#masqueradingfauna

[thosewhohunger]

Tongue flicked out to taste spit and blood, uncaring of whose it was. Enamored with the copper, he merely grinned as he let the tube go. It wasn't worth fighting over, not when Tobias was going to be so rude about it. And maybe he'd manage to get a bit of coherency out of him, now that he had what he wanted.

Damian made no move to assist, rolling over on his side to watch the desperate scramble for sanity. Some were missed, either unseen or 'hidden' from his vision. Damian would pick them up later. Let Tobias calm down with this semblance of control, of picking them up and swallowing them dry. In this state, any sudden movement may lead to regrets later. After so long together, Damian knew just how far he could push just where the boundaries were even if some things weren't always discussed outright. The love-hate relationship with the drugs and the hallucinations as well wasn't one that Damian could understand, but he accepted this part. "Fine, fine, you win. Now will you tell me who's got you so riled up? I assume you've got another picked out and we're not going to wait another half a year to find someone?" he was more curious in what had brought this change of heart than he was in riling up Tobias anyway. Usually there were certain signs and waypoints. Those had been there, but without any hallmark. A lackluster killing, something they'd usually foist off in between murdering their darlings rather than the careful prepwork that'd become their trademark. A deterioration in brand was in store, one way or the other. Not something that left Damian with a pleasant feeling.

Usually, there was a lock and key scenario tucked inside the depths of what made Tobias a monster. The mask prodded the intents with an iron hand as others strove for power, while he frantically fought for control of his own mind.

" Pendejo! " Between the fangs, with growling jaws, wanting to beat his skull on the floor for this...A terrible predicament.

That was part of the aggravation that kept them together in an unsettling knotted knot. Damian was always able to go under his skin and live within the concept. Something that maintained them on the side of predators rather than prey for one another.

[◉¯]

The shift causes a flash of transition, with roles being reversed. Manic would spit in Damian's face, causing blood droplets to spray over his face with saliva. " You taste like shit. I simply want you to know that, Damian." Flicking his gaze ahead up to the other with a furious pant, brows knotted in rising annoyance, the vision of a mutant beast hanging over his head as he kept him close by wrapping his legs to his sides so he could not escape the struggle for his savior in a gelled capsule.

Ignoring them was ineffective.

They enjoyed consuming as much as flesh eaters and preferred the latter to delight in gore.

Eventually, he was able to remove the cover from his tablets. They would pour all over the place as a result of the fight before Tobias let Damian go and attempted to crawl for one of them strewn on the floor.

[thosewhohunger]

"It's not about the taste," she murmured quietly, as if what he'd said was utter nonsense. Not quite willing to speak out or disagree, too unsure of herself and others who seemed incomprehensible. The ingredients in the stew didn't matter, it was the brutality of it all. The way flesh reddened and swelled, blisters popping and skin hardening as nerves sang. Screamed before dying, serving as but a toy towards the ecstasy of murder.

Brightening up with the clear goal and something she actually could answer. Shaky fingers fumbled with her pack, extracting a map pressed carefully between the pages of an empty book she'd been using as a journal. Keeping track of things was difficult enough as it was, and writing it down helped.

"Here, at the edge of the forest. She marked it for me," There was a heart lovingly marked onto the map where they'd find Ethel's teahouse. The old woman had been a flirt, leaving Alya's cheeks burning. "Can we go there first?" We. Already she was including him, familiar in his unfamiliarity. Everyone else seemed content to let her pick and choose where they went next. It was a relief to find someone else to make the final choice.

A question lingered in his thoughts. The feral hound developed into a puppy with eyes that pleaded for a belly scratch. It would take him off guard for a few seconds when she was alongside him, his gaze fixed on her as he listened to her talk. Prioritizing her remarks above others' suggestions—but not in the sense of leadership, but rather of attention. Sure, he elevated the feminine, but he still felt as if he had more power deep within the swamp of thinking.

Names were simple to learn. Playing kind was a norm, despite the fact that he lacked the desire to push it ahead. He wondered whether anyone else was alive—perhaps Cyrillus, who was like a bug and could withstand anything thrown at him despite his foolish behavior. Alya seems to have bombarded him with inquiries, leaving him hungry for the answers.

" Auntie's? She's probably wearing a glamour, you know that, right? I don't typically trust potion makers, but if you insist....If there's any blood shed along the way, I don't mind getting my hands dirty. "

Oh, he knew as soon as he saw the elderly woman. It was written all over her face, smelling like sour milk and growing like mildew. Bad people and things were always the same, and Dhaunafein took delight in being the blackest sheep in the flock. Self-righteousness sprang from the fact that certain things had lost their purity. He wouldn't be shocked if 'Auntie' had the same desire for chaotic devastation as the others.

𓆩♱𓆪

Flicking back out of his thought process, he'd listen to her next hushed words. He let out a short snicker of delight at the slide of old personality qualities he had always appreciated. " Yeah? How strongly do you feel that way? Something tells me she might not make the stew taste the best. But we all have our special ingredients, you cheeky pup. " He'd mock the extras, playing around with it whether she realised or not.

Clearly, he was not rejecting her because of her idealistic beliefs. Softer with her, even in his monotone-drenched voice, as if he did not care or did not want to cope with anything.

" Did she give you directions? " Posing a query. He was brilliant at tracing down people and understanding the ins and outs of unfamiliar locales because of his line of work.

[thosewhohunger]

"You're a real pro," said Mason thoughtlessly, taking his eyes off Felix for a moment to admire how quickly and neatly she did it. Rude, an assumption of of course she can do it, an unconscious dismissal of her as a person due to circumstances beyond her control. He didn't mean anything behind it, but the unpleasant implications were there. With her having taken his, Elias took his own supplies from the pack and followed along. He mimicked her movements, following along at a slower pace as he copied the way she did it. A passable attempt, speaking of some familiarity at least even if not a frequent indulgence. People had been rolling tobacco and other substances for centuries, after all. His fumbling was more because a maneuvering a puppet was never as easy as simply moving. "One light, as requested," he gave a cocksure grin, holding up a lighter. The buzzing of an agitated insect of no consequence no matter the size. Amusement from the shadow, knowing what a fine line he was walking. Bold, and reveling in his boldness. A bad trip was in store if he had his way, his kind fed on misery.

With a shrug of the shoulders, we return to reality. Just like water off a duck's back. Shit....No wonder why her family abandoned her. At the very least, Felix would comprehend what she said later.

" Holland? Hunting? Huh. Well fuck me sideways, I think the urban wastelands made me forget people do that. "

Nah.

