#dont have to match length at all

[yellowpuppet]

Green  eyes  fluoresce  as  they  catch  her  eyes,  they  are  not  the  same  as  how  she  had  found  them,  humming  of  fresh  batteries  thrive  in  their  chest.  The  consequence  of  such  is  knowing.  The  ability  to  know  and  understand  things  that  has  happened  to  them  -  if  they  can  remember  -  his  small,  felted  hands  taken  in  an  attempt  to  comfort  him.  

He  uses  his  shoulder  to  wipe  at  his  face.  Hair  on  his  head  suddenly  full  and  neatly  smoothed  back.  He  seems  less  confused,  more  stressed  as  though  they  were  capable  of  more  than  a  single  thought  at  a  time,  that  their  head  was  filled  with  thoughts  and  maybe  that  was  the  problem.  

They  could  at  least  find  some  gratitude  and  relief  in  the  fact  that  they  were  not  alone  right  now.  It  didn’t  make  it  any  less  terrifying.  It  didn’t  stop  their  little  body  from  shaking  uncontrollably.  

Words  were  hard  to  force  out  but  when  they  did  it  was  evidently  not  as  difficult  to  form  a  sentence  than  usual.  

⋆            ★        ❝ I-  Just  remembered  something  about  where  we  came  from.  ❞  The  other  him  must  have  stumbled  upon  some  batteries  in  this  house,  else  he  wouldn’t  be  fronting  right  now.  They  would  still  be  clueless  and  confused.  

⋆            ★        ❝ I  can’t-  it’s  not  very  clear  but  I’m  worried  about  my  friends.  I’m  worried  that  I- ❞  They  look  down  at  felted  arms,  as  they  slowly  retrieve  them  and  place  them  on  their  battery  pack.   ❝  It  was  a  voice.  She  said  that  I  can’t  stay  away  from  home,  or  rather  -  THAT  HOUSE  -  for  much  longer.  She’ll  put  me  back  somehow.  Or  she’ll  use  my  friends  as  a  bribe.  Something  like  that  -  or.  Sorry,  this  isn’t  even  your  problem,  is  it?  You  didn’t  ask  for  all  this  you  just  took  us  home,  which  thanks  for  that,  but  I  don’t  know  how  much  longer  I  can  just  stay  here  knowing  my  friends  are  still  suffering  or  how  long  I-  we  can  be  free;  here  with  you  you  to  begin  with  before  it...oh!   ❞  He’s  frustrated.  Why  was  his  memory  still  terrible?   ❝ Goes  back  to  the  way  it  was  before.   ❞

He  would  scowl  at  the  wallpaper  even  with  his  mind  so  clear  it  was  still  impossible  to  say  something  Charlie  would  understand,  it  was  just  too  complicated  to  explain.    Eyes  softening  as  much  as  eyes  such  as  his  could.   ❝ Not  that  we  don’t  want  to  stay  here.  We  do.  You’ve  been  kind  to  me  -  to  us.  I  suppose  you  just  didn’t  expect  us  to  come  with  so  much  trouble. ❞

@cantfixyou​​  ★  c  o  n  t  i  n  u  e  d

[liquidstar]

i was talking earlier today with my brother about what im going to do with my hair and he was like "you know what would look cool? if you did it half and half. like half black half white." and i was like "that DOES sound cool. but i have a character i made that has that hairstyle actually. i dont wanna copy him." and my brother looked at me and was like "you dont want to copy... the guy you made?"

[ofiends]

Who: Yelena & Boudhayan (@fvllensouls) Where: Yelena's Flat When: After the Event

"How long is this going to take Bo?"

She was getting bored now. Yelena could really only take so much silence and Bo seemed to thrive in it. They worked better when it was quiet, they had told her after she had done nothing but yammer on about her latest job. A nasty kill down in Harrow. He was a squealer, Yelena told Bo with a smile.

It was only a stupid computer, Yelena thought bitterly as she watched Bo tinker away with a flathead. I mean it wasn't like it was that hard to get up and running again. When did you last update this, Bo had asked and Yelena couldn't even meet their eyes when she mumbled something that sounded like "Dunno. Maybe 2014."

So here she was. wandering around her own living room, picking up little trinkets of a book shelf and inspecting them carefully. She had turned the radio on, half way through her wander and Bo had given her a look over their shoulder. Yelena made a face at them before exhaling loudly. She stomped back over to the desk they occupied and folded her arms. Peering over their shoulder, all of those little plastic pieces and gadgets set her teeth on edge. Yelena didn't like not knowing what was happening, and that included things she couldn't make sense of at all.

