibal's thoughts were only on the fist that gripped Will, kicking as the tide, in turn, grasped onto his body and forced him below. Hannibal was a survivor, as he exhibited time and time again. An avid swimmer, he used his legs to push himself with Will until he breached the surface. His limbs were tired from the battle and battered waves and he forced the peripheral vision of darkness away.

The coldness of the water numbed his limbs, and before long, he was unsure if he was still maintaining a kicking motion. The shore was within reach but the tide was drawing him away, his hands and muscles aching as they continued to latch onto Will. Then darkness succumbed despite the fight against it. A bell of a dingy is heard before all is muffled to the sea.  

-----

Seaweed. Salt. Fish.

The fragrance finally brought him to his senses, the faint red glow behind his eyelids as he felt the stiffened limbs of his body move gingerly. The softness of a mattress lay beneath him. Slowly, he opens his eyes to see the aged boards of a cabin ceiling above him. A crackling fire is heard, the scent again-- this time of a stew composed of fish. He remembers his wounds and his fingers reach for the location of the bullet. Underneath chapped fingertips, the roughness of bandages is felt.

Will.

He jerked himself upwards and witnessed the swimming dizziness of his head. For an individual with high pain tolerance, he can still discern all the stiffness in his joints, and a faint exasperation filters out of his lips. The owner of this cabin is nowhere to be seen, and thus far, he has seen no sign of Will. Examining the surroundings, he deduces whoever dragged him here lived alone and quickly notes the folded clothing on the crude dresser to his right. A hermit, perhaps. Hunting paraphernalia adorns the walls; dried salted fish hang from the ramparts—the scent of a dog.

Will's clothes or at least what was left of them. He finds himself stripped of his own, wearing only the skivvies he had on before the fall under a layer of blankets. The cabin feels warm despite its elementary nature; a howling wind erupts from outside. Will has always taken longer to heal; for once, he can't depict the scent of his aftershave: a blessing and a worrisome event.

@psychoanalyzed

[courcgecus]

Cynthia has been talking more and more about her dream of being a dancer and hoping to attend classes.

How on Earth could she make her dream come true... she wouldn't wish to just break it. But they are barely making it yet. And classes... where on Earth she would find a teacher?

[meadowlarksabove]

@caesaremvehis caught Gabban staring

He had caught it, the lasting stare. Subtle as it was (so subtle the Legate was honestly not even sure whether it was anything at all, or if perhaps he had just imagined it) he gave the benefit of the doubt for a moment, until he had decided that the moment had lasted long enough. The towering brute turned halfway, until he was able to properly face the Frumentarius standing a few feet away from him. "If you have something to say, speak it."

Gabban had been watching the installation of the Howitzer from afar, leaning against a stack of crates as he enjoyed the open air and the late afternoon sun, drying the blood on his apron with the breeze. The machine was much bigger than he had imagined, fearsome even in its slumber. Despite the still-broken firing mechanism, the frumentarius could feel the excitement surging all throughout the camp, always heightened by sunset as the gun cut a splendid figure against the western sky. 

Destruction beyond imagination. He thought of thunder and cracked earth, and groups of men torn asunder in a matter of seconds. Red fog on the field, and pillars of smoke overhead, no air, no vision, a glimpse of death while you still lived. He looked to the side as if avoiding the stench of simmering flesh. No, he couldn´t admire the thing in the same way the others did, or said they did. Instead, his eyes quickly sought refuge elsewhere. 

Perhaps it happened by chance, but his sights had set upon the other's arms first, following the winding trail of a vein up to their shoulders and collarbone. Lupercus was also a kind of weapon, he mused, but infinitely more beautiful than any stack of rusted metal. Strong, steadfast and handsome, with hands Gabban was sure could rip his spine clean from his body, like tender meat from the bone. 

“Forgive me, my Legate.” Gabban straightened just then, but his gaze never wavered, lest he inadvertently confess to the nature of his thoughts through hints of embarrassment. “I merely lost focus.” 

His expression brightened. “How strange. You’re not wearing your armor.” He arched a brow, feigning surprise over something he had already noticed with pleasure. “Seeing a soldier without his vestments is like meeting him anew– Now I understand why you make so many of the men here nervous.” 

[amberedcorpse]

@malefikant brought wine!