They were just impoverished and disliked the thought of taking life, as least Kirya did. Watching the light go from a live thing's eyes is an experience that never ends. Like a tattoo inked into the soul. Most people assumed she was following some hippie dippy crap. Whatever, it's better than describing how you removed people's souls from their bodies as if it were just regular Tuesday. " Poor dog. "

Turning her head, she'd glance towards Felix. " Give the guys the good stuff. It'll really knock their socks off...Annnnnd....You know me so hand it over, Kitty-cat. " She would jest teasingly, almost flirtatiously, but she never went into it with real intent. Grabbing the bag, she would rummage through it, feeling a slight buzz from the alcohol. Another stop to take another swig before setting it down and looking, mumbling the names to herself.

" Nah. Nah. Nah...Ohhohoho... This is it. "

Snatching out a small bag with a different strain before she moved herself to sit next to Elias. She would put the bag to her eye before making a motion at him, being friendly but not getting near enough to touch his shoulders. " Give me the rolling papers. I'm better at it and maybe, just maaaaybe I can teach you. "

𓍢ִ໋🀦

Blindness would flick, bringing the beast closer to her while chills ran down her arms.

【ＹＯＵ．　

ＢＬＵＥ　ＨＡＩＲＥＤ　ＷＯＭＡＮ．　ＡＲＥ　ＹＯＵ　ＡＢＬＥ　ＴＯ　ＳＥＥ　ＭＥ？】

A squint would occur, as would a slight shift of her head, but nothing too dramatic to catch anyone's notice. Confirmation of the existence caused it to perk its wings up, recognizing it might take advantage of this.

【Ｉ　ＲＥＱＵＩＲＥ　ＹＯＵＲ　ＡＳＳＩＳＴＡＮＣＥ．　ＹＯＵ　ＳＥＥ，　ＴＨＩＳ　ＦＩＥＮＤ　ＩＳ　ＮＯＴ　ＡＬＬＯＷＥＤ　ＩＮ　ＭＹ　ＷＯＯＤＳ．　ＹＯＵ　ＨＵＭＡＮＳ　ＭＡＹ　ＲＥＭＡＩＮ，　ＢＵＴ　ＨＥ　ＭＡＹ　ＮＯＴ．】

There was no reaction back. The beast was waiting for a response that she could not provide since she was just playing it off. A scoff at the mysterious item to pull, knowing full well that the driver of the body could hear everything and was most likely ridiculing him. Meanwhile, Kirya was attempting to figure out what was going on; Elias appeared to be a normal human being to her. But it wasn't like her intuition was the greatest, more of the type to just go with the flow. What happens happens... Right?

When she finally received the paper, she proceeded to roll the higher quality together. She was skilled, like if she had been doing it for years. " So you go like that. Make sure it's nice and tight. Mhm? " She would bring the paper to her lips, lick it to seal it, and then twist the back. " Ta-da, thank you, really, but hold the applause. The real entertainment is just a light away. "

[thosewhohunger]

What a sweet thing. Firmness giving way to meekness, resilience tempered by kindness. The world would spit her out carelessly. Even the convent couldn't protect her, not really. There were opportunities for abuse even in the House of the Lord, and he'd see her protected from that as best he could.

A whole catalogue of forms at his command. Some ancient, some more recent. All of them used at one time or another to lure in the weary, the wary. While his kind were masters of lies and deceit, there was something appealing about letting her see himself and still throwing herself into his waiting maw.

"Not rude at all," he assured her, softened by her sweetness. A gentle voice, even and measured. Masculine and friendly. Definitely not someone who was supposed to be there. "It is quite late and I hope you'll forgive my trespass. I couldn't help but see who our newest resident is. I was friends with the room's previous occupant before she was transferred, and I was curious as to who had taken her place."

A shape formed in the darkness, mostly human. An appearance of a man, with bare chest on display. Glacier-pale skin, with darker hair only barely hiding the numbs of goat horns. Pleasing, even features, leaning more towards preternatural beauty than chiseled handsomeness. Something to appeal, humans had a tendency towards shallowness even if their guard was up. The blue-yellow eyes of a goat met hers as he approached with a smile. Not a human, not anything godly or virtuous but so good at pretending.

Difficult swallowing.

Despite a tiny aching in her heart, she kept her concentration on the page, not wanting to let anything slide. It would be pushed down, as it usually is.

Thoughts would vanish for a minute as her focus was drawn elsewhere. Observant mind becoming more aware of the surroundings as a result of her inner upheaval, playing tug of war with religion, and the lists born to be followed until death led you to the golden gates.

That was the intention, wasn't it?

Auburn brows would untense despite a shiver lining her spine. Light eyes trailed down to the area of the door where air might escape as the room became more frigid. What may be the reason for this? In all honesty, she should have been anxious and afraid, even in the home of God, where he kept a close check on the flock of sisters. Surely cascading with the written message of the devil.

Did she just hear her name being called? It sounded fairly manly; it could not have been any of the other sisters. Curiosity drove her to formulate theories. It appears she was quite the little investigator. Shifting in youth, bearing adventure in her spirit, even if it was snuffed out and bound to a radiator of biblical functions with no way out. Entrapment is misinterpreted as safety.

The candles that kept the room dark but well-lit would flicker as if they had noticed the shift as much as she had. Before moving over to the little bed in the corner, she would place her hand on the back of her neck, experiencing goosebumps. Of course, she extracted the spare blanket from its tidy fold before wrapping it over herself. Direction would bend her head toward the window.

Something in her subconscious warned her not to.

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

Gentle fingers would undo the latch and gradually push the window open. Her sockets cast a short gaze into the darkness as if she could see something. She would rub her shoulders from the air that had unknowingly entered her sacred jail cell.

"....Is anyone out there? I trust you are aware that disturbing at such hours is against word. Unless you have a bad cold, I doubt you are a sister of faith. In such a case, I sincerely apologize. Oh, I probably seem quite rude. "

How sweet she was, naive in every way she could possibly be. If it was not that, had she just apologized to a probable threat? Regardless, it was always preferable to be courteous than confrontational in any scenario.

[thosewhohunger]

Teeth piercing flesh, eyes brightening in interest. The savagery so tightly kept under wrap peeking out. A match to Damian's own so frequently worn on his sleeve. Thudding heart start-stuttering, a flush at the cannibal being the one to be consumed. Flattering, to have Tobias indulge in Damian's own pastime in times of heightened emotion.

"More than you," he taunted, the Spanish understood but more comfort taken from speaking English. Too many generations away from his roots, assimilated into the greater culture. Laughter tinged his tone, inflammatory. No fear of Tobias, who matched his own heart so closely despite their differences.