[shanburuzu]

@ncfertari liked for a starter!

He'd have recognized her anywhere. The lost princess that he and his gang had saved when they'd still been kids, not yet able to take on the title of pirate. She'd been kidnapped and taken to the North Blue, ending up on the same island of them. They'd only just formed their gang at the time and had stumbled up her and her kidnappers. Honestly, when he looked back on that time it was amazing they'd been able to get her out considering their age. Helping her to survive for several months until she was finally found by her retainers. He'd watched from the cliff as she'd sailed away, thinking he'd never see her again.

Yet here she was.

Beaten badly and left for dead from the looks of it. A fact that had rage kindling in his chest even as he cooly ordered Bepo to carry the duck that was at her side and Penguin to carry her. Remaining behind for a few moments to inspect the area for any bits of information and to ensure that they weren't followed. Following Bepo back to the Polar Tang once he'd confirmed there was no tail and gathered what little information he could from the area.

Directing them to carry her to one medical bay and then ordering everyone except those who knew her from the room after having Ikkaku change her into a medical robe. Only then did he work on treating the two of them, his power making the process far easier. It was close though, they almost lost her once, a fact he'd been unwilling to allow. As for the duck....he did what he could but his medical knowledge of animals wasn't as developed as he would like. He'd learned what he'd needed for Bepo and minks, but actual animals were slightly different.

Only when she was stable did he have the two moved to a private room. Watching her for a long moment before turning and leaving the room. Gaze turning to the three who had known her before. "Keep an eye on them. Come get me if something happens or when they wake up." Moving past them he paused before adding as he looked over his shoulder. "And be careful. We might have known her as kids, but we don't know what she's like now."

Only then did he go to his quarters, collapsing into his bed and falling almost instantly asleep. The strain of using his fruit dragging him into slumber.

[psychcwound]

@prodigum for sansa & fenris (is that's cool!)

when she thought nobody was WATCHING, which was such a rarity in her life, sansa allowed herself to dabble in curiosities. her entire childhood was encased by the sound of clashing metal. swords, daggers, maces, you name it -- she never had an ounce of interest. she was on her own island in winterfell as a youth. there was a time where she was ELATED to have a sister... until that sister would rather shout insults at her and go run off and be a vagabond with their brothers. for a split second, sansa thought that she might not be alone.

she wasn't sure what led her out to the training field at this hour. maybe she was thinking of her family. perhaps, she was thinking of herself. if she too picked up one of these swords as a youth, eschewed the responsibility of ladyhood -- would things have been DIFFERENT? she picked up one of the training swords, an awkward, heaving thing that felt wrong in her hand. she thought of robb. how did he make holding this seem so noble? sansa gave it one swing (horrible technique -- she could practically hear her father sigh) before there was a movement in her periphery. eyes widened by a fraction and she let the sword fall to the ground quite clumsily, throat clearing as hands moved to clasp behind her back.

"a-apologies. i did not think anyone would here." her cheeks burned with embarrassment and the queen moved to pick the sword up and put it in its rightful place. "i have not spent much time in the grounds, i'm afraid -- only observed them. i hope i did not disturb you too greatly."

[byrdys]

@aurorabaystarter​

Location: The Marketplace Open!

There was something homely about the whole thing, she supposed. A sort of small town vibe that was hard to recreate in the big cities, not that she had ever wanted too. Skyscrapers and penthouses had suited her just fine for a long time. Siobhan eyed a stand of seashell necklaces and a gruesome little box of hollowed out crab shells, and wished she was anywhere else.

Maine had been different. Maine was where her family had been so the town had never seemed off to her. Now it did. Her rose coloured glasses hadn’t so much as been removed, as they had been taken right of the end of her nose and smashed into pieces. She hated it all, right down to the distant sound of the ocean.

She sighed, tossing her head and patting the ends of the slick red bob back into place. She idled in front of another stall, selling dulce and more naff seashell crafts. Siobhan picked up a crude ring with a conch shell glued to the front and rolled her eyes. 

“How Ugly...” it was half a sneer, she was doing little to hide her contempt of the whole damn place at this point. Beside her, people began to stop so she turned to the nearest and gave them her most polite but pointed of smiles “-tell me something, does this scream ‘this was my first seaside vacation; to you as well?”

