#menandros: undetermined verse

[stainedpast]

He knows: they are not human, he would have sensed their FILTH a miles away otherwise, his superiority- or maybe arrogance, fuels his dislike of them. This one though, dancing alluringly, leading their victims into their bait. He shouldn’t be affected too, should he?

——Oh! He is!

It is different to the rest of those who surround him, the consciousness is fighting to slip away as he watches men fall one after the other like dominos, his vision blurring by the second, THREATENING to disappear. It does eventually, the last image is of them standing afar, and then close, closer, too close, and then he is gone, slipping into darkness and unconsciousness.

@vulpesse | sc

[stainedpast]

Oh how he would love to tread into their mind again, to eavesdrop mischievously, but the current circumstances urge him not to succumb to his wishes, along with self-made rules not to use it so haphazardly. Their voiced thoughts almost bring a laugh to his chest; really? Then again, he won’t fault them for they are ignorant to who and what he truly is, mystery has always stirred fear and caution into the human heart after all- that, and the fact their brain has been messed with not long ago at his own hands.

A chuckle as his hand hovers over his forehead, still lying on the ground. ❝ If I wanted you dead, don’t you think I would have taken a shorter path? No amount of money is worth one’s safety. ❞ Nothing is, except family and loved ones, of course; these, he would through himself in the face of danger so blindly if it meant saving them, if it meant they would not suffer no matter how little.

A sigh before a slight groan demonstrates little struggle to sit up, the dagger still stuck to the ground. ❝ I’d be heartbroken if you didn’t recognize me. ❞ Humorously, he admits previous encounters, isn’t that what lead him to interfere and save a human life and not the other? Playing a god’s role even though he is not one to consider himself as such. ❝ The first encounter was a one to remember as I was accused of staring because you were too grumpy to think otherwise. ❞ There is no bite to his words, he is actually almost laughing at the memory; they were really in a hot mess, along with their rightful suspicion of others with the TICKING BOMB in their mind at the time, begging to break free. ❝ The second was when you- ❞ No, he knows it’s not this one, not this voice. It was the gentler one, offering him what he actually did not need but appreciated the gesture behind nonetheless, even when his pride made it difficult, but he had to play the role too. ❝ -offered a sandwich. ❞ A DEBT in his eyes to be paid back, an act he has to return when the time and opportunity arrive. They did now. ❝ Now with this one, I paid the debt. ❞

Careful yet casual is the way he pulls the dagger out as not to alarm them further, bringing it to his vision, gaze admiring, maybe a little nostalgic, but then he rotates it in his hand to slide it back where it belongs. ❝ Could have given you this in a message of peace, but you wouldn’t convince me to trade it even for the world. ❞ No one shall lay a hand to it without his uttermost trust and permission, which never comes easy. ❝ Not to stray from our topic of my suspicious behavior, could’ve finished you right after this one. Hell, could’ve let him finish the job then took all the credit along with his life; less work. ❞ He pokes with his boots. ❝ So, no. I did not, nor do I now, plan on making an enemy out of you. ❞

A  disharmonious  trail  of  footsteps  some  soft  some  heavy  ,  rhythm  a  swinging  pendulum  between.  It  was  too  close  for  such  a  foley  .  Bullet  mere  seconds  away  from  them  and  the  jerks  so  outer  body.  Harvey  atones  to  instinct  ,  Two  Face  knows  it  was  a  matter  of  something  else  .  Something  foreign  .  An  invasive  jolt  from  somewhere  else,  someone  else  .

They  should  flee  ,  the  assassin’s  death  unbeknownst  to  them  ,  they  know  to  linger  long  would  be  fault  .  Still  they  remain  .  Two  Face  is  riled  up  from  multiple  provocations.  Someone  almost  out  this  conjoined  monstrosity  out  of  his  misery  ,  someone  else  reached  into  the  twisted  caverns  of  their  minds  .  And  was  liable  to  do  so  again  .  HAD  done  so  before  even  .  He  knew  it  somehow  .  Like  a  obnoxious  tune  in  their  head  ,  he  would  always  sense  a  breach  in  their  cerebral.

In  the  shrouded  darkness  of  the  crevices  here  of  night  silence  lends  them  no  answers  .  So  he  must  make the incision   his  way  through  the  thick  air  of  suspense  like  a  scalpel  and  find  the  corrupting  parasitic  neurone  or  the  ruthless  hand  that  attempted  to  end  the  second  life  of  a  man  turned  duplicitous  monster  .