He kept ahold of the bottle, trying to pry Tobias off him, rolling so he was on top to push away. Tobias wasn't willing to play, but he was still treating this as a game. The temptation to leave Tobias like this, feral and wild and beautiful with blood dripping between teeth, was overwhelming.

Salvation was just a whimper away, eyes tracking the movements of his hands as he made a frustrated groan. He was preparing to thrash at Damian's legs, clutching his arms around them so tightly that if balance was not maintained, he might collapse.

Gritting his teeth, he would talk between them. A neglected bottle was picked up and left behind for emergency use if he had not called for a refill. It occasionally slipped his memory, but the accumulation of missing doses on purpose for the quest grew.

" You little— They take time to work, you're doing this on purpose. You want me to ask them?! FINE! "

[◉¯]

Despite his debilitated mental state, he had managed to trip the fatal love up. Hands slapped against the wooden planks, and his weight leaned heavily on him. In desperation, he attempted to wrestle the tablets from his grasp; even though he lacked muscular mass, adrenaline provided him with power. Heavy breathing lingers in the entanglement as if a ferocious beast were about to tear something apart.

" Hijo de puta, dame mi medicación... Damián... Aquí no tienes ninguna ventaja. ¿Qué te hace pensar eso? "

Native languages, taught by grandmas. A strong indicator that he was not willing to mess around with him. Tobias would lean down and fasten his jaws on the neck, establishing his claim for possessive release. A forceful tug draws blood. It made no difference whether Damian derived pleasure or pain from the kind. He really couldn't care at the moment when all he heard was shallow laughter raping his eardrums at such a sight of a beast.

They do say that animals bite when they are cornered.

[thosewhohunger]

A small shake of the bottle answered one of the questions, pills rattling together loudly. A nearly full bottle, just how many doses had Tobias missed? Rudely, Damian kept them behind his back. A temporary measure, he'd not be so crass as to make Tobias beg for them.

"Of course I did. They don't hide things from me," his eyes dropped to Tobais's hands, itching to feel them around his neck as promised. He really did say the sweetest things when he was like this. A little death, to savor that final struggle as the body fought its life. "If you want it though, you'll need to interpret for me. They hid it for a reason, because they have words to impart. If not her, then who? We've already started, and now they want to pull the rug right from under us?"

He couldn't decide if he liked that idea or not. The process had already started, the trail already set. Switching the main star felt like it was coming far too late. There was no understudy prepared, never had they needed one in the past. A second performer at times, to tide them over to opening night, perhaps. But never was there an entire change in the cast.

See how earnest Tobias was about this. He was always his most honest when control slipped from his grasp.

Growling emerges from the exhibition of a wounded animal, with legs curled inward. As he heard the answers, his senses were flooded with aversion; he tried to focus on the cacophony and came dangerously near to puking on himself. He would swallow it down, letting off a little heave that threatened the environment.

A forced laugh would entice.

It was both frustrating and intrigued him.

" Could you really accomplish that? You've got them curious... "

Slightly challenging despite the current hurricane of chaotic disaster. As if Tobias could gather himself in an instant if lover boy approached him in the same way he had before. Who possessed the upper hand? The vulnerability was high, causing the tongue to salivate. Two vicious dogs gripped onto the throat, playfully threatening to tear each other apart.

Isn't that what love was?

[◉¯]

" I would believe you if you didn't burn everything you tried to cook. You have no idea what I enjoy. Maybe I don't even like you. It's plausible. "

Another crazy chuckle erupted, followed by a grunt and a tiny wiggle against the boards. " Damian, I am going to strangle you." While the threat bore no guarantee of death, he nearly cooed it forth in a trembling voice. Even his demons were smiling, amused by the tide wave of anarchy in the brain waves, which crowded the room like a corpse pit.

Unpredictable.

As he dragged himself up again, the sad motions came to a halt, and black bags appeared under his eyes. A tunnel of sight leading to another.

" Did you find it? They're saying you did. "

Knees would gently slide forward, mimicking the stance of a black cat as he approached closer in recognition and prowled. Wondering if Damian would tease the saving dose to end his misery. He would glance up at him with uncertain eyes, and depending on his activities at the time, he might or might not be ravenous later as he sneered and stopped at his legs from below. The typically more powerful force is stuck in his own maze of agony.

[thosewhohunger]

Grumbling from the part of the 'strays'. It's a battle of egos, forceful personalities all jostling for control of the little group. For now Alya was the nominal leader only because she was the one most willing to talk to people. She liked talking to people, even if she was left off-kilter and reeling.

They hadn't yet quite figured out how to manage her, though they'd noticed how easily she could be swayed. Her mind was only barely her own, still developing a personality. Re-devoloping, really. When she was young she'd had a murderous butler to help guide her budding monstrosity.

Now she had Dhaunafein.

Ignoring their snark Alya hurried to catch up, falling in to step beside him and looking up sweetly. Behind those eyes murder stirred, each breath constrained violence waiting to be unleashed. Even though she instinctively trusted Dhaunafein, that didn't mean she wasn't imagining carving out his heart. But Astarion had cautioned her that such thoughts were better kept to oneself, and Lae'zel had told her to direct such impulses towards their enemies.

"We can also try Auntie's?" everything came out a question, a far cry from the self-assured assassin she'd once been. "She sells lotions and potions and invited me to her teahouse.

"I told her I wanted to drown her in a boiling stew," Alya admitted, raspy voice going to even more of a whisper. Confessing a dirty dark deed, knowing she wasn't supposed to say that to Ethel and probably shouldn't be telling Dhaunafein either, "and she called me a cheeky pup!"

Fondness laced her tone. As far as she was concerned, that was a more appropriate way to respond to such promises. Everyone's insistence on stifling herself felt so very wrong. Red eyes searched his, seeking condemnation or approval. Like a puppy, seeking any scrap from any hand.

A mental note was taken of her reaction to his name. No comment would be made in this respect, with his attention scrutinizing everything he could to conceal any signs of dissatisfaction. The quivering in the details caused him to sigh quietly.

And then he would realize in his analytic condition. He chuckled softly, a faint smile curving at the corner of his lips. He felt almost proud that a trace of murder remained. " I see. "

Pausing for a second, he'd speak again before turning to walk away from her in a direction exiting the grove, figuring she'd get the hint.

" It won't be hard to find. Goblins are easy to track inconsideration they smell like piss and cheap wine..." To wonder about the voyage ahead, the misfortune to reflect as he knew obstacles would arise in his hunt for a remedy. Something warned him it would be a long time before the aim was precisely realized. But he did not mind since he was glad she was alive, even if it appeared she had bits of her mind lost to her.