[legaciestold]

@honorhearted continued from x

sounds reverberate throughout the tunnels under the palace, dirt and stones shifting and falling as a battle of magick and swords and dragon fyre encases everything above. her body feels numb, not even the bloody wound to her skin felt as she's half drug along, deeper and deeper until they turn and then begin moving upward again. 'would you truly let your father's sacrifice be made in vain?' sir ben's words ricochet within her mind, the image of her father's gaze as he'd pushed her into ben's arms so clear. the high queen was dead, a prince was dead. the high king was dying or dead, and she'd been forced to flee as men and women died in her name. it was wrong. oh it was so horrifically atrocious! the princess doesn't remember ben raising her hand to the painting to allow them passage. she doesn't remember her screams or the way she'd thrashed in his hold. 'be strong, lyli -- live for him...for your kingdom!' when she'd recall these moments later she thinks that was the moment she'd stopped fighting. when something else had taken hold of her, wrapping around the horror and encasing it in a broken heart, using it as fuel and deciding she had to survive. her people were dying. her father was dying but she remained and her other brother did too. the horrors of this night would be too horrific if such a toll held no purpose. if she died and her people were left to the venomous wrath of an evil witch to rule them in terror.

and so she had stopped fighting ben and instead began leading them through the labyrinth of tunnels until sounds and smells met their senses, day blackened out by rising smoke as they meet quickly waning daylight a distance from the palace, and her dragon standing high and tall at the ready. there's one man too, a man she'd always fondly seen tending to the royal family's dragon companions. he's wounded, she can see, the bodies of three others laying splayed across the ground where they'd worked to aid him in preparing the riding harness on apophis. if their princess was to take to the skies she would not do it without some precaution. without the best chance for her survival and escape. these people had given their very lives to ensure it. other dragons, wild, spiral through the skies as they clash with two who have been enthralled, covering the activity taking place below. apophis moves closer then, laying flatter as the man meets her and sir ben and urges them forward toward the dragon. everything happens in quick succession then. her forcing benjamin with a commanding authority she'd lacked in her previous shock to get onto the dragon first because she hadn't trusted that he wouldn't attempt to cause her to escape and stay behind and her following quickly after, seated in front of him. she seeks to grant the man who had ushered them forward some form of comforting words yet apo rushes onward as a dragon crashes feet from them and takes the man with him in a cloud of dust.

she wants to scream. this time she doesn't.

the battle had raged around them, apo maneuvering in the way sir poe had taught them never having intended for her or the dragon to have to use such teachings in practice. dragons flank them, dragons fall, the capitol is in ruin. there's a point when anger begins to overwhelm everything else, as she watches myra's men slaughter people in the streets below. she knows they can not stop their escape yet she does have her dragon lower toward the ground, a single command for fyre uttered, engulfing myra's men and their dying victims with it before they surge back into the skies and away from the city, out over the water and into the night. fyre did not care what it touched, it was brutal, but it could be wrath and mercy in one. she thinks that's the moment she truly became something new. when youthful innocence had been tore from her and fyre had remade her. the serpentine princess lyliana had never taken a life before this day. in fact she had strived to protect it even when a plot to take her own had once befell her. in the chaos of the usurping she had killed in defense. but in that moment she had killed as justice. she had killed as the queen they'd need her to become.

she'd nearly fallen off apo soon after, consciousness lost in the dampness of flight and apo's voice spoken into ben's mind to hold her before she slipped. much of the following hours had been cold and chaotic, any pursuers lost to the depths of the sea and darkness of the night. they nearly crash through the raised wards of the kingdom of eldenvale. sir poe had made it. he'd warned them. they'd prepared. soldiers meet them with prince jayson pushing past to meet her as she's passed down off the dragon. unspoken words passed between the last remaining children of a dead king and queen. chaos ensues when her uncle commands sir benjamin detained, untrusting of anyone so near to his niece and nephew when reports came of trusted friends having been turned against the royal family. the princess that would be queen can barely stand, though she rages immediately. authority in her voice that causes pause to even the warrior king-uncle before her. they let sir ben remain with her, escorted to rooms and only the carefully spoken words of her queen-aunt causing lyliana to allow healers into the rooms. they use their magicks to close their wounds and restore their skin though the fatigue and blood loss is not so simply remedied. that would take time.