It  comes  to  an  unexpected  fruition  .  Manifesting  in  one  ,  the  hunter  or  the  encroacher  which  is  which  is  hard  to  decipher  though  one  thing  is  for  certain  ;  one  issue  of  them  has  eliminated  the  other  . 

❝    seems  we  gots  company  .  I’d  -ah-  thank  you  but  I’m  not  sure  what  to  make  of  it  .  An’  I’m  wonderin’  if  yer  lookin’  pretty  familiar  right  now  .  Lotta  people  want  us  dead  .  Who  knows  maybe  yer  both  had  the  same  idea  jus’  figured  your  weren’t  sharin’. ❞

[stainedpast]

It is never dull to play tricks on humans, the tougher they are, the better. What else is he to do to entertain himself with through CENTURIES of age? A soul gets tired and bored, does it not? Even an unbreakable one like his. Theirs seems to be too, almost. Surviving through millions of hells, scarred, yes, but breathing still, despite every try life has thrown at them, not that he knows their stories, not yet, but the way they carry themself, the weight of their aura and soul, it says it all with no words.

They have noticed his— talent with magic, or so they put it. Now, he has to get an S to pass this test in the disguise of an interview. Saving humans, he doesn’t consider himself above it even if he makes it seem like it to the outsider eyes who know of his true identity, of the species he belongs to. Besides, it fills up his time, no harm in having fun while painting the perfect image of himself in the ignorant eyes. His blood is another subject, a sensitive one indeed; he has always drank an elixir of his own making to fool those who have demanded a test of it for them to think it human, an extra measure since his original is close enough for he is born of death that is not his own, unlike every other living vampire. Still, he doesn’t make it too easy for them, raising his own argument in the matter. ❝ Yeah, sure, you wanna make sure I’m not another alien in the shape of a human, you wanna trust me. ❞ There is an apparent ‘but’ in his pause, eyebrows rising a little. ❝ I need to trust you, too. ❞ Time shall prove them worthy or not, maybe even with the truth, his gut is neutral for now.

@bruz3r plotted starter

[stainedpast]

This would have been the perfect it’s me not you situation, but he refrains from utilizing it. Amber eyes watch as they get into their other form, the curious inquiry bringing a faint smile to his features; he definitely does not look it, perfectly blending with the humans, his powers hidden and quiet unless he decides to make them loud enough. ❝ The eyes. ❞ He gestures with his head, taking another bite of the apple in hand.

@catfcng cont from 🩸

[stainedpast]

Pfft. Why is there a comparison to begin with? Humans are INFERIOR to them. They are inferior to HIM. He doesn’t voice his opinion though. ❝ Everyone takes pride in having what others don’t, I guess. ❞ His words hold some truth in them, and he doesn’t make it sound like a persistent argument to their statement, only an opinion. ❝ That’s because you made a choice to be humble. ❞ They should not assume everyone else would do the same; humans are competitive and envious by nature, unless they make the effort not to be. His observation, at least.

A brow quirks up at his comment, a light roll of her gaze given in response. "Well, doesn't help that some act like because they got immortality, they're better than everyone else." a huff of a breath, hand rising to ruffle through her own dark tresses. "Hell, you don't see me going around acting like I'm better than any other hunter in existence."

[stainedpast]

Their reaction only makes it worse, getting out more laughter. Then they mention the SUN being an enemy of theirs, and he lets his face rest, not alarming them though. Sometimes, he forgets not every vampire can walk in daylight like him. Sad. ❝ It would be on your very sound judgement. ❞ The sarcasm is coated by humor; they would choose to burn instead of ripping the fabric to break free? Tsk tsk tsk. Regardless of their answer, he reaches for the stuck part of their cape, freeing it in a swift movement. ❝ There you go. ❞

Nandor could have tried to yank it out of the hinges, but he didn't want to accidentally rip it, not was only this his best cape, but it was at least a couple of hundred years old. -- "You want me to be nice, maybe you should stop laughing, because you wouldn't be laughing if you were in my situation, plus, it's also very rude." He pulled on the cape again, but nothing. "What if the sun comes out and I'm stuck here, you want my death to be on you?"

