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uhhh thanks! next time you can just discord message me bud, save me some anxiety lol
I don't think I was told that lolol. that's okay.I'm the no discord person remember? xD
I don't think I was told that lolol. that's okay.
T___TWell now that I have found a way to access it on mobile without an app, I pop in once in a blue moon But most of the time, it's just me here, alone... Waltzing through the empty halls of this OOC with ze ghosts of ages past~
You're all good
[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/k-etEpSkeeg/maxresdefault.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; background-attachment: fixed; padding:30px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:20px; color: #1d1b15; flex: 1; border: 2px solid #243381; outline: 2px solid #000; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; font-size:13px; [/class] [class=speaks] overflow: auto; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 20px; flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speakstoo] font-size:13px; text-align: left; font-weight:100; background-color: #fff; color: #000; line-height:2; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; padding:30px; max-height:1300px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x:hidden; [/class] [class=speakeasy] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #fff; outline: 2px solid #000; box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #fff; background:#000;[/class] [class=bottoms] font-weight:400; margin-top: 50px; clear:both; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #fff; outline: 2px solid #000; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; color: #fff; background:#000; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=tops] font-weight:400; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 50px; clear:both; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #fff; outline: 2px solid #000; box-sizing: border-box; text-align: center; padding:20px; color: #fff; background:#000; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=speakeasy2] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #fff; outline: 2px solid #000; box-sizing: border-box; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #fff; background:#000; line-height:2; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=bottoms maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [class name=tops maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]
𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — East Oak Veterinary Hospital, Vineland, New Jersey > Hell
TAGS: BELIAL. (Light My Way), Dear Mrs. Psycho (And Bring The Flamed Candles), Chise_Robin_ (Because I've Lost My Way), Hell0NHighWater (And I'm Not Sure How To Return)
BGM — FLORENCE & THE MACHINE - NO LIGHT NO LIGHT
[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks][div class=tops]There is an ocean of silence between us… and I am drowning in it. [/div][div class=speakstoo]
They entered the kennel area, their friends and other strangers he knew did not deserve this treatment rallied and holed up like literal dogs. Penny dove for Alaska's cage first, Nik's eyes were wide as he rushed to jam the butt-end of one of his blades, repeatedly, into another cage's lock. It cracked with enough force, he was brutal, and didn't want to waste time.
Nor did he want to linger here, because the blood in the air might as well have been heroin, and if he stayed too long he'd want another hit.
“Oh, thank god, you guys are alright? Well, god, as alright as you can be?”
"We'll hug it out later, let's get the fuck out of here before we overstay our welcome anymore than we already have," he said with a quick wink in Alaska's direction, fiddling to help break free the others, ripping away chains. He tried to mute his expression because he felt like the longer they were here, the worse it would be, and there was no time to be teary eyed and bear-hug everyone—strangers included. Which he did very much want to do.
Always at a dichotomy, he was a monster and a mess, but perhaps a lovely monster indeed. Covered in blood and viscera, he wasn't sure that'd be appreciated either. Looking like a bloody wild-man with his blond hair torn up into a tornado, he was probably not the first person you'd want to leap towards and grasp in friendship.
“Nik… Nik, I don’t see Rhys. I don’t see—" His stomach bottomed out, and grew stark and acid-sick, but the eternal optimism that often ran a parallel path to his eternal suffering piped up. It spared his gut that pain, and he shook his head. That is, until Alaska spoke.
''They took him,'' his favorite state wouldn't meet his gaze, and she was still sequestered, why? He thought he knew the answer. There he was, always making himself a monster of his own creation within his mind, so that he didn't need to entertain logic.
His lips parted slightly, he was inert, mouth dryer than the hellfire scorched asphalt of New York, on that day...
"Where—"
A shot rang out before he had time to think or act, Penny was on the ground. Blood pooled from her thigh, and Nik turned quickly with his blades ready. He still had plenty of fight in him, possibly more fight than was appreciated, because he wanted it like a glutton wanted every piece of meat on the buffet table, all at once, in his greedy grasp and wanting mouth. He would devour everything if given the chance.
He hated it, hated himself.
Loved it, wanted it, always.