𓆩♱𓆪

For the time being, he would keep his thoughts in the shadows, thinking his own questions without purposefully putting the desire for answers on his tongue forward. " You've got a camp, right? You seem to have quite a few stray animals. I doubt they can go for lengthy periods without rest, let alone function properly at night since they aren't drow. "

No hope for the others.

The sight of other men flocking in for a collective effort was already bothering him; he would at least abstain from slitting anyone's throat until necessary. Not that he was concerned about his tiny dark urge being unable to handle herself even with the spell of sorrow wrapped around her—but he did tend to keep an eye out to ensure that such an event did not occur.

[thosewhohunger]

"Don't tempt me," Damian snapped back, rolling his shoulders to try and fruitlessly expend some of the restless energy growing. Each spiteful little taunt pressed against ice-thin control leaving little cracks in its wake. Spiderwebbing along the surface, leaving a rising pressure that crawled beneath his skin. Reminding him that it'd been some time since the flesh of a loved one graced his tongue was not the way to get him to move faster.

"But maybe you'd like that? I could peel you apart piece by piece the way they never could. Not a masala, but maybe molleja. One slice at a time, don't pretend you wouldn't be begging for my love," the medication wasn't on top of the bookshelf, so he checked behind each of the photos lining the walls as he spoke. Each word was more intense than the last, a slow drawl in comparison to Tobias's frantic verse. Contemplating the possibilities before him.

Spackle was to be found behind most of them, repaired time and time again as the voices picked almost cartoonishly ridiculous places to hide things. Behind the third one, a lovely landscape taken by Tobias, he found what he was looking for. A hollowed out little nook. Hastily and messily done and just large enough for the medication and some bits of paper that Damian would check out later.

It's playing with fire when Tobias was like this, a pathetic wretch on the ground. Sniveling and crying, leaving Damian to look at him with fond revulsion. What a mess.

There are several hiding areas distributed throughout the home. One in practically every room; they would be there even if he couldn't recall or see. The world—the room surrounding him in another dimension—as perspiration still dripped from his brow. He would halt and gaze at the other, almost whimpering. Vulnerability was unusual for him since he was normally so pleasant and composed.

" I talk to YOU. So, in principle, they also communicate with you. As an interpreter for the deaf. It is more difficult than merely hearing them, Damian. "

Agitation reigned, his fingertips driving into his own skin with such force that it became white. " No. Not usually... That isn't relevant right now; we can discuss it later when you are more useful. Now please, be a darling and go a bit faster. " A hiss between his teeth—not quite intended, but he adored the other.

His body would slump to the floor, giving up the battle to lift himself before he let out a breath, virtually crawling over to his lover for rescue, even if it would do him no good till he received his medication. If you did not know what was going on, it was practically a theatrical exhibition; despite this, he would be ashamed afterward.

[◉¯]

" You, too, did not like her. I am sure you didn't.I suppose....I should trust your instincts more frequently. But you know me. "

Words were mumbled. Despite his body's obvious signs, he refused to acknowledge defeat. He would allow himself to embrace the wooden floor boards, his cheek pressing firmly against the surface while squeezing his eyes tight. To put it mildly, the other's presence and assistance provided him with some relief from his deadly hammering heart.

" One day, I will let you cut my scalp all the way down to the bone. Circle cuts. Sip the brain fluid and boil the membranes for a delicious masala. WOULD YOU WANT THAT, DAMIAN? WOULD THAT MAKE YOU FASTER? "

SWEETENED WORDS WITH BITTER STAINING.

After such a comment, he would curl into a feral stance. It may have been from the heart, given that Tobias was never a flesh eater in the beginning—more of the cook before having a taste—and while he doubted Damian could make a wonderful Masala, his body was undoubtedly on the menu for future reference if he died first.

[thosewhohunger]

No one else noticed the creature, no reaction was given. Even with it hovering, buzzing more of a yell than a whisper, into Elias's ear he didn't give it any acknowledgement. The thing that piloted his body had no fear of breaking the rules nor their consequences. If anything he reveled in it, sought ways to push limits.

Rules were made to be broken. He was proof enough of that.

"The dog's name is Holland, actually. My father was big into hunting," explained Mason amiably. Certainly not something someone not in his social circle would understand unless she was perhaps a gun enthusiast. Even then it was unlikely, given the price point. And yet he said it so casually, as if naming the dog after what seemed to be a country was an obvious joke.

"They wanted quantity over quality," scoffed Felix, rolling her eyes. They were merely playing at this, enjoying a weekend break from things. The amount they'd wanted was good for a larger group than was there, but money hadn't been an object for them. It was just scraping together enough weed and whatever else to satisfy. "So I got some off Benny. And Sofia, and Lamarcus."

All people she'd was friendly with or dated in the past, people she trusted to not cut them with anything too off-the-wall. It was a subtle way too of letting Kirya know there were stronger offerings than just the joint if she wanted.

"Did you want something else? I was sticking with what I know, but you can have your pick of whatever else Felix got us," Elias offered, glancing in the bag again, as if he wasn't quite sure what else there was or how to even use it.

A drag that wets the tip that has previously been touched by someone else's lip. Something about the comfort of narcotics being the closest thing to physical contact. Drugs were a common occurrence on the isle, with some being more dangerous than others in terms of taking away family members.

Fucking shame.

Puffs of smoke lingered for a second, almost intrigued by his loose response. It would ooze from her nostrils like a ferocious dragon until she took one more hit and blew it into his face before speaking again.

" Where'd you get this from? They got better down Smiths Ave. Quality is important. "

She placed her confidence in Felix. If she hadn't, she would never have shown up; it was a small contract among the stray cats and pups to always have each other's backs, no matter what. Even if some of their tactics did not follow a single line, they succeeded. Her gaze stayed focused on the curly-haired until the hair on her arms beneath her jacket rose. Not yet affected by substance considering Kai could probably take enough shit to take out an elephant and be fine.

Tolerance was a strength when despair and stress weighed more than any gram you could get your hands on. Not that she had much impact, but addiction provided a strong embrace when the actual thing was unavailable. Pausing for a second, she'd toss her sight to the trees as they almost shivered, leaning back slouched. A brow lifted, catching the piercing that hung from the skin before she gently moved her head back, avoiding intuition, to look at Elias and respond.