[stainedpast]

It is only natural for someone who has lived as long as he did to carry such a sentiment towards a youngling that thinks are already past being called as such. A sigh; he has to play the part anyway, so they are right. ❝ Yeah, yeah. The most alarming stage of their upbringing. ❞ He throws humorously, waving a little as if to dismiss their words. ❝ A mango flavor wrapped in a rainbow roll-up? ❞ His first teen-appropriate suggestion, or so he thinks. ❝ Or a baskin robbin’s banana-split? ❞ These don’t sound too bad even for their age— right?

₊🐜❜ ( @stainedpast said  〉

“ can i get her ice cream? ” -emrys (he’s respectful of the fatherhood like that)

"She's-" an amorous little chuckle escapes him at the sentiment, demeanor softening in appreciation in spite of the complete miss.

"She's one of those teens, you know, she might think you're babying her." he warns Emrys, shrugging thereafter to tack on, however, that: "you sure can try, though. Cassie appreciates a good scoop or two."

[stainedpast]

He is preoccupied with something else when they apologize, dragging his attention to them. Oh, the coffee, he almost forgot about it. He doesn’t make it obvious when his gaze studies them, not getting into their thoughts yet, but he could already guess it is a hungover. Humans, always downing liquor and drugs like they need it more than water and air all for the sake of a temporary numbness or euphoria. ❝ Yeah, that’s the name~ ❞ He taps on the counter as he confirms, taking the cup into hand before bringing closer to his nose, letting the aroma settle in, a habit if anything. ❝ Don’t worry about it, kiddo, but do be careful next time; you don’t know which temper you’re gonna run into. ❞ A wink before he takes the first sip of his coffee, satisfaction displayed in an agreeing hum.

@stainedpast ( issac / emrys )

"sorry, i think this is your coffee." it's almost a miracle that issac could keep track of whose drink was whose given how hungover he was, making him more eager to get his coffee so it could hopefully put his head at ease so he could get some work done. not for his job, but his own personal work that was stored on the laptop that he had in a bag that he carried on his shoulder. "emrys, right?" he asked, checking the name before looking at the other man whom he thought to be just a regular guy like him without knowing the full truth., "i didn't drink from it or anything. i just saw it wasn't mine."

[stainedpast]

Oh little did they know their fears are in place; he is LISTENING to their internal conflict, the voice in their head, a one that seems more fit to live in a world as this, in a city like this. Maybe it has spurred in a coping mechanism in the darkness of this place, of who knows what life they have had. He will fill in the blanks later, oh there is plenty of time for him, hopefully they will survive long enough as well.

For now, he listens. The urge to JOIN that conversation is a threatening one, but he ties his tongue and mind. He could join outrageously, speaking loud and clear in the human words, or he could creep into their mind, whisper into it, converse with WHOEVER in there, but there is the chance they might not take it, MELTING the flesh at worst or the fragile mind at best. He will be patient, for now.

He has a point, Harv~ I see right through the millions of masks you are wearing, I have already breached into your barricaded mind, and I have found him: Big Bad Harv

Don’t voice it, not yet.

Despite the laughter in his own mind, the JOY at their suffering, he is an Oscar-winner in the way he doesn’t let it reflect onto his features, his body language. Hands thrown into the air in fake surrender; they sure can try to have quite the night, he on the other hand, is actually having one so far. ❝ Sure, yeah. ❞ Hard jobs? Pfft. They might have one, but any job for him is not too hard anyway. Well, except when he has to LOWER himself to the humans’ level at times, how atrocious, humiliating.

He will let them be, for now; it supports his lies anyway when he acts uninterested as if he wasn’t really staring right into their SOUL a few moments ago.

Of  course  he  had  noticed  .  Paranoid  that  the  staring  was  caused  by  their  internal  conversation  some  how  slipping  through  the  diastema  of  their  teeth  .  They  didn't  like  anyone  eavesdropping  on  their  conversations  .  That's  why  they  tried  to  keep  them  in  their  head  . Likewise Harvey didn't want anyone to know the beloved Apollo of Gotham had rot inside of him . A secret he's kept out of the public eye , thank God . He worked so hard to do so . Lately he's been having trouble with HIM again .

Perhaps  this  guys  just  got  some  kind  of  staring  problem  ,  he  knows  they  are  gruesome  and  for  that  they  stick  out  as  an  eyesore  among  the  crowd  .

