#raftagii

[jessource]

I don’t know but have you heard of this user jessources? So talented and so wonderful to the rp community . Just amazing !

this is genuinely so sweet and wholesome what the heck😭🤍 thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to send me this, i appreciate it :')

[absensia]

" What, like falling asleep? Going gentle into the good night or whatever it is? " She quirked a brow, meaning to be playful, but there was the unmistakable buzz of honesty rioting beneath her words. She, chaos' agent, was keen on starting a bit of strife. No matter how small or seemingly a trifle, a difference of opinion made for fertile fighting grounds. The vessel glanced down at the dark surface of her coffee, amused at how the level of it how somehow stopped changing despite the constant sips she'd been taking. In the shadowy mirror, she caught the gleam in her own eye, that mischief a familiar sight even to the agent herself. Pink tongue poked out and wetted her lips as she set the cup down with a soft clatter.

" I'm not sayin' that that can't happen, but. . . I can't really see the lot of us, people, I mean, if the end came slowly enough for it be comfortable, then we'd see it coming and if we could see it coming. . . I just don't think most people would just slip away willingly, is all. "

Yet even as the words left her mouth, it occurred to the agent that she could very well be in the minority here. Indeed, it suddenly dawned on her that there were likely a considerable number of people who would be relieved to see death coming their way, promising not a painful and frenzied end, but a simple quietening. No muss, no fuss. But in that moment, faced with this stranger with her strange questions and her strange philosophies, when this vessel could not recall for itself when, how, and where it had come to be here, she couldn't accept it. She just couldn't abide the idea of the end as a saving grace. She blinked and thought carefully. " London's nice. I hear. Never been. Are you. . . here on vacation? Work? "

THERE IS A SENSE OF DISCONNECT BETWEEN THEM. - SHE DID NOT FIT IN THIS WORLD AND THE OTHER HAD A SELF PROTECTED BY A FOUNDATION OF DISBELIEF. and so she decides to stay tempered . to see and not feel all the hands of judgment and thus to open the horror slowly as to NOT SEND THE OTHER INTO FRIGHT. fact was that it was not poetics she was interested in but that was how she was made. she was death and it must be sweet lest it be misunderstood. . she presses on the joints of her fingers - cracking the bone. an awful sound for a distraction - but she needed to feel this body and the space around them.

" why must the world END WITH A BANG ? can it not be a comfortable end and just slip us away ? death or ends however you may see it is not a monstrous thing. sometimes it can be a saving grace. "

she has always thought of herself in two ways - transformation and karma . THE TWO HEADED BLADE OF THE ARCHANGEL ISRAFIL. a kind gesture bundle in the snake's mouth waiting to bite if need come. " an end is a simple thing , it counts your blessings and deals you what you need or deserve. why do we only see it as fire ?" there is a small ping of pain / an arrow through her heart at the way she was kept . and though her lips pull soft words and a smile , she feels a tad bit uncomfortable . " and to answer your second question i am from london."

[absensia]

The woman laughed and so, she smiled in return. Frankly, she didn't know what else to do for everything around her was suddenly dissipating like spun - sugar in water. A stillness had come to settle on the space, a quiet that would've been peaceful if it weren't for the funny feeling that the silence was somehow imposed; a body placed into a grave, then buried. The dense dirt packed and the world to move on. She raised her mug of coffee up to her lips and took a slow, delicious sip. Well, this ought to be good, thought the vessel.

" Yeah, " she laughed. " It was real good. So good, actually, I think I might still be dreaming. "

The light coming into the café took on an odd, ephemeral quality. It was headache - inducing, or could be. . . if one were to immerse oneself in it long enough; it reminded the vessel of days when the sky was blanketed not in dark storm clouds nor fluffy white clouds, but rather, those strange, barely - there sort of clouds that spun sunlight into a kind of false glare. All the world's a stage and that spotlight above could never give rise to true¹ life. Over the rim of her cup, all she could do was watch this woman with open curiosity, not a hint of her inner confusion to show on her face. Neither did panic have any place here. ( It never did. Not with this particular pawn. ) She gave another laugh, soft and appreciative. " Time herself, right. That's very poetic, but yeah. I'm sure the end of the world would've come with a lot more. . . I don't know, bang and bustle? [ A happy chuckle, here. ] You said you're not of this place. Where are you from? If you don't mind me asking. "

¹ See also: Authentic.