" Yeah...A local. We can call it that, sure. Lemme guess? You're from upperside? Got a nice groomed dog named Dior? Coco? "

𓍢ִ໋🀦

Teasingly, she'd joke, a smug grin on her face. This was not a contract agreement, so she did not need to whip out the crystal ball and wave her hands around like she knew what was going on in exchange for some money. However, for some reason, her expression changed.....As they slid higher, the whitened blindness began to zero in on something she had not anticipated to be lurking over Elias.

" Hum.... "

Not that she would say anything about it, but the gigantic shadow of an insect hovering over the other was extremely distracting. Giant eyeballs gazed down, making buzz-like noises. It nearly looked to be saying something.

【ＹＯＵ　ＡＲＥ　ＮＯＴ　ＳＵＰＰＯＳＥＤ　ＴＯ　ＢＥ　ＨＥＲＥ．　ＹＯＵ　ＡＲＥ　ＡＷＡＲＥ　ＯＦ　ＴＨＥ　ＲＵＬＥＳ．　ＴＨＩＳ　ＩＳ　ＴＲＥＳＰＡＳＳＩＮＧ．】

A flutter of the wing would fling the paper he was rolling to the ground, the fire in front of them flickering back in a fury at the auburn-haired. The witch would blink her eyes and shake her head, trying not to draw attention to the fact that she was seeing something no one else could.

Despite its measures, the creature would notice that it was being observed. Bugged glass stared right at her before disappearing.

" Maybe....The strain isn't as bad as I thought it was...Huh. " Murmuring to herself, attempting to absorb what the fuck she had just seen. Wasn't like you often saw giant mothed creatures threatening rich youth.

[thosewhohunger]

"Dhaunafein," she repeated, committing the name to memory. The syllables were familiar, easy to form. The name fit him, made sense in a way little else had. Her brow furrowed, thinking and slow to release the grip. Fingers trembling against her will. Not something she could control, nerve damage from an injury she didn't even know existed. "We were actually just leaving," she was quick to take the out when it was offered. Eventually someone would figure out Nettie was missing and suspicion would surely turn to the group. Alya was wearing evidence of their misdeeds, the little leaf circlet that controlled the great stone door. Leaving the corpse hidden sat ill with some part of her. She longed to leave it on display; this was as close as she could get for now. The others had recommended caution and secrecy, and she was all too easy to sway in the direction of whoever spoke loudest. "The healer didn't know anything so we're going to look for someone named Halsin? At the goblin camp, wherever that is." Looking at him openly, as though maybe he had more answers. Everything about him triggered the strangest sense of deja vu, like a word on the tip of the tongue she couldn't quite recall.

Maintaining his deathly eyes on her as if he were exorcising a cadaver. A glance back, noting the gathering of stray animals who shared a tribal connection in the form of slime and fangs. It would quickly return to her as if it had not departed at all.

Pits formed in his gut, despite the steel barricade that kept any actual feeling hidden. The head would tilt in inquiry, the eye contact lingering in an unpleasant air despite the lack of any desire to frighten her. Even if she had forgotten everything about him—perhaps deep down she hadn't—he would maintain his tone. It wasn't exactly pleasant, lingering in the lines of cold and stone. Despite this, he would still see her as an equal since he clutched his memories so strongly. It was not uncommon in the underground to demonstrate such respect for the opposing gender.

The name caused his eyes to squint. Going back to square one was not something he wanted to cope with, and meetings and greets were bothersome. But if this was what was going to happen, he could not dispute it immediately. When her hand was extended, the underworld-like colors would slide down, his arms relaxing in position before unraveling the bonds in posture. He would gently put his hand beneath hers.

Aside from the callouses that had formed on his fingertips as a result of duties on lists, his touch was softened. Even if it had never been admitted in the past, it was clear that it was not the touch of someone who had just met another, but rather someone they had known for years.

Someone unwilling to forget.

How could you possibly have forgotten? He never forgot much, as if every small thing preserved the novel Life and After as your least favorite book. But couldn't help but keep going back to reread each line in the pages as the new script was written.

Poetic at most; he'd bring the back of her hand to his lips before pressing a gentle kiss.

The predator's sight moves in subtle rhythms.

𓆩♱𓆪

" Dhaunafein. "

He would let go of her hand and revert to his previous stature before continuing to speak.

" Yeah. Alright. If you're looking for something here, the healer is a cunt and I don't recommend it. Unless you want to support the racist bastards and cope with slander that makes you want to slaughter everyone, I recommend moving on. "

At the very least, he provided an option. Wondering what she would do and if the residual bloodlust had not been extinguished.

[thosewhohunger]

There were only so many places his medication could be. The hallucinations that plagued him needed Tobias as vessel, to puppet his limbs to conceal things. It fell to Damian to uncover them.

"You know they don't talk to me," he reminded Tobias, somewhat pointlessly as he started his search. The first place to check was top of the bookshelf, high enough that it wasn't easily visible. Out of sight, out of mind. After that he'd check each place - there was a little hideyhole in each room. Given the state of this one, however, Damian suspected some part of Tobias knew where his meds were and had started here for a reason. "They've never had a problem with the pick before, have they?" There had been something off from the get-go. Damian hadn't quite shared in Tobias's enthusiasm this time. His own affections were slower to form, but no less intense once he'd latched on. Thus far they hadn't formed at all, a concerning abnormality. Normally he'd be chomping at the bit, pouring over illicitly obtained photographs and videos. Literally drooling over the thought of what was to come, salivating at the final consummation. The woman they'd chosen this time was oddly unappetizing, leaving Damian oddly lukewarm.

Teeth gritting in agony, enough to saw through the enamel and fracture the jaw bone. Some episodes were minor, while others were more severe, with the photographs serving as a form of punishment for failing to feed it.

In slow motion, feathers overrun the typically ornately furnished abode. In his changed state, he saw only charred pits of ruin. It would take a moment for him to realize the only one who could see his way through the sludge. He was supposed to be one of them earlier but evolved into something more.

One became t w. o; after all, you always needed a companion in crime, right?

[◉¯]

Strained eyes eventually flickered up, revealing bloodshot marks. Hands gripped hard at the sides of his face as if he were hyperventilating. Speaking in an irregular rhythm, almost in obfuscated mumbled riddles.

" No. Dami? Oh, please. You know they are unhappy because they always tell us. I don't think they like the pick. They want something else. Something is in the way. They want me to know. "

While the statements made sense to him, they may have been spoken backward. He would retain his distance, his back firmly pressed against the wall, while an entanglement only visible to his sight wrapped around him in a cacoon-like pattern.