The other part of him, the very real human man, writhed in his skin. His greater angels keened his muscles, bade them still. Still, and then fly, to follow like a bird on a trail of breadcrumbs perhaps, spread black crow's wings extending over the air currents, to tilt, and find the shining glimmer it sought.
From the corner of the eye, that spark of bright blue stone. Always, he needed it.
A far smarter creature stood in the doorway, leering at them, presence imposing, gun quite literally smoking. Asshole, the blond thought through grit teeth but kept his barbed words behind his razor-sharp smile.
"Penny, are you—" Nik had started, moving slowly and making himself smaller as if to stoop to try to help her up. The man with two guns raised one at him, and he froze, like a wolf who was well aware he was spotted and cornered.
“Random attack my ass!” The man spoke out in a curling hiss. “I knew we had an infestation! Someones tryin’ to take these prisoners from they cells!”
"They're not your's to imprison, you inbred-fucking-abortion," he started up, but his sentence was truncated by Penny standing, ready to throw herself in front of a gun, because she probably felt she could get off one good shot. Always too eager to play the hero. Always too eager to die.
Alaska stepped forward from her keep. She halted whatever other tirade or other planned movement he may have made, because the way she carried herself was something he had never seen before.
Chains slithered serpentine, as if controlled, as if coaxed, Alaska's arms raised not unlike he'd imagine some holy mother ushering on war for whose children this man would maim and had maimed.
Nik took a step back, confusion etching his features like a scrawled lithography print. What was that glimmer in her eyes? A dead stare as if possessed and yet it felt like a pin-prick of molten-mercury, up his spine. Something unearthed, something Alaska had brought forward with purpose. She had trussed up this fucker like a holiday ham, the sound of chains moving and constricting flesh like twine on a ripe meal, audible.
“Nik. I need you to run. Now. Go find Rhys. We’ve got this. Let me save your ass one last time.”
"What? What do you mean one last time, I'm—he shot you—I—I don't even know where he is—"
“Now, Nik!” The question he was about to ask was halted, because Alaska would be the enchanted huntress of answers—she would be the Goddess of the Hunt. The look she would not give him, he could feel. It was there, like a sewing needle on the edge of a sill overlooking the expanse of millions of miles below, and a twilight sky beyond. It was there, hanging, tipping, and he didn't want to see it yet.
Alaska took his hand, but did not meet his eyes. The needle dipped from the sill. His skin hummed, his heart quickened in a thudded, pounding, breakneck war-drum. His lips parted, as if to speak, but speaking would break the spell. A spell of ignorance, certainly, he was always stupid, and always the last to know and understand.
Nik studied her face, and his favorite...favorite state made his hand heavy with a stone. A blue thing, pretty, smooth, indented...a worry stone. A gift that he had given, bashful about it now but happy that—a gift that he shouldn't have been given back. He looked at it within his palm, it felt so cold despite having been in her grasp. Cold like death.
The blond's eyes widened and he closed his hand around the stone, clenching it like it would pop in the very palm of his knuckle-white, red-stained fist like a chestnut.
''He has something he wants to tell you....'' Disbelief, confusion, anger. Small, microscopic emotions flashed over his face in droves, like a deck of cards shuffled. Why was she giving this to him? The obvious answer stung deeper than the wound in his gut from the twisted blade ever could.
''They took him for feeding time, to the right of the cells....I could hear the noise going from that wa—''
He was gone faster than he had appeared, as if he had never existed to begin with. Nik's mind raced to the whitelighter, the detective, the locus he had now positioned his decisions around so fucking quickly, as though they'd known each other for years when it had been a handful of stupid, fun, horrifying...wonderful days.
Days he wanted to keep, to have, and to hold, forever. Never stop, these little glimmers in his fist, warm him forever and be eternal, to keep. Loved it, wanted it, always.
The stone bounced in his coat pocket, blue in all that red wool, he was...hardly subtle, the expressions on his face breaking apart with lilts of strokes into the air, a flick of blink. The skewer of a brow's dip, the open mouth, panic.
Needed it.
⛧ ⛧ ⛧
Loss isn't easy to define, because it feels like several things at once. Several specific, particular things, that each part themselves is rawer a russet red and deeper a dark umber than any pigment could amalgamate gum arabic into paint.
