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& THE HORNED ONE // @hvbris

If this man did indeed wish him harm, Zachariah was satisfied that he would have done it by now. The stranger didn't seem like a hitman, or a gangster. Definitely not law enforcement. No...he was a businessman. He spoke like one, carried himself like one.

And if there was one thing Zachariah could handle, it was a man with a business offer, no matter how unorthodox his introduction.

"There's no fair or unfair in life. Or death, for that matter." He replied stiffly, still on guard despite his decision to do as the other man said. After a moment of contemplation, Zachariah decided to place the scalpel on the nearby bookshelf. Still within reach, should he need it.

Though there was a suitably sharp fountain pen in his inner jacket pocket, too. The fact that he'd been told to put down his weapon in the first place wasn't too eyebrow raising- a magicians trick, coupled with intuition, experience. Easy enough to explain away how the other knew it was in his hands.

Logic was an old friend. Even so, Zachariah focused to steady his heartbeat. He was still nervous about the others intentions, after all. Stupid not to be. But if he did need to take action, it would be easier without that drumming in his ears.

"You're not the first person to threaten me. But seeing as you're so eager to talk instead...what is it you want, hm?"

𝐙𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐇 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 @uselessdevice

"Ah, but life is unfair, Zachariah," He nonchalantly hummed, shaking His head, "you, of all people, should know. After all, you spend all your days working with the dead. Taking advantage of the unfairness of life. You've even made a business out of it."

He stopped abruptly in His tracks, turning His head slowly to look at Zachariah. He was smiling. "This scalpel won't help you, I'm afraid. You would die before you could even vaguely wave it in My direction. It would be a rather painful death, too. I do not take kindly to people who try to disrespect Me."

"This will be My only warning," He then pointed out, before opening the door and walking inside the main office. It was clear from His tone that He was doing this man a rare favour. "Now, why you don't stop this nonsense, and follow Me so we can discuss more interesting matters?"

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@hvbris // & CASSANDRA

"Mmhm, he's been helping me for a few years now. And they've never been better controlled since he took the reins. That's real nice though, having the same doctor for so long! He must know you super well. It makes hospital visits a little less stressful, consistency like that."

Cassandra had still clearly been stressed by her appointment, but how much worse would it be if she had to see a different doctor every time? Even with a chronic illness, people could change careers, move away, retire...knowing that Doctor Soliman was there was a relief.

That certainly hadn't been the answer Leah was expecting about work, but she was impressed. A real life FBI agent? And here she was, sitting in her car!

"That must be pretty hard on you. But it's important work you do, I think that's so great- me, I just teach kids how to wave a brush around." Leah explained with a chuckle. "Hardly changing the world."

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐇 & 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀 @uselessdevice

Cassandra started driving away from the parking lot, shooting a polite smile to her passenger. "Nice to meet you, Leah." They had chatted briefly at the hospital, but it had hardly been a proper introduction.

"Yes, he's been my doctor since I was 18," she chuckled, shaking her head dismissively. "Dr. Soliman is great. He's been a lot of help, especially when I was younger." She shot Leah a quick look. "Does he help you with your episodes? If you don't mind me asking."

"I work for the FBI. The Violent Crimes Against Children Division." It was not usually the best ice breaker with strangers, so she quickly asked instead: "What do you do for work?"

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🦋

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PSA for Rufus- his paranormal verse is now his main verse and I've updated his bio to reflect this. Doesn't have to affect any threads already ongoing with him, but just a heads up.

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@hvbris // & THE HORNED ONE

Zachariah didn't speak. He listened, studying the stranger with furrowed brows. Maybe it was the unexpected intrusion putting him on edge, but something about the way this man spoke made the fine hairs on his arms and neck stand to attention. A cold prickle spreading over his skin.

Warning. He didn't like that tone, that insinuation that he knew what Zachariah's business was all about. It was blackmail, then. Had to be. No law enforcement would ever introduce themselves this way, barge into his place of work after hours.

A man who'd never quite grasped the emotions that came so easily to everybody else, the mortician had spent years of his life studying faces, reading them, trying to emulate what they were showing. He didn't like the way this stranger smiled.

While his gaze remained firmly on the others retreating back, he reached slowly and silently for the nearby cabinet. It was unlocked, having not done his final meticulous checks for the night. He withdrew a fresh scalpel, taking it from the protective wrapping with a coolness that did come easily to him. He clasped his hands behind his back as he followed to the office, lingering in the doorway where the man had already made himself at home.

"If you know me by name, it's only fair I know yours." He spoke finally, readying himself for any neccessary action he had to take. A coiled snake hidden beneath the calm exterior of a professional.

𝐙𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐇 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 @uselessdevice

The Horned One raised His eyebrows with amusement. "Is it?" He asked, nonchalantly strolling about the mortuary as if He owned it. "The door was open." It wasn't, of course. It was locked. But locked doors could not keep Him out. Nothing could keep Him out.

He finally turned toward the man to look at him, granting him a little bit of His attention. "I would love to make arrangements, Zachariah," He hummed with a smile that did not quite reach His eyes. He had used the man's name very casually.

"I'm a big fan of your work. I'm not easily impressed, you know. But you are something of a visionary." The praise was spoken with an unctuous voice, and yet it sounded more condescending than sincere. Almost like a father complimenting the clumsy drawings of a toddler.

With that, He walked toward the main office, without waiting for the mortician to show Him the way. He knew the way. "You're right, this is a new opportunity," He then answered to the man's thoughts, very casual about the fact that He could hear them, "But I am not a client at all, Zachariah."

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i need to stand ankle deep in a creek about this

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@hvbris // & CLOVE

Clover cackled at that image, shaking her head. The districts had such funny little rituals! But she loved learning about them, especially the more thrilling and barbaric tidbits. Oh people in the Capitol would love this one for sure.