the princess, like ben, argues the moment sir ben leaving the chambers is suggested by members of court though how she has the energy to have such powerful conviction in her upset is a wonder. they concede to her because they have to. the realms are in chaos but the high king and queen are dead. this girl may be exhausted and in turmoil yet she had become their queen the moment her dragon had made landfall. they call her 'her grace' in respect and in mourning, as a symbol of what was to come in the wake of what was transpiring around them yet the title is lost to her because she's beginning to fall apart again the moment the door closes. the moment the world and reality begin to enclose around her again. the moment she can't be strong as ben had commanded of her anymore. she doesn't remember anything after that. she doesn't remember the exhaustion consuming her or how she'd been laid in the bed. she doesn't remember refusing to let go of her hold on him either.

time passes, hours, as others in the castle move about directed by her uncle and aunt. prepare for war. prepare to protect the castle should myra send others upon them. they do not bother the chambers lyliana and ben occupy, not yet though the small trails of colors begin to play in the skies. it's early, extremely early when she awakens with a strangled scream upon her lips, her surging upward in the bed in horror as if she's back in the moment. her breath is labored, eyes searching wildly until they settle on sir ben. thankfully no one has heard her, no one but him and she knows as her light hues meet his that it wasn't a dream though she wishes it all had been some horrid nightmare. it had all happened. it was all real and the weight of that is gut-wrenching. "they're all dead, ben. she killed them. she killed them all and i want her dead!"

[fatalled]

— WITHER & TIME WITCH // @swtnsourkisses WHERE: the grand opening of anderson laboratories. WHEN: towards the later evening. WHO: hadrian & ... an old acquaintance.

The evening grows hungry. & Hadrian grows tired of these masks. For all his false smiles and unnecessary pleasant tries, irritation blooms right there in the thick of his chest. It's one thing after another, one simple conversation after another. Hello's and how are you's and don't you recognize me's all start to blend together. He moves through the passing crowd, through the jumble of silks and taffeta and brocade towards the tables set up to supply food. He has made ... interesting connections this evening. ( there was something raw sitting in the mouths of all the agents he managed to identify. they didn't — like something. it bothered him that he didn't know what. ) He is going to have to look closer into it — start poking the beast and see what happens next.

He reaches up and pulls at the black ribbons that keeps his mask in place, taking it off. A few others have done the same — either not caring who saw their face or they truly had nothing to hide. What boring lives they must lead. He is taking a risk — there are people here who know him as one thing but not the other. & there are those who know more than that. A risk, however, makes it fun — and tells him who he needs to get rid of. The idea that Wither and Hadrian were one and the same would not survive the night — beyond those who already knew. Loose lips and all that, yes?

Besides, he's been dead for three years.

He steps through a small group, his thoughts not focusing. Their faces all blur with the masks they wear and their conversation cuts short. He nods politely. Masks and fake pleasantries would not remove his manners, he was raised better than that. ( well. he raised himself better than that. ) "Pardon, I didn't mean to interrupt. The invitation advertised free food and I'm curious to know what Anderson Laboratories lays out in a spread, hm?" One of the gentlemen in the group laughs and makes a remark about his alcohol. Hadrian gives a thin-lipped smile. About five-ten, unwieldy in the suit, more smoke blown up his ass than a chimney. The cadence tells him older, perhaps older than him. The snake motif of the mask giving away from than that he realized. Blue eyes with over-combed hair and a need to laugh. Hadrian knew that type. "Thank you."

He hadn't planned on signing someone's name on a dotted line but — well, the evening has grown hungry, hasn't it?

[phoenixduelist]

@ashortdropandasuddenstop

Dance with the Devil at Farsang

There was something oddly but extremely satisfying upon witnessing the raw shock mixed with outrage when diplomats, merchants from other countries, empires visited to reestablish trade connections upon hearing the raging war has quietened. No one expected to be face to face with the terror of a woman who robbed them tons of riches (and later they learned she funded her revolution with them) not bound in chains but sitting on the throne of Hungary with the lethal grace of a jungle cat. Predatory eyes accompanied by a sharp smirk dancing in the corner of her lips when recognition set in; widening into a grin upon the grim realization that now she was even more untouchable. Not like anyone could ever catch her on the sea, nor in her own land.

The Brits might just be her favorite to torment. Mostly because they were so pleased with their colonies and failed to pay attention to most of the political changes in Europe, unless it involved either the Spanish or the French. Oh their surprise, fury, panic was a joy to witness and be the cause of just by her mere presence. The now independent Kingdom of Hungary happened to be one of the largest grain exports with almost endless plains, the transport route relatively short and a lot safer than importing from one of their precious colonies only to have it stolen on the way to the mainland. What a shame would it be, even though she was no longer...in the business of making empires miserable. Well, not as an outlaw anyways.