Why  worried he sees right through ya , Harv ?

Harvey  merely  scorns  ,  able  to  ignore  the  niggling�� voice  at  the  back  of  his  head  for  now  . 

❝  Yeah  ,  well  ,  I'm  just  trying  to  have  a  quiet  night  for  once  . ❞  Yeah  ,  real  quiet  in  here  .  ❝  Fuck  up  .  ❞ 

 Damn  you .  See  what  I  mean  . You always try'na hide from people , Harv , it's gettin' real sad why keep this up ?

A  small  gasp  of  air  and  a  grimace  not  meant  for  Emrys  .  He's  a  mess  he  can't  keep  tabs  on  what  are  thoughts  or  spoken  words  and  feeling  exposed  either  way  . ❝  Lets just say you were daydreaming and move on with our lives , alright ? Sure we both work hard enough jobs , this was a ... misunderstanding .   ❞  And with that he tries to tail himself out of there discomfort of the situation , entirely .

[stainedpast]

Everything is calculated with him, huh? The trespassing of their home, too? Who knows. He treads lightly, not very intentionally stealthy, but it is a second nature to him by now, like a PREDATOR hunting for food. He feigns surprise by their reaction and the gun pointed at him, hands thrown in the air in surrender and peace offering instantly. ❝ Sorry! Didn’t know it was occupied! ❞ He is looking for shelter too, homeless. His situation though is a one by choice, an act in the theater that is this WORLD.

@stainedpast ( lyra / emrys )

she had just gotten back from scavenging to her makeshift home that was really just an abandoned house that she fixed up herself to be secure enough for her to live in. it worked for the most part except for the rare times when she'd have to chase someone away and make it clear that this wasn't an available home. all was thankfully quiet as she pulled her jacket off and tossed her bag onto the table, setting her gun down before hearing the floorboards creak which made her turn with the gun now pointed at a man who somehow got inside. "what are you doing here?"

[stainedpast]

Why do humans have to be so DRAMATIC? Ugh. Maybe it is just his dislike of them that makes him so JUDGMENTAL at times. ❝ Can’t help any when you’re knocked out, but if you say so. ❞ A shrug of his shoulders and a momentarily throw of his hands in the air in a fake surrender are displayed.

a brow quirks up at his words, her own heavy breath escaping her at finding truth behind his words. Rest was important for anyone within any occupation, but sometimes obtaining such rest was simply stated than it was to obtain. A hand rises to rake through her own dark tresses, emerald gaze shifting to properly rest on him. "As correct as you are, there's not exactly any rest for everyone - can't help the most when I'm sleeping."

[stainedpast]

There is something to them, something ANCIENT, powerful despite the calm reflective on their demeanor. They are not pure, yet they don’t lack light, unlike him, a harvester of NOIR. There is an aura of magic around them, and with his current state, he doesn’t seem capable of intruding on their thoughts. Who are they? What are they? Questions will be answered, oh they definitely will, but for now, he will quietly observe.

Despite the BLOOD splattered on the ground, his primary source of energy and satisfaction for hunger, he smells theirs, deep within their vessels, he smells them: sweet, floral, yet ravenous, bloody. Despite every other presence, let it be alive or soulless, he feels theirs: alluring, soft, yet dangerous and alarming. Oh how long since he has felt something as POWERFUL as this? The allure of the idea is DANGER in itself; oh how tempting, pulling that is.

Their question is ignored along the rest of their words, lost to his own DEMAND of knowledge; his curiosity must be fed. ❝ Who are you? ❞ What are they? The dagger is slowly slid back into place as he stands, a gesture of peace and understanding of their lack of harmful intentions for now. ❝ You’re holding back! ❞ A less humiliating way of admitting their prowess, their ability to have inflected more damage upon him. ❝ Why? ❞ Too many questions, but he wants them, he needs them.