"Now that's commitment! Well, when you do get down to your little wedding battle, know I'll be rooting for you all the way, huh?" She replied, letting the members of her team pack away the cameras and the lights, dismantling their presence here so they could leave just as swiftly as they'd arrived.

But Clover wasn't ready to leave, not yet. She never was.

"Why don't you take me on a little walk through the village here? Tell me all about it."

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 & 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 @uselessdevice

Clove knew this dance by heart. She knew how to smile, and wave, and be "herself" in a way that was still fun to the citizens of the Capitol. Biting, but palatable.

Frankly, she really thought she was going to be a lot happier about all this. She only felt frustrated, like a cornered animal. Violence kept boiling under her skin. A phantom limb. She wasn't supposed to be bloodthirsty anymore. But they had made her into a weapon, how was she supposed to be anything else now?

When the cameras shut down, she felt her shoulders relaxing. Now, she could have a little bit more fun. Scare that interviewer chick, perhaps. Just enough that it still looked in good fun. It was what the good people of the Capitol liked, wasn't it? Edgy, sarcastic Clove.

"Yeah," she grinned, "in Disctrict 2, the bride and groom fight before the wedding. It's very violent."

The truth was, it was more for show than anything else. The bride, usually more than happy to marry her groom, didn't put up that much of a fight. It was a beloved tradition, though, and she was excited to do it with Cato.

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STARTER for @mettleborn // & HANNIBAL

It had been an uncomfortable start. Grating, in fact. All around her, men seemed to decide the direction of her new life, and then Saros was landed with one for therapy too. A man trying to pick around in her brain. How her mother would rage at the thought of that.

But mother was locked away in the depths of the BSHCI. And as of yet, Saros had been given no opportunity to visit. It was deemed 'inappropriate', potentially dangerous for her poor traumatised mind. Ugh.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter had admittedly been a surprise, however. Attentive. Encouraging her to truly speak her mind, though Saros resisted this for all of their early sessions. She simply played the part she knew she had to, trying to appease his questions. Then one day he'd outright accused her of doing so, though he showed no anger. Not even irritation. Intrigued was the word she'd use, always intrigued. Studying her in a way that seemed different to other men.

Saros was a hunter of predators. She took her work seriously, especially as she was the only one of her family left out in the world to carry the burden. Some of her sisters, her aunts, had died at the hands of the FBI. Others were sent away, and she didn't know where. They'd been torn apart. For their 'own good'. She had to do this. It was important. It was her calling.

Dr Lecter couldn't get in the way of that. However, in time, it seemed as though that was the least of his intentions...

Her lack of trust ran deep. But gradually, little by little, she'd divulged her bloodthirsty desires. And he seemed not to steer her away from them, but to explore them further. Further than a pyschiatrist was perhaps meant to.

"First thing I ever killed was a chicken. I was seven. Most kids have never killed anything beyond a bug. Y'know, an ant or a spider, somethin' like that."

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STARTER for @hatigave // & WILLEM

A tiny city meant an equally tiny police department. And that was what led to Rufus taking a good old road trip down to Houston, and then beyond to Jamaica Beach. When it came to cold cases, these smaller departments didn't like to linger on them. Sure, they weren't as heavily loaded with work as larger cities were, but they liked to prioritise their working hours on cases that were actually solvable, in their view.

Too many times a death had been filed away as a suicide, an accident, when the family absolutely disagreed. But with nothing else to go on, their loved ones fate was shoved onto a dusty shelf in a back room, locked away and never given another thought.

That was where Rufus stepped in. That was where a private detective could make all the difference in the world, picking up the pieces when traditional law enforcement were stumped or stubborn.

Right now though, he was taking a break. Wandering the shoreline and letting his thoughts percolate. Something about the steady white noise of the sea helped with that, watching the lapping waves slowly draw further away with the tide. Natural debris littered the beach. Clumps of seaweed. Sticks, stones, nothing pretty, but as he meandered along, Rufus saw some pieces of wood that looked unusually pristine.

"Huh."

He crouched down, examining the damp wood before reaching out to take a piece and examine it. But he didn't get that far. The moment his fingers touched the cool surface, Rufus felt his mind shift, a dizziness that vaulted into dissociation. He saw rough seas, felt the biting wind of a storm. Shouts came to his ears, snippets of conversation in Dutch that confused him when he began to come back to himself. He felt nausea grip him as tightly as his hand gripped the driftwood, nausea and- for a moment- deep sadness.

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The Quirang, Isle of Skye

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@hvbris // & ISAAC

Her hand was still trapped under his, but her thumb had enough room to brush back and forth against his thigh. She'd never had a date like this before. He really was something else.

A chuckle escaped her, brushing her lips against his.

"Depends what you're tellin' me to do." She replied, batting her lashes playfully. "And how you say it."

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐇 & 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐀𝐂 @uselessdevice

"Yes, I do," he confirmed, seeing no point in trying to deny it. She could see it for herself very clearly. "Call it a professional quirk." His smile widened, with a sort of darkness to it that would surely elude sweet, soft Leah. After all, she did not know that he was much more than a doctor.

"You seem to be enjoying it, that's true," he hummed knowingly. "Do you like being told what to do, Miss Woods?" His tone was playful as she pressed a kiss against his temple, but his hand squeezed hers just a little bit tighter.

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Going forward on this blog, I'd really appreciate honesty from my writing partners.

If you don't like a plot suggestion I make, please decline politely.

If you don't want to write with a muse I suggest to you, please tell me.

I'd much rather get a polite no than a half hearted, kinda sorta thread which you're not into.

And on that note, if we have a thread currently that you don't want to continue, feel free to drop it.

Thanks.