Nothing exists like these different facets of a cracked-glass-loss, the words are so thin, shy, and brittle, and colors can never match the dopamine shift as it splits through the side of your head and into the air like a fucking bullet to the brain.
It feels like the wind being sucked clean out a wound, a round hole in your chest, one carved by another. One you let someone carve for you, trusting as they held that blade and dug in deep, that the opening would be closed with a blood-red flower and stay safe and sealed. Pressed in with clever hands, a promised smile, you're more complete than complete.
His steps thudded, heart pounding in his ears, and then his world crashed like clear glass through the very frame of reality, sparkling like a thousand little stars. Sparkling, and then dying out in short bursts of blue brilliance, he gasped.
Made better for being bettered, now made divine with that rosed bloom in your chest. He had felt that, hand pressed to his chest, the side of his face to a soft cover to turn, to look, the quirk of a brow and a trembled lip. It was there. It was there in the morning, in sleep cloaked on another, rested and peaceful, he had seen it.
But everything ends at some point, even a wound poked into place and kept solvent by a flower. He had so many open spaces where the life and laughter and love of others had once existed. He didn't ever try to fill old wounds, he invited...fresh, new ones. Gut me, he thought. Maybe one will stay stoppered-stuck.
It never got easier when they bled.
Never.
Nik stumbled into the room with a hand placed over his mouth. A child's expression, a tremble at the loss, eyes wide because words became nothing on a gum-stuck tongue cottoned and heavy.
Loss is...so particular...that hole bursting open, and all your words get siphoned out and into the throat of a deep, dead, dark forest. Where the air is heavy, and it hurts to breathe, and you can't think let alone see.
The mouth becomes a piece of meat, a muzzle to mumble into. And mumble you do, because the shine of spit and tears is the only thing left your body can produce that isn't a guttural scream of loss.
He saw no one else standing in this small room, but certainly something existed in the enclave of a shadow, enjoying perhaps with a wicked smile as the color left his face and he became as paper, scuttled by a gale-force wind.
The heart becomes a muscle attached to a bone by a thatch of twine, to beat hard against its own red, bloody flesh, and each heart beat is a puncture wound by that thin white marrow ticker. The heart doesn't know any better, and it can't stop. It can't stop because the mind has been reduced to the damp shuffling of decay on the bottom of a silted lake in a dead, wounded enclave of family trees. A rotten, hollow mind, courting the worse-rotten corpses of human memories, flung hapless to putrefy and fester.
What a wonderful, wonderful display, a human's grief.
Nothing made a sound except his heartbeat. It had only been a spare handful of minutes, but in his mind, it was an eternity. He could see...everything—
Each motion of that sound of your heart is as deadly as a heart attack, but it doesn't kill you, as you're holding in your own bloody stumps of once-hands the paper flowers of promises that were drenched red. Drenched not in love and bliss but in death for something, physical or emotional. It doesn't kill you, not your flesh or your skin, or your beating organs as they slam against each other in the human suit of skin and meat you wear.
It does not kill you.
But it murders your mind in a gore that isn't deserving of veneration, because if you had ever truly loved, there'd be no odes to how beautiful the martyrdom of your emotions would be. Because no single word or bottomless lake of words, or stripe of red, white, or lilted yellows and peach toned oil-skin on a canvas, could ever hope to articulate the crack loss makes.
The best we as humans can do is spin up metaphors. We haven't yet learned to articulate the nebula of loss to the level it deserves to be.
And for this reason of ill-equipped language and stupid human ineptitude, Nik could find no words, and instead, found his fingers unclasping cold restraints without his mind working.
Found his cold knees on the apathetic tiles as his body moved a lifeless shell into his arms from a metal table, the motion swift and something his brain hadn't yet registered.
Found a busted-open red string of fleshed-flower pock-blooded remnants and gored slivers of titantium-pale skin as he shifted to those knees.
Found a head in his lap, with furls of short curls, a scar on the strong brow, a split lip, blood from a maw. Saw these things, but did not see.
Found a hand on a cold body. The cold body a grey thing like a damp slug stuck beneath a sickened fern's wilted leaf. Found that his own limbs had no feeling because the air and blood had been sucked out of his body through a round hole. The paper flower stopper ripped free in less than a microsecond.