Selling it a higher price was a combination of her amusement, knowledge how badly they needed it and her country was still being rebuilt from the three year revolutionary war. With the deal arranged, a thin eyebrow arched in graceful mockery at the openly murderous glares thrown in her direction.

What kind of queen would Rozália be if she didn't insist them to stay till Sunday when she was about to hold her first official Farsang of her reign? Colorful costumes, decorated masks mouthwatering food, lively dances, traditions and music throughout day and night; both her and her nation needed this celebration, for nobles and foreign visitors held in the Buda Castle with a stunning view to the Danube.

The day arrived soon and the Queen was more than prepared...only that she wasn't present at the feast, instead Marcell, her ex first mate now captain of the castle guards excused that her costume is taking too long to apply.

Rozália could barely contain her electric excitement. Emerald eyes glowed even brighter after the careful lining with black, a few adjustments, the most notable being her hair chopped off by the same trustworthy damascus steel sabers. Ferenc was already grinning like a lunatic upon noticing, even the always worried Marcell couldn't suppress a small amused smile in the depths of his beard.

The curtains were semi see through, the music quietened as the silhouette of the Queen seemingly glided close. Still obscured by the veil like curtain, only the size of her dress and hairdo could be seen, until an another figure steadily approached from behind and with one motion severed the head, causing many horrified gasps, shrieks at the unexpected assassination-

The curtains parted, the head of the mannequin rolled down the steps ansand music upon Sándor's signal picking up a heated rhythm as the Hungarian Devil sauntered into view. Full pirate captain getup from coat to hat with the fiery feather, signature sabers twirled in her grip with utmost ease, each movement dripping, oozing with pride.

Cheers, gasps of surprise and outrage followed her grand entrance, those who were part of her once crew could barely hold their laughter at the display, some of the clueless nobility was delighted at her bold choice, while the remaining...they knew.

There was more sway in her steps than back in the days but not less grace, stealing the dance partner of some Duke with ease; a quick twirl and she dipped the woman while kicking the Duke into his chair, effectively seating him.

"B-but Your Highness-" the noblewoman in her hold stammered at the bold dip

“Call me Captain.” came the almost sultry purr of her gritty alto before releasing the flushed woman back to a chair, although more gently than she did with her previous dance partner

"The Queen is such a great actor! Don't you think Admiral?" The young and beautiful lady in a bejeweled mask resembling to a peacock currently accompanying the Admiral fluttered her long lashes at her companion, not quite understanding why the British delegation's mood became even more gloomy. Which she didn't know was even possible.

Meanwhile the storm of the woman continued her rampage, reveling in the attention, the scandal; currently dancing on top of the main table and miraculously evading all plates, occasionally stealing a bite with her sword.

“Oh but is there any hero in shining wig to save the noble class from such battle hardened criminal?” Rozália declared dramatically; it has been too long since she had a real duel. Too long her thirst left unquenched by swordsmen not even near her level nor experience.

Technically, it was an open challenge yet her blazing eyes never left the Admiral's, her lips slowly revealing the monstrous fangs; just like in the old days she longed for a dance. The glow of emerald seemed to burn brighter with each spin of the curved blades briefly crossing in front of her face as she waited for the rise to her scandalous taunt.

[chaoticallycosmic]

Closed starter for @writermuses

The nature of Hasani's work often kept him away for longer than he wanted to be away. He loved his job, and discovering new things at a site always thrilled him. The knowledge one would learn was exciting. However, he missed Beatriz, she had been such a delight that he couldn't get her smile out of his head. Not to mention her cooking had been out of this world and now he wanted nothing more than to be invited over to simply watch her cook and be a taste tester for whatever she was making. His fellow colleagues all teased him when they saw how anxious he was to return. He didn't confirm or deny whatever thoughts they had in their mind and simply did what he needed.

Hasani hadn't hesitated in inviting Beatriz to his place this time around though, promising her it'd be fine and that he'd be the one cooking for her this time. He had just finished cleaning and tidying the place up when his doorbell rang and he all but ran to open the door. The excitement of seeing Beatriz again was perfectly displayed on his face, his eyes lit up and his mouth lifted into a full smile, showing off his white teeth and dimples.

"Good evening, Beatriz. I hope you didn't have trouble finding the place, please come in," he spoke with a grin as he opened the door wide and stepped aside to let her in. "It's really good to see you again. I'm going to want to hear about your time since I've been away," he was genuinely interested in hearing about her life and how things were going with her.