"To live for eternety. All the things you can do! The opportunity! To learn. To understand. To get answers…" Grating behavior. His for him and vice versa. Who appreciated being talked to so aggravatingly and who enjoyed being bothered when having a bad day? The truth was, Alexander did not mean to be the fuel for negative emotions (although well knowing that his presence alone had them growing, regrettably). Intentions were meant-well. Felix' state of existing was a curious conundrum he merely wanted to understand. "Why are dwarves so short but carve their tunnels so tall? Do you think if anything is possible, it is still possible for anything to be impossible?" Grating, surely. That seemingly ever-present hint of a smile that had his mouth subtly crescend, faintly curved. Meant genuinely as it could be meant to mock, to tease. Perhaps. Maybe. "I will help", he hums. "What can one catch that is not thrown?" A pause, then a soft laugh. "A cold! See? A day lived, an answer learned. It is not so bad, is it?" and as if to offer peace and ask forgiveness for his playful deceit (he really was just teasing. or was he?) pulled forth from underneath the thin leathery fabric of his overcoat a corked wine bottle. His smile widened. "To your health."

Learn what knowledge? Answers to which questions? 

A twinge broke through the anger like a knife thrust through both of his temples. He could’ve sworn the blade was real then and not another one of his symptoms, slicing his gray matter into a wet pulp. Both hands quickly clawed the sides of his head to wrench the specter from his skull, but found nothing more than his hair and his flesh still intact. 

And still he listened to their incessant babbling, forced to by the very clarity of his blessing, too conscious even if he were on the verge of bleeding out. No hope for escape, not even the relief of a coma. But if looks could kill this mortal wouldn’t be saved. 

His dearest shadow, the god nestled inside and out of him, let out a boisterous laugh. A low roll, the rush of sound before an earthquake, answered by the yowling of a dozen cats in the distance. They loved a good joke at his expense. He was their fool on strings, set on the stage to perform a mockery of life and be justly ridiculed in turn. Yet as the witch pulled out the dark bottle of wine both of them reared at attention. All of his muscles tensed. 

“Give me that!sweet and pretty creature, sweet kisses for you.” Felix pushed forward and snatched the wine from their trickster’s grasp, savagely wrestling the cork with his teeth. Then after a moment of fruitless struggle, he sneered and let out a rough, feline cry. 

“Ugh! Do you have a corkscrew hidden in there as well?Do you enjoy torturing him?” 

[path-of-blue-eyes]

"...The only reason I 'celebrate' Halloween is for PR reasons. I'm not dressing up, that's for children like my brother."

[patchedzero]

what are you insinuating ?

morbid curiosity // @shishitoren-vc

a stop to their walk, Suo now more turned towards Togame. it was just one of the mandatory patrols, nothing to overthink, but it was quite curious to assign them together. surely there were more suitable people.

yet to be fair this whole situation was quite amusing. how easily he was thrown away despite clearly having a longer history with the leader. but it would be rude to admit it. which is why he started with " you can stop now " to see the reaction & respond accordingly.

small wave of his hand with chuckle, before it returned behind his back.

❝ no, nothing like that, just looking out for you. ❞ well, close enough to it. ❝ it seems like something is still bothering you, so if you want we can take a break from patrolling for a bit. ❞

[estarion]

i had shadowheart negotiating w / arron whilst i pickpocketed him, got all i needed and ran for miles before remembering we left her there :s

[il-mostrc]

The crocodile-skinned notebook that bore his schedule for the day held the decorative and regal scripture handwriting of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Vincent's (@phantomyre-vincent-valentine) name was especially satisfying to write. He dubbed his name romantic, as would anyone with the last name 'Valentine'.

It was his lack of a 'valentine' that sent a referral to Hannibal's door. While Hojo would never step forth in the Good Doctor's Study, he found Lucrecia's presence more and more (without Hojo's knowledge). This young man was proving to be something of a hot subject with her. The vestibule door opened, and Dr. Lecter, complete with wearing one of his finely tailored darker suits, welcomed the young man further into his house.

"Have a seat if you are so inclined," he speaks, his voice almost monotone, one he often gives when greeting newly appointed patients. Nervousness was not unusual; very few people were at ease with opening their lives to a complete stranger at first. Two chairs bask in the glow of a flickering fireplace.

The chairs were once closer together across from one another until a fatal flaw was performed. One of his patients touched his knee, and that was the end of it.

Hannibal is sure Vincent won't mind the distance. Unlatching the button from his jacket, he reclines in the plush leather seat, one leg over the other while balancing the notebook and fountain pen. "Shall we begin?"

[courcgecus]

Children are at care but she feels guilty for taking the day and night for herself.