Found already, so slowly and then altogether quickly, that his mind had started its short leap over the edge of a cliff where a ménage à trois of jagged rocks and spikes were waiting to consummate their penetration of whatever scraps he had left of brain matter.
Brain matter that had already been toiled in the blackness he had never signed up for, no scrawling his signature in blood, no contract, no addendum for a devil's deal he never remembered making.
Addled by it already, he broke. It doesn't make a sound, but you almost think it should for how hard it hits.
Mind, fleeing, body, acting. Displaced, outside of himself, uncoupled, because what he saw with his own deep blue gaze was worse than any murder he'd ever commit, and it was beautiful...but...it was possibly the only time, possibly, that the demon blood in his veins would grow sick.
Grow sick to see the painting of this murder, Rhys' throat torn from him, his skin cold and damp like a sweated clove of a bulbed root or tender leaf left to stew in the damp and the dark. The skin of moisture made from air that didn't care that a person had lived in this skin once.
He had lived in this skin.
The blackness in his veins didn't even want to spin what Nik saw as some new intoxicant, it knew, or perhaps could not possibly hope, to break past the blood-brain barrier and run up his body endorphins and name this a drug he could enjoy.
It could do that with anything else, perhaps. It could do that in dreams. But it couldn't do that here, even if it were trying.
It was too much for the devil in him, it kept silent, it sat back, turned itself off, as Nik's jaw grew slack. Eyes, hollowed, shifting to sit on his rear as perhaps the world around him burned open. But he couldn't see it even if he wanted to. Couldn't hear the tick of laughter, because this tunnel vision on the...body...
Sitting in this kennel, the blood drained from his own face, hands running through the small, small curls of hair, thumb over the split lip, dancing over the temple and the wounds, cupping the shell of an ear, looking down. And then, Nik found his hand closing over Rhys' eyes to shut them, because if he could only see the look on Nik's face, his heart would be broken, and Nik couldn't have that.
He'd never want to make the other man upset, to see him cry the type of tears that just leave as if fleeing. Hot, sticky, with muted movements of the mouth, a muzzle, the heart a muscle, beating and bleeding, to puncture, and the words came out strangled and mutilated. Twisting in on themselves, as the blond took a shattered breath.
Another, shattered, breath.
"I'm...sorry I'm late," he said through tears, the expression on his mouth not matching the gaze in his eyes. Almost as though his mouth were trying to have a conversation that his eyes, the windows to his mind and soul, just wasn't capable of performing in turn. His brow quirked, strong, a lilt, like a little war inside his skull, but the muzzled meated mouth kept moving.
"It took me a while, I was fucking around...too much...sorry..you should know, you know...that...you kind of picked...a loser," Nik said, smiling, a self-defacing joke, a violent happiness. Punctuated with a quirk of a brow, a trembled lower lip, hands pressing to close a wound that had no need to be closed, because all the life had been pumped out already. The body had—
Nik grew silent for a moment.
"I-I talk too much, right? 'Shut up Voss', and all that, hmm?" Nik waited for a response, leaning forward, his hay colored hair falling over his eyes. Eyes that couldn't quite see what was in front of him, the blackened blood in his veins not quickening, because it couldn't. It just couldn't get through.
"...ignoring me? Well, shit, princess, can you at least care enough to yell? For fucks sake..." Nik was growing angry, but the expression on that twisted snarl of a mouth still did not couple with the look in his eyes, which was foreign, alien, and as remote as the furthest island in the Pacific.
He shifted forward to look at Rhys' fern-gray, damp-skinned shell more closely. The—
"...what if I give you some time to cool off...can't have you crying into your peanut butter because I took too long to show up. You're such a...a drama queen...." Nik bargained, his voice unsteady, hands shaking as they doted over the other man's features. Strikingly handsome, but inert, like a marble statue, but not permeated with life like a Michelangelo masterwork.
No response, and then the adrenaline in his system completely bottomed out, the blood fleeing his face even further, his gaze twisting, strong brows piquing and then falling, and suddenly, without warning, the expressions matched.