" They won't let me have my medication. They're punishing me, and yes, I'm very clear you don't want to CHANGE the outcome of plans. "

Suffering under the boot of reality was not anything new. Shuddering as he tried to examine the facial characteristics of his not-directly acknowledged adored, a swirl of crimson took over as if someone had smacked him in the face, even though it was all a lie. Not that Tobias would ever say Damian would have a role in the illusions as much as anything else might.

He would slowly drag himself against the wall, attempting to peel off the ties and almost collapsing on himself.

" F...Fucking. They intend to make me suffer. Do SOMETHING? Stop looking at me like that. You know how much I dislike that expression. "

[thosewhohunger]

He was quiet for a moment, looking between his now-empty hand and then Kirya. Slowly processing, one could practically hear the gears turning in his head. Either too high or simply slow, brow furrowing. A quietness hung in the air, like everyone was waiting on baited breath to see how he'd react. Felix had invited her, wouldn't put her in danger. And yet briefly there was the flash of something like that. The slow realization that something was watching in the dark, the still air at midnight.

Gone as quickly as it'd come, so brief as to simply be imagination. Elias smiled wide, running a hand through dark auburn curls.

"Sure, help yourself. We have plenty where that came from," he cast a half-smile her way, lazy and languid. He leaned over to root around in a duffel bag, looking for more and some paper to roll it.

"You're a local, right? Like our Felix?" asked Mason. Our. As if she could ever truly belong among them when she was just another oddity. She may not wear it as obviously in her scent and clothes but it was there in her bright green hair and the way her eyes made sure she knew where any exit was for a quick getaway.

His question painted him as not. Probably from the upper side, where they considered themselves so very separate from the scum of the slums. Removed from regular considerations, a carefully curated menagerie they created for themselves. Less than an hour's drive away, just outside the city really. Rolling neighborhoods where each home was behind a gate with sprawling opulent lawns. Still an entirely different world, despite geographical proximity.

Hands were buried deep in the pockets of an antique leather jacket scented with incense. One of her favorites to wear when she obtained it from a street elder before he overdosed, she would tinker with the holes in it to distract from the feeling of being uncomfortable. Even while atom bombs were pouring down from the sky, a good con artist maintained the finest poker face. Kiyra had a third sense or the ability to detect a hoax from a long distance.

At least in terms of social relations...

There was a slight quiet glance over at the scenery, her eyes furrowing for a split second as she watched Felix make her giddy little way over. Her brow would lift before she delivered a confident salute in cordial welcome, fingertips peeping through black gloves that reached up to her mid-shoulders if you were able to battle her to remove the jacket. " Hey'ya Felix....And other people. " And when she realized she was being offered something, she scrunched her nose up for a second. Giving the other a dissatisfied glance before slipping the gesture into the back pocket of her jeans and forgetting about it.

When they were introduced, she would bite her tongue about their appearances—after all, eating the affluent was a moral idea for her. People in need were valued more than the adorned.

Fucking wasps.

Felix, what exactly are you doing?

Felix... Do you realize how much we could aid the others if you robbed them completely?

What sort of party was this?

𓍢ִ໋🀦

The blue-haired misfit with rough clothes and unusual aroma did not match the turnout. God, this was going to be a long night; she immediately wanted to get away. Perhaps she would be able to sneak away if everyone was high... Perhaps she could just intoxicate herself enough to accelerate the process. Already contemplating how to get the hell out of this predicament, like a cat forced to take a bath.

Without hesitation, she would reach for the toughest drink she could find. She claimed a bottle before sitting down on the ground, a little further away from the others but still across from them. She would raise her finger to signify a second to Elias before nearly gulping the liquor. She would pause, press her hand on her face, and look him over, allowing the odors to enter her nose. A cunning and deceptive smile clung to her face.

Now, we will start the repellant game.

" Oh yeah? Talking me up for weeks? Well, I guess I'm all that and a bag of chips. If you don't mind expiration dates. "

However, she could not help but feel odd in the company of this stranger. To say the least, he exuded dumbassery with a bundle of cash in his pocket, but perhaps the night would be intriguing. She would then extend her hand before bending forward to remove the material from his grasp without making any contact. So quick it'd probably take a second to notice it was gone.

" Sharing is caring. Finders keepers. "

[thosewhohunger]

She may not have died, but it would have been preferable to this half state she existed in. Not at all there, and not fully aware of this either. Eyes like pools of blood - easy to pass off as a gift of Lolth if one didn't know better. They reflected the world back, uncomprehending and struggling to make sense of things.

Her heart thudded in her chest, something shifting behind her eyes. Not quite recognition still. The name he spoke didn't mean anything to her. It may as well have been a foreign language, the way Lae'zel sometimes slipped into her own. She didn't know what it might mean, but there was a great deal she was ignorant of. Whoever she'd been before was wiped clean. The drow before him only shared the face of the once vibrant and vivacious killer, the clever thing that that sought to bring the world to heel in the name of her Father.

"Oh," she nodded. That made sense. A silly question really, one that had hardly been worth asking. A pink tongue wet try lips, eyes rolling a bit to the heavens as she contemplated what was to happen next. He hadn't given her much to work with. May as well be direct about things then. At least he wasn't threatening her with a knife to the neck, or talking down to her. Not the same way some of the others had, flinching for no reason she could figure out.

She stuck out her hand, "I'm the Dark Urge. Would you like to travel together? Since we're in the same situation."

It was the same name she'd given to him the first time they'd met. The name of the one Chosen to slaughter the world, to leave carnage in her wake. Nothing more than what her Father wanted, a proxy for his own bloodlust. Her own name was something only shared among those she trusted. Even those that knew it in the cult tended to defer to the title. A constant reminder of her purpose.

They persuaded themselves it was preferable to avoid the monsters born from the darkness, but it did not stop the unnecessary remark. At the very least, they were too preoccupied with their own skins to concentrate on a topic that never really mattered.

However, frustrating.

Slaughtering in herds was never particularly interesting. The romanticism of ruby puddles overflowing the gaps and crevices to beautify DEATH styles stuck in thoughts.

More vital issues.

Hobbies could wait; he was not foolish enough to create a pointless scene and had priorities. A cross of his arms as he spoke, useless wares to sell to get where needed. Baldur's Gate would gripe and bitch about so many lives, particularly those of the demons. What happened here did not immediately affect him, thus the offer of aid was most likely flattering. If they are intended to survive, they will.

𓆩♱𓆪

Then he heard familiarity, a perfume that was almost nostalgic as it entered his nose. He paused mid-sentence to swivel his head, menacing blue colors revealing stories of terror. Something that would make even the faint of hearts shudder in fear. Nauseated pits in the stomach from intimidation had nothing to do with race but more with the engraving on his spirit.