/home reference

[fatedefyd]

   ❝ so, i’m in this... weird headspace, right now. ❞  A sigh and a lightly stretch later, the young Dragon continues on, but with a lack of her usual pep.  

   ❝ like, look :  what would be considered my FIRST traumatic experience was back when i thought i had lost MK to Red Boy’s mom ; and i was sooo ready to throw hands with her there and then, too ! before i had my sword ‘n stuff, sure, but i still had a feint grasp on my ancestral power at the time ! ❞

        Mei then makes a gesture similar to that of proposing gentlemanly fisticuffs, chest puffed proudly for a moment before deflating, a hand coming to rest against her dejected face as she leans on her knee.

   ❝ then ! when i was house-sitting for my parents, i had a HUGE identity crisis  --  and my ancestors spiritually breathing down my neck didn’t help, either ! zero out of ten, do not recommend. ALSO-- having secretly been a huge part of one of the most powerful abilities is BOZO amounts of bonkers !! ❞

         Why yes, she’s still salty about how they came to that conclusion.  While Mei isn’t ready to fully forgive the very Unwise Sage for keeping such vital information from the team  --  from her, especially  --  she’s willing to be civil, for MK’s sake. 

   ❝ oh yeah, did i mention that i had my free will taken from me ? TWICE ?? definitely something i wouldn’t wish even upon my worst enemies...and just when we thought we were finally catching some kinda break ? ❞

         Hands motion around her person, almost as if she were wiping an invisible window, a look of pure disbelief on her face. 

   ❝ of COURSE, one of Monkey King’s old frienemies shows up. do you think the guy’s old Shifu, the one that taught him a lot of his stupid-powerful tricks and was probably one of the few people who knew how we could defeat that overgrown housecat, gave us any actual help ? NO !! i mean-- sure, he had some points, but we were working on a serious time crunch.. AGAIN !  --  and that’s not taking into consideration that MK is going through the identity crisis of the century ! and i just... ❞

         There’s a mild sputtering, general annoyance and anger causing her emerald streaks of hair to crackle, though it doesn’t last long.  Young warrior finally sits with her head between her legs, sword-wielding hands buried in her ebony hair, combing through her bangs in an irritated manner ; they eventually slide down to her face, pulling at her tired features. 

   ❝ i NEED a break. i need help to process aaall of this in, like, a healthy way. i had time to work things out with my parents, and i even started looking into seeing a therapist ! but it’s just one thing after another lately, and now i feel like i don’t have the right to complain about anything. Pigsy almost ate Tang, Sandy almost beat Pigsy to a pulp, and i was, once again, nearly KILLED just so that someone else could use my power for their own selfish reasons !!

   ❝  MK is learning about his past and his true identity right now, too, and i’m happy that everyone ended up mostly okay ! ... well, most of us are okay, but now.. Red Son and his family are gone, and i don’t know what i’m gonna do when we have to go and fish them out of the scroll ! this- is so-- BOGUS !! ❞

[wiedzmacienia]

@makesplans

katarzyna has never forgiven betrayal lightly least of all from one she considered a friend. and that had been what he had done. betrayed their order. leaving after his wife's death, the witch could forgive. even his actions which had brought pain unto his life she could understand. the knights were not perfect and accepted much darker actions by it's eldritch members and his family had known hard times like so many others of the age. he would always be one of her brethren even if he no longer filled the ranks of their order. but to have attempted to thieve from their vaults where such dangers were kept.. that had gone steps too far.

he knew, she knew he knew what such things could bring unto the world. how could he have left himself fall so far?

she had not gone to see him in the aftermath as he had been hauled away by their fellow knights though she had inquired after his daughter who had seemed to vanish. she had wanted to go in search of her for katarzyna had known the girl and come to care about her. she was so young after all. but that had not been her directive in her training. she was to remain and learn under zalan. she was not to worry about someone who had committed such crimes against the order or their family.

god, there was a reason a order which aided the shadow world also kept certain relics locked away!

some darkness was too corrupted for the world, some powers were ancient from a time very different than what the world had become, a time lost to the annals of history. some objects could harm both eldritch and mundane and were too dangerous to have unleashed on the world. edgin knew that!

how foolish was he!?

but katarzyna also understood, as she sat in the middle of the dusty home where she'd seen his wife laying dying with no power of her or her brother's able to save her from the red blade why edgin had done what he had. she understood what had driven him. what would she have done if it was her brother dead and such a relic as had been taken could bring him back? was the idea of such a relic not tempting to her, a chance to bring back the parents who gave their lives for her? yet katarzyna understood that such things would not come without a price. to use dark magics always came with a caveat. her and kasper's restored lives had come at the price of their parents and a whole village of people. and to use such a relic that edgin had sought would have a price too. a price that wasn't worth paying.