　　 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐝𝐨𝐳𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐫 ; 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬. soon enough, however, it becomes obvious that not even their soothing fragrances may be capable of easing the thunderous tempest that rages within his ribcage: it takes him but a moment to enlarge the distance between them, rewarding the oh so tender touches of her soft finger pads with the glimpse of a dagger ( if he only knew ! that nature never yields to the threats of steel and bone ) .

and thus ahri leans back against her own cushions, doll - like lineaments mold into an expressionism hewn out of dulcet mischief and blithe amusement. is it not foolish, to believe that she would have patiently waited for him to eventually rouse from his deep and intimate dreams, had her heart been ravenous for blood and carnage ? a girlish titter bubbles forth. ❝ nice reflexes ! i'm surprised. ❞ the she - fox does not exorcise the ghost of impish laughter from her vocalization: between one soft syllable and the other, is the shameless echo of taunting purrs. ❝ did you have pleasant dreams ? ❞

[stainedpast]

Their internal conflict is not known to him for he is already out of their territory, their mind free of his grasp; no further need, they can drag their feet and run, he has bought them enough time, he supposes. The confusion is shared with the sniper; they can’t fathom any reasoning as to why their PREY would be able to dodge the bullet, how would one be able to foresee its track as it proceeds forward with such tremendous speed? Even if they happen to have blown the cover long ago, why the theatrics, and how would they manage the timing? Impossible!

Almost nothing is when he is involved.

It is a failed mission, the sniper will have to either find a new spot, tail them or abandon the mission and try again later, their bosses won’t be happy with this. He, on the other hand, doesn’t get to complete the victory nor celebrate it when the ache in his head hits, the ringing in his ears feels like an IMMINENT EXPLOSION, blood seeps from his nostril, slow at first but heavy in a moment. A finger reaches for the maroon liquid, sampling it under his blurry vision for a moment: epistaxis? Really now? ❝ Fuck! ❞ He is interrupted with another attack of pressure and agony in his head, he almost falls to his knees but manages to drag his body to an alley, that’s when his body succumbs to the ground below, torn apart from the inside. Maybe he shouldn’t have forced it like that. Nah, he will manage, he always does. He allows himself to rest, his back slides against the wall behind, knees bent and arms resting atop them, but then they disturb his already short-lived peace. Of all the other places, why would they choose his spot? The childish reasoning kicks in his mind, and before he is able to allow any of it out, his peripheral vision catches a glimpse of a dark cloak: the sniper, right on top of them, of him too. He seizes the chance for an excuse to get rid of the threat, to help them without blowing the false facade of not doing so, masked by helping himself. Invisible to the outsiders’ eyes is the way he pulls his dagger out, swiftly throwing it at the danger above. He purposefully lets it be coated with imperfection(not a hard job with the current state of his body), the weapon buries deep into their chest, forcing their arm to change the direction their aim was at and so of the bullet’s, penetrating the wall instead, again. It all happens so quickly, their rifle is the first to fall before their body does too, losing their balance is their demise, their consciousness a following consequence, they were ALIVE as they descended to the ground. The likelihood of their survival is minimal at best, yet he inspects the body, checks for signs of life: none. His hand reaches for the dagger now embedded further into their chest, he plucks it out. ❝ Thanks for returning this. ❞ The blade is cleaned of their blood when he wipes it twice each side against their garments. Cruel, he might seem, but so were their attacker.

It hits again.

The balance is lost, but he manages to stab the blade into the ground to prevent his fall, BLOOD is splattered on the ground below his face, his muscles threatening to give up and make his features submerge in his own blood.

It subsides, like a switch flicked on and off. He rolls onto his back, hand still gripping the dagger as he breathes out into ease, the fabric of his attire soiled with his own blood, remnants of it on the lower part of his face. ❝ That was close. ❞ A statement carrying multiple meanings to him, but probably singular to them.

◖@stainedpast /𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒  he never forgets an act of kindness, selflessness, whether it be by his self-appointed nemesis: the humans, or his own kind. he might have not needed their gesture at the time, but it showed him the kind of person they are. he might act all hateful and despising of their species, but he is the one to make his kind able to blend in with them, to look like a human, think like one, act like it; he could be humanity’s demise and destroyer, but he can also be their savior, their aid and voice to the other party, his own. today is not his day; most of his powers lie dormant deep within him. it seems this day is not theirs either; his gaze catches the reflection of a sniper’s rifle, its aim is quickly determined: their head. there is no time to warn or reach them for a push, too risky anyway, and so he locks his eyes with theirs since the alternative of practicing this on the sniper has less chances of success, he puts everything in him during this disadvantageous state so he could control their mind(s), forcing them to move away from the route of the bullet, exposing the sniper and the failure of their assassination orders. —emrys @ whoever u want