Mouth to eyes, face to body, skin began to feel again, heat beat like a drum, pumping blood, puncturing with a piece of bone, over and over, the hole in his chest, the paper flower lifted free, the cliff's bastard lovers gutting his mind and heart and entrails, and the woods opened up.
The woods, the dark, deep, word-stealing, heart-stealing, mind-stealing woods, opened up, and he reeled forward, and bent over the body, clutching his lifelessness to his chest, a voiceless scream.
Then the scream became real, and it was inhuman. A mirror to Diana's mother-wail. Hearing a grown man tear out the sound of loss, this specific note, this tone and texture, was unnerving. It would've cracked the very fabric of reality in half had he been some kind of creature capable of wielding such power.
But he was just a man. And now a man, bent over, holding the body of another man as his head rolled like a heavy filled sack, lifeless, inert....slack and colorless.
Nik clenched Rhys to his body as if to hug and hold and keep there, as if just one more fucking embrace would bring him back, eyes screwed up tightly, hand on the back of his head, blood all over him. Tighter, more tightly, please, just this, to keep him here, just this...
"Please, just stay..."
"Just...a little longer. Please..." Bargaining, bargaining with some unseen God, bargaining with nothing...he had nothing to trade for this...
"....why do they always...leave me behind...?" Precious, warm...strong arms, the slight quirk of a smile...a better man than he. A better man than he by far. Nik would always be the one left behind, always. He reasoned, as he rocked forward, clutching desperately.
A child's terror, foreign tears on a carved out neck wound, eyes screwed shut, little sobs stumbling from his lips.
They'd leave. He would be left. Left here. And he would be the last one standing. As he had been in his prior life, the last one left. Left, and broken, and sick, and wrong.
Left, and tarni—
Nik picked up laughter, it prickled his ear, something slow and reverberated like a contralto's voice box clicking in hitches over the vocal chords. Female, sultry, sinful, raspy. Rasped in that bare bones feeling, the husky sound that men tend to like, that men tend to prescribe to dangerous, carnivorous women. Alluring, he knew that glottal stop like several taps of a deep indigo-blue loaded brush on the raw canvas of this room.
The blond part-time devil's eyes shot open, and from just across the metal table he had pulled Rhys from was the source of this voice. She had watched him, it had struck through her, enjoying every moment of his pain. Another intoxicant, he could almost see it on her skin, but read it in her eyes, just how much she loved this scene.
She hadn't tried to hide. He had simply not been seeing with his eyes, but merely his heart, his tender...soft—
"Another treat to savor? My, my, my," she continued on, in rasped seduction, arms folding over her chest, leering at the blond like a satiated mercurial deity, "...your sorrow will taste swe—" she never finished her sentence.
The sleeping darkness crept not in a wave, but in a shot-put, a bullet in emotional form, ripped up and torn clean through the air. It had divined her location and in missile-precision, no thought in his mind to guide it, penetrated the shell. Cracking her chest open like a ripe pomegranate to burst clean through the ribs, soft skin flesh, and crush the heart in its dark tendrils.
A squeeze onto the floor, the shadow twisted as his head tilted slightly, as if he had caught someone speak his name from a distance. But, unsure, as he didn't look. The slick wrench sounded like a rope strangling a balloon filled with warm, thinned honey. It licked down the side of that black slip of shadow, carried it in drops down into the shade underneath the table.
The creature's body dropped to the floor like a stone in a thud, he barely registered the motion, his eyes moving back to the man he was clutching. Slowly, like a pale moon turning to shade.
He had absolutely no real reason in this moment to put up any appearances that he was anything else than a creature of intense pain made manifest in a meat suit, able to field the void of heady damnation like a fucking maestro.
"...Please...don't be angry with me...I've been as good as I can be, for so long and...I don't think I can..." the part-time devil muffled into the body he held with a desperate child's grasp. Nik's deep blue eyes were glassy, but there was something else there in the circles of his gaze, a black pitch of acrylic ink. Ink tapering like the tree tendrils stamped into his back in tattooed majesty. It was spreading all over him, from the center of his chest, along the veins of his forearms, it was everywhere.
A deep, dead, dark forest.
"She's...never going to forgive me. But it's a lot to ask..." To fight for this long, against something so much bigger than yourself, something you don't understand.