A scitter in his cranium, as if swimming in a glass vial of uranium green, jerking against the skull in a desire to communicate. They recognized their own, as did the dark assassin.

It appears like fate intended for him to cross paths with her instead. He remained silent for a minute, a hint of perplexity creeping in as his head twisted. When attention was diverted, it appeared that the trader swiftly sealed his mouth, most likely due to the eerie atmosphere of malevolent spirits illuminating a spark that formerly danced among bodies. An impulse to reach out and check the fading hair that was strewn out haphazardly, but a feeling not to.

" Alya...What the fuck did they do to you, are you alright? I thought you were dead. "

Sure, he might have answered her inquiry, but was he also there? He certainly was. Clearly, the small fiend scratching at the walls could corroborate this in an instant. Was she unable to recognize him? It was not like he would change much since their previous encounter... Did he?

Fuckin' nonsense. Something was wrong. He'd bite back his queries, her eyes almost seemed dull, transparent in matters of recognition. Posture would return to a more serious tone; he was never known to make such demonstrations in public.

Just seeing her and hearing her in such a state triggered a peculiar stirring sensation inside him. For once, someone he cared about did not end up in a coffin six feet underground, with a forgotten gravestone serving as the only reminder of their existence.

Finally, he would answer the question.

" Yes. Yes, I was. Given you are making the little fucker in my mind do a jig. "

Even though his gaze never leaves her face, he maintains a frigid demeanor. You could never read the drow, the towering barriers that appeared to shatter in an instant with her presence.

A companion in crime,

Lost in mind,

Something awry,

Slivers in gray.

[thosewhohunger]

Faces swam past, each bleeding into the other. The pounding in her head a wardrum in time with each beat of her heart. The Dark Urge wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing there. They’d come for a healer whose blood now soaked into old stone. It’d been so vibrant amidst the greenery. Felt so right. Same as the little girl, though her corpse was no doubt bloating and twisting due to the death adder’s poisonous kiss. 

Neither deaths were her fault, and yet she was still at the heart of them. Point and look at the denominator, at the outsider who walked among them. 

Truthfully she wasn’t entirely certain what the source of the conflict was. Both sides wore branches at their crowns, the only discernible differences as far as she was concerned was the colors - warm tones pitted against greens and browns, but even that wasn’t completely reliable. She left it to her companions, following them around like a lost puppy. Teeth gritted, bared even. Rabid and not even fit for speaking to children. 

She’d thought her call to be unafraid had been rallying, why were they crying?

Twitching fingers at the ends of crossed arms, lest she give into temptation. 

They talked like they were alive, when all she could see was potential. Or the end of it. That one there hacking away at the practice dummy could become one himself, strung up and left out as each hack left more and more of him dripping to the grounds oh how he’d scream let her cut into that flesh, the teacher’s voice grating he’d sound much better throat raw and bleeding from screaming 

The other stranger to the Grove was nearly impossible for her to miss, speaking with one of the shorter beings near the entrance. Other eyes may have ghosted over the moving shadow, unconsciously moving from the danger threat. Another lost traveler, looking for a healer already a day dead, getting their bearings. Something about the way they move, a coiled trap ready to spring at a moment’s notice, tugged at the writhing mess of her brain, spiders dancing in her stomach and crawling up her throat. Mind touching mind so briefly – 

Beautiful. No other word for it, body after body. The reasons mattered less to her - everyone had their excuses, falsehoods clung too to justify their favorites. All that mattered was the wash of red that left her gaping. She half expected to see him physically coated, some visible sign of the filth that clung to his soul and yet he wore only the smallest bits, dust from the trail. 

The afflicted should stay together. It was as Shadowheart had said, safety in numbers. 

“Excuse me? Sorry, I think – “ voice breathy and raspy, a lurid still-healing scar on her throat and temple. Damaged and repaired by unknown hands, taken apart and put back together in a fumbled jigsaw with parts still missing or bent. Confidence lost as soon as she opened her mouth, glancing at her companions and hoping one of them would take the lead. They didn’t, leaving her to flounder under the anxieties of social interaction when she already didn’t understand what she was supposed to say. “Were you… on the ship too?”

@thosewhohunger

• ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴏɴ 》 ᴅᴏɴɴʏ & ᴀʟʏᴀ

Nothing like having an unexpected visitor make a huge fuckin' hole in your mind. You could have passed for a defenseless animal splayed down on rocks, your guts ringing out like a party. Maggots slithering through the crevices in some weird form of creative vision. But, of course, doing some things might occasionally lead to the opposite outcome.

At the very least, he was alive.

Why wouldn't he be? Even if the heavens came tumbling down because the Gods commanded it to, he would be able to pull himself out like a necrotic creature coming back to life over and over. A respected and favored assassin who consistently completes tasks while exceeding expectations. Sure, most of his explanations were rubbish, but he didn't want to let anybody down.

And yet, as he made his way across the vast new wilderness, sun pounding down on blueish-grey skin like the subterranean, he could not help but respond in some sections of his psyche. One way in front of him, another swirling about in his head.

To be more intricate, you might say "squirming." It's best to clear your mind before embarking on a probable hallucination of someone you used to know but had not seen in years. A memory mirage?

Probably.

Perhaps it was the adverse effects.

STILL.

He couldn't get her face out of his head. That small part of him linked with her and may have missed her. He had always wanted someone to murder alongside, and who better than a bloodthirsty cultist? Never worry, entanglements can wait; he will figure it out later.

Track her down later.

It'd be no good, nor his....Oh, how cozy he would be if he developed some tentacles and turned into someone worth loathing. No, he would revert to his default and swim in the shadows, even if the light enveloped him.

𓆩♱𓆪

Why the fuck do people live up here? It smells bad, it feels horrible, but whatever, get the job done and quit thinking about it. At least the fearful ones were not complaining about his being, and he ended up looking for aid, which he never did, but the kids kept him busy. Tieflings, however, always transported him back to thoughts of the Kabrich siblings. By God's he fucking missed them, but he missed so many people after all. Death clung to him like the odor and stain of tobacco or blood on your boots.

Thinking if assisting them was a good idea or if it would merely drag his doom clock further into submission. Head out tomorrow to see what you can discover and pick if you want to be a nice person or an evil guy, as the ladder usually comes naturally.

[thosewhohunger]

Prayers rising to the heavens, only to fall on deaf ears. The concerns of angels were otherworldly, and mortal cries for succor were discarded allowing only for worship. At the Throne the angels sang, drowning out any doubt or dissension. Human faith wavered and teetered, spilling the prayers intended for God into the waiting laps of those cast out.