⚖ - unprompted / ACCEPTING.  彡

People  want  them  dead  .  Always  have  ,  always  will  .  Dent  for  his  ground-breaking  sweep  in  getting  Gotham's  least  desirable  individuals  locked-up  .  The  long  year  when  he  became  a  suspect  to  murder  .  And  now  ,  a  crime  boss  in  of  themself  .  Everyone  had  pieces  of  this  Janus  they  wanted  to  chip  away  .  Still  they  didn't  see  the  sniper's  pellet  shot  up  towards  them  .  Somebody  must've  because  while  the  dominant  two  personalities  remained  unbeknownst  their  body  jerks  out  of  the  way  ,  only  seeing  the  slug  hit  a  crate  behind  them  on  the  mainline  dock  mere  seconds  after  the  involuntary  response.

The  body  flails  in  a  matter  of  regaining  the  feeling  in  their  limbs  ,  they  swerve  around  the  corner  ,  creating  distance  between  them  and  the  hitman  ,  no  longer  in  the  sights  of  the  rifle  set  on  them  .  There  long  coat  is  the  last  thing  to  soar  en-suit  of  them  .  They  have  only  a  matter  of  seconds  to  access  the  situation  before  they  would  need  to  move  on  .  Get  the  hell  out  of  here  .

Who  wuz  that  ?  !  Sure  as  fuck  wasn't  me  or  Harv  so  I'm  wonderin'  who  else  is  in  this  head  ?  Judge  ?  Hah  ,  nah  .  I'd  know  if  he  craned  his  face  in  'ere  .

Wouldn't  be  the  first  time  and  won't  be  the  last  someone  wanted  to  get  in  here  .  Whoever  it  was  they  saved  us  .  God  only  knows  why  .

No  time  for  yer  pitiful  lament  ,  Dent  ,  move  yer  ass  or  the  next  slugs'  ain't  gonna  miss  .

[stainedpast]

Dancing with death. How ironic for to many, he is DEATH in a conning veil. Maybe it is why their magical allure does not work on him the way it does on the rest, aside from being superior to humans and the like. It is a rarity to be caught so helpless, lying down at the MERCY of his captor’s decision whether to rid the world of him -or at least try to- or keep observing. Lucky enough, he is spared for their curiosity wins the battle.

In his dream, he is lying on the grass, his head resting against the comfort of his wife’s lap, lids draped down and a small smile tugged on his features. Above him is the face of the most beautiful woman to ever exist, their bright, soft smile gracing their features. He can see it without even opening his eyes.

But then he does, and oh he wishes he never did. His lids flutter a little, bringing him back to the reality his unconsciousness has stole him from, getting a better image of the face above—- it’s not them! It’s not Areti! That’s when he’s reminded of reality, of the present. Quick and tactful, he rolls away before immediately turning on his legs, a hand further supporting his balance, the other getting his dagger out, ready to attack or defend. Had they wanted to kill him, they would have attempted already, he knows, but he can’t be too careful in such a scenario, can he?

　𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐳 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. it has never been arduous to bend the will of pathetic men to her desires, their souls naught but an alluring feast 'pon which to greedily gorge herself: a flutter of lashes, a sway of curvaceous hips, a glimpse of porcelain - white skin [ ... ] and they all forget about the gods revered through wooden crosses and 'pon altars of marble. he, however, is a special case ▬▬ he does not surrender to his desires and instead, fights against his urges with such a stubborn fervor that his consciousness soon leaves him.

almost a whole hour has passed. the room is now quiet, the other dancers have left with their respective clients already and only they remain, seated amidst cushions of velvet and half - drunk bottles of exquisite red wine. his head is resting 'pon her lap, a claw - tipped hand brushes his hair back once he begins to stir. 'pon the plushness of heart - shaped tiers, is a mischievous albeit dulcet smile. ❝ it took you quite a long time to awaken, sleeping beauty. ❞

[stainedpast]

❝ Come on, you can’t deny it’s amusing. ❞ He lets another chuckle to punctuate his words before he stands by it, an arm’s length to reach but doesn’t release it. ❝ Maybe if you ask nicely? ❞ He is a fellow vampire, not a soldier.

{ @stainedpast ;; sc. ↳ emrys

"Why are you laughing? this is a very serious situation." He said as he tried to pull his cape from the hinges where it had gotten stuck. "Well, help then! don't just stand there."