Step over the edge, and the freedom is...right there.
He didn't have to wait any longer, he didn't have to wait, and to clamor back up this cliff without the detective by his side was...it was too much. He carried too much, always, labor-animal by nature. The soul, the human spirit—it was heavier a thing than anything else in the galaxy.
Humanity, emotions, they were burdens. Burdens that blistered, bruised, and burned.
And perhaps that was why he was like this, why he was afflicted. Because the sheer raw power of his impulsivity, his emotions so all-consuming, he had been just....an easy target. A wonderfully perfect, willing, submissive plaything. It was a miracle that he had lasted this long, when greater men had fallen to the devil's will far sooner than he had.
. . .
He, instead, stopped at that edge, and spoke deep into the shell of the ear that had once belonged to a man that he actually loved. Wanted. Needed.
Always.
"I'm sorry."
[/div][div class=bottoms]In your life you will meet shooting stars. You will see them, make your wish and see them disappear.[/div]
[/div][/div]
[/div]
[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"][/div][/div][div class=statusText] Location: Heaven? & Raider's HQ[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
BGM: Fear of Falling Asleep
Interactions: Raguel & Nik BasiliskVeranda
[/div]
You have to wake up.
You have to wake up, and soon.
Accept my hand, Emrys, or they will all die.
They die and this earth dies too.
Your world will spring back, reboot in a few million years, but it will start from scratch again.
That is all I am allowed to tell you- after this statement all fear for fear’s sake is forbidden.
Why?
You will find that out in our conversations.
I will not give up on you.
I will not leave you until you are in the clutches of heaven because I have a mission.
And you, you, are the catalyst in a war that will find you soon enough.
Who am I?
You know who I am. You have always known who I am.
It is time to begin, there is a lot of work to be done.
So I will command you once more: Wake. Up.
"I'm sorry."
Two words, whispered like a prayer off devout lips, spliced through the consciousness of his mind and to his very core. His left index finger twitched, a possible post-mortum reaction if not for the vibrant pigmentation that spread across his body like grey-scale transitioning to color. The hues of life took away the ashen grey, skin knitting itself together at the neck. Muscle, nerve, tendon, flesh begot flesh until there was nothing left of the wound but remnants of old, congealing blood.
The world smelled of cigarette smoke, wet paint, and copper.
The world smelled of home.
A singular light swung across the room, blaring and obscenely white-gold, casting shadows across the floors like a water color ink. The outline of wings, pitcher than night, stained the linoleum and spanned across the diameter of the room. Shadows of feathers outlined in detail, smudged against the ground and arching out from the center of his back, detached and yet somehow still apart of him. Eyelashes faintly batted against closed lids, lungs filled with a first breath, scorching as his heart began to beat in basic poundings of a bass drum.
In the beginning, there was music, sound in time. The heartbeat hummed, a steady faithful beat, eternal harmony. Life flows from that heartbeat and life goes- forming the rhythm
of every human soul. Where apathy threatens rhythm, the heartbeat resounds with life. Vitality amplified, Death flatlined, without notes. Can you hear the song?
Irises the color of a perfect raindrop on a blue aster, focused on the world around him. Pupils dilating as they compensated for lack of light. Threads of hay-colored hair lingered in the peripherals of his vision, half aware of being in someone's embrace.
Yes. Just like that. Grab hold, Emrys. And do not let go.
A hand, shaky and coated in the maroon of his own blood, lifted towards the source of the comfort somehow registering the words spoken in the back of his mind. His fingers slid across warm flesh, still chilled from the death the body had only momentarily experienced. His thumb was met with something wet. Tears.
Tears that had been meant for him.
It ached somewhere deep in his chest to know that someone had cried over him. Held him while his soul was no longer part of this world.
"It's...good to see you, sweetheart."
The words came out rough, raw, formed almost as if he couldn't get the syllables quiet right but not all together unintelligible.