What is planned is planned, now she needs to decide from all the things what she wants to do... how can she. Has she really had time for herself? Only work... more work and house work.

[meadowlarksabove]

@laukka gives Gabban a tour of the house:

"It is getting cold during the nights. We are higher up here, so it will be even colder. Make sure to cover up properly. I will get to fixing the window in the morning." Paukka stood in the door frame to the guest room with a stretched out arm, offering a spare blanket he himself would have used himself but had decided on giving up so Gabban would not be the one freezing through the night.

An entire room for himself? What would he want with all this space? Gabban took the blanket in his arms and pressed it flush to his chest– the fabric even smelled clean. 

“But where do you sleep?” He was genuinely confused, there were barely any houses back home that reached more than four rooms. Those that did were more of a kind of communal home, or public space…

He turned to face the window and heard the sound of windchimes filtering through the open wedge. How bizarre, he was lured to the view by that gentle song, catching sight of the sun before it dipped behind a vast and darkened landscape. 

“How pretty…”

[amberedcorpse]

DUKE | OPEN

Deucalion couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good drink. Days of traveling had run his reserves pretty dry, and he’d had to penny pinch just to keep himself fed long enough to reach town. One would think a man like himself, busy as he was, would have more in his coat than a knife and a concealed holster. But money left marks, trailed, just like the motes of black smoke he blew out of his mouth. Better safe than sorry. Besides, there was always more money to make, more people to send across the bridge…

In fact, he’d spied one such person a few times in his periphery, slipping in and out of view, but ever present. Duke didn’t bother to wonder why he was being stalked so soon and merely took it in stride. This far in the game, who cared if a few stragglers tagged along? 

Again, he had a glimpse of the shadow covering his rear, having drawn closer as the streets turned dark and lonely. After a few draws of his cigar, he paused as if deliberating on what to do, until he very abruptly turned around. 

“Hey!” He flicked the ashes off his cigar, and caught the haunting shade before it slipped back into an alley. 

“The least you could do is give me directions! I’m fucking lost over here!”

[path-of-blue-eyes]

◎

Favourite villian you've encountered, and most inspired kidnapping of Mokuba.

Most impressive duel loss.

Eat a bag of rocks or admit Joey is a good duelist.

"What kind of question is that? None of the kidnappings of my brother are impressive!" Seto nearly shakes his fist in anger over it, upset at the fact that he actually has to answer the question and even hear such ridiculous questions.

"Tch...If I could keep my secrets, I would've just said Dartz but fine...Noah wasn't a favorite, but I understand why he was doing what he did. In some ways, he's the version of myself that couldn't look ahead of me." As much as he hates him for putting his brother through hell, he can't lie that he notices their similarities.

Eyebrows then start to furrow, however, as he thinks about his most impressive duel loss. "When I first lost to Yugi. I thought I was unbeatable, and that Exodia as a strategy was impossible to execute, but...He didn't just manage to beat me but break me in a way I needed."

However, Seto Kaiba would then slam down on his desk a bag of rocks. Somehow, the bag of rocks already has the 'KC' logo on it. "I guess I'm breaking my teeth and eating rocks. The last thing I'll ever do is admit a dog like him is capable of climbing to my level when I've crawled through hell itself!"

[that-butler]

"You truly honor me, my lady~"

[parasitxs]

@dragvnsovl / for cell

there's a cock of his brow, curiosity lacing its way around the smile to curve the corners of his lips. when met with strength, tsufuru would relish the fight - ponder over what he can have -- what he can steal. though, this stranger rouses another kind of curiosity. he's strong, but he's odd, too. unreadable in a lot of ways - and such mystery would make him dangerous.

the body-stealer keeps his distance for now, watches on with a pressed gaze and pursed lips - readies himself to speak but thinks carefully on his words before doing so. for one usually so quick to jump, for now - he keeps himself still.

"hm-" he ponders aloud, crosses arms over his chest. an unconscious action that readies his guard. "there's something-" not alien, not earthling - android, perhaps? an amalgamation of bits and pieces ( curses and corruption ) - just like him? to think it snatches a breath, one quickly replaced with a further few words "off about you. something..."

despite uncertainty, his smirk fails to wane, a shiver of anticipation breathing cold onto his skin - hairs on end as he leans forth.

is that...excitement amidst the twist of his voice?

"different. tell me- what are you?"

and does your blood run hot -? do your muscles ache and your skin, sweat? are you - by any chance - an organic vessel, fitting for the one they call 'baby' -?