still, she had had time to stew over her anger, time further to allow herself to begin to understand and it is why when she heard of his escape she had known where he would go, using her power over shadows to bring her there before the rest of the order held the chance to. it had weakened her to use such magic, her body a fraction too pale, her reflexes slower, a slight shake to her that most who didn't know her couldn't perceive. she would recover in a days time or two but she had to come to him now. she needed to and she's not entirely sure why. she hadn't quite forgiven him, had she? maybe she had, maybe she hadn't. but the order was going to go after the red witch either way and she suspected (though the order seemed to resist the idea without proof) that forge had some sort of tie to her which meant kira (who she'd come to know was with him) was going to be in the crossfire and the order was too hyper focused on the larger threat to worry about the girl in the chaos.

maybe this was skirting the line of betrayal to. but not if they succeeded it wouldn't be.

she should restrain him and bring him back with her to the order. but she isn't going to. zalan would be furious when he found out and she thinks kasper will be too though she wonders if anika hadn't already known what she was going to do after their talk the day before. it had been her words which had given katarzyna the idea after all. for if her and edgin and perhaps others, for they might need others if such was to be accomplished, could save kira but also defeat the red witch then a new path opened. the order would not be able to look upon such with contempt. oh she wasn't fooling herself to think he would turn back into the person she'd once known him to be. but she knew he would fight for kira and she suspected both goals would now be intertwined if she was right about forge's alliance.

the door pushes open and her green-blue eyes meet his for the first time in so long. a breath is released and her lips part as if her words do not know how to work suddenly. she's so angry at him but she misses him too, she realizes. he had been one of the few people she had formed a bond with in those early days she'd come to the order, too much uncontrolled power and a new world so much bigger than what she had known thrown at her. he hadn't been cruel toward her like baris so often was though she still held no idea why the strigoi was so angered by her. katarzyna was still learning, everyday for she was still young too and barely had touched serious battle yet. zalan had said she wasn't ready. but she sure as hell better be now that she's taken the path she has. "kira isn't here, edgin." she states but she doesn't get up from the chair.

"i'm not here to fight you unless you force me to. the order will come for you. you know that. but right now there's something more important." she does get up then though the motion causes her to grip the top of the chair in a way she usually doesn't need to, she tries to cover it but he knows her. she's used too much magic to beat the order here and if edgin wanted to act against her in some bid to escape the situation she had no doubt he'd be able to. perhaps she hadn't been smart about this. had zalan's lessons gone in one ear and out the other? or maybe some part of her still sought to trust him even if he'd not given her reason to. "kira's with forge and i think he's working with a red witch."

[bloodyodyssey]

(wip) trying to learn how to draw my cv revenant Amore and a lil redesign of Io to match him

[ofiends]

Who: Yelena & Jack (@jack-seo) Where: Somewhere in London When: After the Event

She had drawn the short straw for a full shift tonight. 12 hours of wandering the streets, making sure everything was tip top for the boss. It was pretty boring, when you didn't have an actual hit out on anyone. When it was just you and the pavement and the neon lights of downtown Soho. It was lonely too, mundane and lonely and boring. All the things she hated.

At least her step count would be through the roof tonight. It was the little things, Yelena supposed.

Yelena had called into some nameless fast food joint around 9pm and was half way through devouring a chicken burger, almost the same size as her head, when she spied him.

It takes a minute but she thinks she recognises that face, that swoop of dark hair. Those eyes. Yelena wipes mayonnaise from her mouth with the back of her sleeve and grins, burger forgotten as she dumps the last of it in the bin.

She approaches, because she has never been one to leave a thing alone. Outstanding conversations, outstanding interactions. They bug her, she likes to finish things. Be it tv shows, murders, or making friends. And she knows this man, the start of a hairy conversation at the Hippodrome had left her squirming since. Of course, police were not to be trusted, but this one was interesting. Cold as a glacier, detached in a way that was familiar, almost.

Yelena slipped her hands into the pockets of her slim fit pants, fingering the hook blade there. "-Hiya handsome." she grinned at him, eyebrows flaring with a pop. "-that was a crazy party, huh" she blew out a breath of mocking disbelief but the grin that followed was a feral as a cats. All sharp edges and loud rage.