LAUGHTER CURLS OFF HER TONGUE  and wafts  about like smoke.  an unbodied  declaration of a self held together by a staunch  belief in gentleness.  here she is,  the horrid face of the end - death made to order. a pock mark on man,  and so her thoughts had drifted to believe that this stillness was an error of her.  but with this other - the weight started to hold different  answers. “ i guess you’re right . yet,  i am not a person of this place and so i am quite certain i would not have gotten the message. “  she picks at her food - a fry here and a bite of her burger there.   AND YET HER EYES STAY ON THE OTHER ,  attempting to shell her character.   “ was it a good sleep  though ? maybe that's what saved you from whatever worked itself over this town.”

she is an unknown within  an unknown.  - a russian doll with an inside so small it cannot be seen.  and so she play acts - holding herself to more human-like qualities. eyes dulling from gold to slate - with her body wiring over its scales.  WHAT SHE NEEDS IS TO  NOT BE PERCEIVED - TO LIVE AS THOUGH SHE WERE NOTHING. “and  i wonder if time herself got annoyed  by all of us . “  she laughs , it's  small and kept close to the chest.  as though if it had weight it would make between them something too odd to hold. “ surely the world isn’t coming to an end as we sit here.”  she would have known  , if it were not for the small fact that the deity and her had made a pact of not giving each other the answers to what fate had called out of them . .  where she ended lives he ended world and for that she had no understanding of what was going on. 

[absensia]

There was some missing link. The vessel blinked and could not remember how she'd gotten here, to be sitting in the coldest seat of the otherwise empty café, a chill radiating from the window - glass, the large mug of coffee in her hand doing very little to warm her body. Did she know this person suddenly speaking to her? Did it matter? another voice asked, its tone toeing the line between bored and jaded.

LIKE A CARELESS FARMER WHO DID NOT ALWAYS REALIZE HOW LITTLE HAS GROWN OR HOW SLOWLY LIFE CAN TAKE TO BLOOM, THERE DID COME SMALL POCKETS OF TIME WHEN THE VOID'S AGENT DID, IN FACT, LOSE COUNT AND WAS MET WITH A TOTAL AND COMPLETE NOTHINGNESS. BY AND BY, IN THE MIDST OF ALL THE FUN AND CARNAGE, THE NUMBER WINNOW DOWN TO ZERO, INCLUDING HER, AND SHE IS LEFT TO BE LESS THAN ALONE. SHE WAS LEFT TO WAIT FOR A NEW NAME.

" Not that I know of, " was her reply. It was obvious, wasn't it? Of course, the ignorant would still remain while everyone else was. . . what? Safe? Asleep? Dead and gone? As soon as the woman had been served her food, the café had quieted down to a swift silence; the ghosts had finished their shift. " Doesn't mean there wasn't one, " the blonde continued, sipping at her coffee and nodding at the empty seat across from her. She tapped an idle index finger against the cover of her paperback book, never mind that she couldn't quite make out the title on it. The silence swelled again and it reminded her: she was a talker. " I did sleep in this morning, though, so really. If the Judgement Day trumpets did sound, I most likely missed them. Definitely missed them. But so did you. "

DEATH TURNS TO TAKE  - TO PLACE A COLD HAND THROUGH RIBS TO CATCH THE HEART . reading  the last breaths of some man to see who to give his soul to .  sylvia is a mirror - an open space of memories .  a touch of warmth oft seen as anything but.   tasked to bring the end of things - yet without one for herself .  and so she is fatigued  - MISMANAGED BY THE WAY THIS PLACE FOUND HER OUT .   feeling as though it were out to catch her,  to lay her bare  and then eat all what she had .   she was taking the last moments of another man -  a tally of six in a span of four days.   all bearing  neon  around their throats , as though they’d been caught in some dirty escapade .   she holds them - counts their whimpering before giving them off to her right-hand .      BE GENTLE WITH THEM CONSEQUENCE   for i am not sure they did what they did out of their own sense of mind.  such a prayer is not oft made , but if she were kind , consequence was the rage she was too afraid to step into.

she lets go of the man -  giving him a chrysanthemum  so that he may be found ,  and she rises making herself ready to go find whatever it was that was so intoxicated by ruin , they did not consider the pain.  she walks around trying to find some trace only to need some substance before this mortal body of her’s broke itself.  for which she lingers about  to find a lone cafe -  and within it a solitary woman  busied by something or another -  SHE DOES NOT TAKE INTEREST in until she has food for herself . 𖥔𓈒           ───   “    IT’S A COLD DAY - with no one around - did i miss the memo or something ? . @absensia "