"I...just...had....one hell of a fuckin' dream." The corners of his mouth curled into a soft smile, his other hand moving up to rest against Nik's other cheek. His palm moved against his bearded jawline, gaze alight with a fire that glowed from within. It was different from the effects of a blessing, stronger, a theater of holy light that mended soul back into body. The feeling that overwhelmed him, that wave of love and fear that crashed into him, shouldn't have been as strong as it was. It shouldn't have rocked him to his very core and it shouldn't have been able to ooze through the divine taint that engulfed his soul. Emotion was a thing that Angels did not believe in. It was a purely human thing, so why was he still feeling?
His brows furrowed, perplexed for a moment, but beyond questioning.
He didn't have to know why.
Not yet.
Not in this instance.
Right now, he was more content to study the face of the quasi-devil leaning over him. Expression open to all of those crashing waves of emotion. Vulnerable. Only to him.
"Nik, I want you to know that you're---"
The sound of a door being thrown open caught his attention, the peace in life that he had found fractured in an instant. The sight of a man with a painted face and wild eyes opened his mouth to say something. Hand raising, the barrel of a gun pointed directly at Nik's back. He didn't think about how he had stood up so fast, or how he had pushed the blond out of the way. He wasn't sure how he had dodged that bullet or aware that it had only just grazed his arm. He had never moved that fast in his life, humanly it wasn't possible. The gun skidded across the floor a few feet away, and the raider that had barged in on them barely had the chance to scream before Rhys snapped his neck. The body fell to the floor with a thud.
The light swung overhead, revealing the absence of shadow.
He turned towards the other man, a flickering image of someone else, mouth set in stone and features void of expression, before it was him again once more. Watching with open concern.
Rhys took slow steps towards him, a bit irritated that his confession had been interrupted mid sentence. It was the second time it had happened and he was beyond pissed. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, ignoring the feeling of wet blood being smeared across his skin. Maybe now wasn't the time. His gaze flickered up from the floor to rest again on Nik's face, "We should...um...get the fuck out of here before more of those assholes show up."
The peppering of gunfire and yelling carried from down the hall, momentarily drawing his attention. He assumed that the others would probably need help. And...well, he didn't have much time to help them as he was now. The power that thrummed in his veins, that same engulfing of divinity, wouldn't remain for long. Not until the next time he called upon it. Rhys moved towards the gun with even steps, stooping down to retrieve the weapon. He studied it for a second, checking the chamber, before raising his gaze once more to look over a the blond.
"What do ya say, blondie? You and me versus the world?"
He smirked a bit, tilting his head to the side as the light cast shadowed wings across the wall. It was a good enough confession for now.
The rest, those soft moments of whispered words and lingering touches, would have to wait until they were in retaliative safety.
Rhys moved out into the hallway, gun angled towards the ground as they drew closer to the firefight. He wasn't sure how they were all going to get out, "There's an escape plan right? Don't tell me you just rushed in here like some fuckin' lunatic on steroids." He vocalized his concern, glancing back at Nik with an arched brow. Rhys cast him a flat look, obviously not all that amused with whatever the answer was as a breath left him in a rush of hot air. He paused at the end of the hall, peaking his head around the corner just as the wall was hit by a bullet. He jerked back, cursing as he almost fell back into Nik. Pieces of the wall fell to the floor in chunks leaving a gaping hole where his head had been just seconds prior.
His jaw ticked, glaring at the space as if it were the wall's fault he almost got his head blown off.
"I'll go out first and draw their fire, are you ready?"
He asked, gaze briefly moving over the other male to reassure himself that he was fine. That he was real.
Maybe running out guns blazing a couple minutes after being brought back to life wasn't the smartest thing.
But it was the only thing he knew how to do.
He'd process everything later, once he knew that he wouldn't have to worry about dying again...or someone else dying.
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Woooooohoooo!!I REACHED ALLEAPOO'S POST!
Woooooohoooo!!
Yuuup that's them! I didn't write for Allea because I didn't know if you wanted to write something about killing the vampire.Your Rhysie post before chapter 4 mentioned a jeep pulling up. That's Alleapoo and Revie's right?
Yuuup that's them! I didn't write for Allea because I didn't know if you wanted to write something about killing the vampire.