[sooperdark]

this episode is brought to you by : betterhelp! \ @othunderous

It's easy for Mickey to forget just how far the outreach of their podcast is - they've got a pretty decent following, and it shows not only in the streaming numbers but in the social media engagement they get as well, yet they still remain oblivious to it due to the monotony of the cursed day job. The moments where they do feel the grandness of their project makes them feel a bit like a god, though : and even more so when the literal god of thunder shows interest in making an appearance. Man, this is fucking huge. And man - he's fucking huge. They stand five foot four - a generous measurement due to the extra boost given by their doc martens, for without it they stand at only five foot two ( and a quarter! ) "Ahaaa, you've been keeping an eye out for Selener haven't you?" is the first thing they can think to say when welcoming him into their 'studio space'. The studio space simply being : the far end of their living room, by the window with the nicest view of outside, two microphones set at a coffee table positioned between two beanbag chairs. It's a very cozy vibe, made even cozier by the extra bit of relaxation that comes from knowing there'd be no cameras on them. They considered making it a video podcast at a point : but, they decided against it to maintain the comfortability they'd come to know. It was easier to speak your mind if you knew no one was able to analyze all your moves - though, on special occasions, video specials would be uploaded to the Patreon. They hadn't even considered suggesting that to Thor, for not only did it not feel quite right, but they also didn't want to seem like they only wanted to make a spectacle of him being a guest on their podcast. They're trying to make a safe space for him, and a safe space it will be. "Sorry, that's a shit joke. I do kinda bad when I have to talk to people with way more clout than me. Uh, do you want a beer or something? We can like, spitball a bit before I hit record, I usually just ramble regardless but it helps to have a direction. I found that out the hard way, lotta the first episodes of this thing have like, a million cuts where I had to edit out the dead silences where I totally just watched the train of thought fade away into oblivion...so yeah, beer or something?"

[kxllerblond]

@bisnero​ cont. x

    If he hadn’t already been busy grimacing over his wound, he’d have grimaced at the comments alone.  ❝ You are simply a vile little thing. ❞ spoken as if he’d found something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. TRULY, he didn’t see the appeal of doing whatever it was the other was doing in the midst of trying to kill him. Clark wasn’t fond of the dramatics and this certainly fell into that category.

     Fatigue gripped at every bit of his being, emotionally and physically and he exhaled tiredly as the man seemed to insist on continuing. Truly, Clark was going to have to kill him and all this work would be for nothing. It would all have been wasted time trying to make some sort of business connection out of this stupid criminal empire. 

     Granted, he thought bitterly, if this was the sort of volatile hot-head he’d have to push back against every step of the way-—maybe his time had been wasted the moment he decided to attempt to network. 

     If Clark had been a man of God and not, quite literally, a product of Hell-—he’d have thanked the bastard because it was in that moment that the damned devil  sank to his knees, clutching at the chair as tightly as he seemed to try and clutch onto consciousness. It wasn’t much longer before both grips failed and he ended up passed out there on the floor.

     Another curse left the cambion’s lips. Tired, relieved, still pissed. Now he had to clean up this fucking mess that he was still INSISTANT that he did not cause. He stumbled over to his previously discarded suit jacket to procure his cellphone. A moment or two of scrolling through contacts and he settled on a number, cleared his throat.

     Clark was sure the bastard had his own private medical contacts but, clearly, he was in no shape to call any of them and so the halfling was left to reach out to one of his own-—a surgeon, thankfully, within the area only half an hour out. He dialed the number and when the other end picked up, he greeted the surgeon by name, offered the address of his temporary apartment there in the damned city, the injuries, and the fact there would be two of them.

     Medical help now en route, Clark was left to muster up enough mental focus to trudge over to the limp body and move them both to where he was staying for the time being. Believe it or not, even supernaturally transporting yourself and someone else with a round lodged in your shoulder was no easy feat and he was left to unceremoniously drop the bastard on his floor while he reached to grip the wall for support as he caught his breath. 

     With the room spinning and everything feeling much too far away, the cambion was left to operate on sheer willpower alone as he went to haphazardly gather what medical supplies he had if only to stop the stab wound’s bleeding enough to prevent the asshole from dying before his medical contact arrived. As much as he personally wouldn’t mind a dead body on his hand, he WOULD mind having the entirety of the gang the man ran after his head because he stabbed their boss and then let him bleed out and die. 

     ❝ There’s a bullet in my shoulder by the way, prick. That literally counts as you returning d’favor. ❞ he grumbled under his breath, far more bitter than mocking.