Carefully, carefully sorted through. All devils and demons had their favored prey, and Amon was especially particular. Wading through woes, seeking out sweet hesitance to lap greedily. Pure, uncorrupted by mortal vice. A believer who needed only be shown another path, to be made aware of the existence of the crooked way to the left.

Enamored in an instant.

Oh, what misery, to be left alone to rot? To hide such a candle under a bushel, hypocrites that followed a hypocrite God.

The question of form was always an important one. First impressions left an impact, trust to be gained before confession. A cold wind seeped through the cracks of her room. Amon was a creature of Pride and Treachery. The ice of the Ninth Circle was his to command, not the divine fires of punishment so often equated with his kind.

Annalise, he breathed softly, a cold breath on the back of her neck. Invisible for now, testing the edge of her senses. He could not enter her room, should not enter. Even the dormitory of the convent, so far from the chapel, was permeated in faith enough to make gall rise at back of his throat. But Amon was an old hand at this; she would not be the first he'd stolen from this cloister. So he lurked at the threshold of her window, prey-like eyes hiding the predator beneath.

@thosewhohunger

• 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖌𝖍 》 Annalise & Amon

Children require the care of both their mothers and fathers. But what happens if they receive neither? What happens if you were born to be something they did not want? Feminine elements were discarded for spiteful reasons, as if they were held to low standards. Babies are passed off to locations that may use them, giving them some type of purpose as if a place holder of—

You are worthless; you are not required.

But Annalise would never consider that. Her father told her that she had a purpose when she chose the correct route, one that any woman would die for. That is what he always stated.However, the mother made no more remark. Mother never said much when she considered it.

The hair would be pushed back and covered with a veil while ocean hues stare down. Black clothing was used to ensure that freckled skin remained pristine, with the tagline "sister" connected to the names. At the very least, you could form a family with the Gods and chosen children to follow among the masses. Despite a gut-wrenching tug in the pit of the stomach, duties must be fulfilled.

It was time for her to relax after chores, and the little room she kept to herself was devoid of color save for brown and white. The aroma of ancient books that should not have been handled until absolutely necessary. However, paper and an ink quill pen for writing were on her modest desk in the corner. A letter to her father, who had been abroad for a while, making faith-based talks. Danity wrote in lovely swirls on the page, practically silent, save for the murmur of a song coming from her lips, as if copying the organs.

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

" Dear father,

I do hope you are well--- "

The words would cease. Unsure what to say, because most of the previous letters had not received a response, she assumed he was busy. He was preoccupied....It had been a year, but that was to be expected when you were the daughter of a priest, right? Sent away to a nearby monastery to assist wayward souls. But what happens when you have a fleeting notion about if this is all there is? I was wondering whether the pages' actual title was abandonment.

Nonsense.

Do not consider this blasphemous.

Be a good girl.

A faithful sister.

Do not ask questions.

Do not entertain such impure notions.

[thosewhohunger]

It's the sound of crashing, of something being smashed against the wall that alerted Damian to a problem. At the first sound he looked up from his work, pausing and listening for a repeat. He didn't have to wait long, another loud crash prompting him to stand up and head to the source.

The room was a wreck. Strips off wallpaper had been ripped away, leaving jagged tears exposing the material underneath. Blood along the edges of the paneling, as though someone had tried between the seams with their bare hands. The couch had been moved and overturned, a whole torn into the bottom and fabric pulled away. More blood along the floor and scratches, as though the wood pattern on the floor was more than just peel-and-stick tile.

And in the center of it all was Damian's partner. Talking to something only he could see. It was too early for this yet, it's going off-script in a way that Damian wasn't sure he liked.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, having missed most of the conversation. It could be anything, really. With luck and a lot of experience, Damian hoped he'd be able to parse through what exactly the problem was. An empty pill bottle had been thrown against the wall, but that one was old, label faded. "You know they're never that helpful, maybe I can figure out where they hid it if you tell me what they stole." Damian may not see the things now, but he had before, on the occasion they'd used Toby's brain pattern as the perspective. At the very least he'd not be able to process they may not be real, not when he was in this state and Damian didn't much relish the thought of getting into a fight over it, not when he'd been holding himself back too long and was half-waiting for an excuse to let go himself.

@thosewhohunger

• A FʅASH OF BLOODLUST 》 ᵀᵒᵇⁱᵃˢ & ᴰᵃᵐⁱᵃⁿ

ＢＡＣＫ ＡＮＤ ＦＯＲＴＨ ＢＡＣＫ ＡＮＤ ＦＯＲＴＨ ＢＡＣＫ ＡＮＤ ＦＯＲＴＨ．

Can you hear that noise?

Do you notice that voice?

Did you see it?

I am certain you did.

I am not insane.

Another instance of skipped medicine. The little bitch made him forget. Too distracting; something about her kept his attention as if he were snapping countless mental snapshots.

Flash, click, flash, click.

The complaints poured in as usual. Previously, picking piqued intrigue, but this small parasite is gradually becoming the focus of devotion. Make the young girls disappear, merely a slash across the neck bound downwards in a series of images for sale. Some are to be kept.

They do not eliminate obsessions that soon; she was not the true chosen one. A choice made by mister hallucination, who is normally so suave and seductive, unable to maintain his masquerade as the pill bottle taunted him.

He flung it at the beasts. They snatched him. He SWEARS THEY DID! Paranoia has struck in like a plague. It was an illness, right?

[◉¯]

" No. I am aware you took my medicine. I know you are simply trying to make me stumble. I am sure you did. "

Shaky fingers tremble as they dab at the forehead behind heavy brown locks. His glasses fogged up, making things worse. Why has everything gotten worse? Damian? Is anyone there?

" I am going to get her. I promised you I would. Please just return my prescription, you bastards... I know you concealed it. "

Who was he conversing with? Well... Someone...Clearly?

Or maybe something.

Vicious howled at a tone, only he could understand as he felt his heart bursting. He would turn around, seeing the walls in charred, long, straight black hair that was gradually increasing in illusions. He could almost feel them twist around his ankles—imagery fueling obsession as her face melted into the nest.

" It's not time yet. The images must be flawless. Perfect. Fuck. Can't you just be patient? Patience produces outcomes. You already know this. How many times did I tell you this? Art takes TIME. Allow me time. "

Chittering reverberated in his ears. He would place plans to drown out the sounds; his face screwed up as sweat accumulated in the cool room.

How can you exist in a world that no one else understands? Blank photographs were strewn as payment for blood.

Delicious blood.