No problem boo, I get that you're busy busy. Just take it easy and post when you can hopefully the updates I've put up help some.Well aww.. you shouldn't have =( seeing how far you guys have pushed ahead, I'll probably skip to right when we are in the jeep. Perhaps make some references to the fight. This job is really testing my limits... I'm supposed to be on my first day of leave and I'm still getting bugged. It's pretty late here... so I'm gonna turn in, read up the remainder and get a post in. Really sorry for the mega delay T.T I did enjoy all yous writing though! Tried to read as much as I could though I admit I had to skim, otherwise I'd never be able to finish.
GL my frand.Well aww.. you shouldn't have =( seeing how far you guys have pushed ahead, I'll probably skip to right when we are in the jeep. Perhaps make some references to the fight. This job is really testing my limits... I'm supposed to be on my first day of leave and I'm still getting bugged. It's pretty late here... so I'm gonna turn in, read up the remainder and get a post in. Really sorry for the mega delay T.T I did enjoy all yous writing though! Tried to read as much as I could though I admit I had to skim, otherwise I'd never be able to finish.
Beleth cinnabuns would it be alright for you guys to use post codings that are mobile friendly ^-^;? I don't mind even if it gets squised to one word/line. As long as i can get the whole sentence.
Sometimes i can't read your wonderful writings even if i tilt my mobile. Reading on the go is how i keep up with you guys some days i don't get to access a computer until like super late.
But if it's too much of a hassle i guess I'll just make do!
Yeah I can't read them on my phone either but I have the luxury of being able to edit the post and read that way so I forgot about it >___>;Beleth cinnabuns would it be alright for you guys to use post codings that are mobile friendly ^-^;? I don't mind even if it gets squised to one word/line. As long as i can get the whole sentence.
Sometimes i can't read your wonderful writings even if i tilt my mobile. Reading on the go is how i keep up with you guys some days i don't get to access a computer until like super late.
But if it's too much of a hassle i guess I'll just make do!
[div=overflow-x: auto; height: 645px;][div=width: 600px; height: 600px; margin: auto; center; border: 2px dashed #ff9900; background-color: white; ]
[div=width: 250px; height: 200px; margin: auto; center; position: relative; left: -150px; padding: 2px; border: 2px dashed white; overflow: scroll; font-family: Georgia; color: white; background-color: #ff9900;][SIZE=25px][B]hunt·er[/B][/SIZE]
[SIZE=20px][I]/ˈhən(t)ər/[/I][/SIZE]
[SIZE=15px]noun[/SIZE]
[INDENT][SIZE=15px]a person or animal that hunts; a person searching for something.[/SIZE][/INDENT]
location
[INDENT][SIZE=15PX]on the road -> lowe's[/SIZE][/INDENT]
mentions
[INDENT][SIZE=15px] a good witch (?), the witch with sense, prophetic partner, sweet witch and her snake, the scientist, the battle blonde[/SIZE][/INDENT]
[INDENT][SIZE=15px] [USER=3405]@Lekiel[/USER], [USER=7111]@Hell0NHighWater[/USER], [USER=5005]@Anelia[/USER], [USER=63412]@Saboona[/USER], + me[/SIZE][/INDENT]
[INDENT] also ryan + edana ofc < 3
[b][SIZE=15px] delivery dutyyyy also kayden's in the RV defo [/SIZE][/b]
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[div="width: 250px; height: 200px; margin: auto; center; position: relative; left: 150px; top: -250px; border: 2px dashed #ff9900; background:url('https://em.wattpad.com/00cfa5a5fbd3b87cc0a5265528cac65c121c3c21/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4374346c544c6e50332d4d3756413d3d2d3439313430313536322e313466343539653062396336396431373337333535333831303338362e6a7067?s=fit&w=720&h=720'); background-size: 100%;"][/div][/div][SIZE=35px][font=Georgia][CENTER][COLOR=rgb(255, 153, 0)][u]REINA SOLIS[/u][/COLOR][/CENTER][/font][/SIZE][div=height:0px;][/div]
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[size=17px]It hadn’t been too long since the headquarters, since Reina saw the smoke coming from the clearing as they all drove away, as she was saddled beside a young witch she hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing and the prophet she already knew all too well, as two witches she hadn’t met in the action sat in front. They drove in silence, Reina keeping her eyes on the road instead of anywhere else, keeping her mind off the impending amount of stress surging through her veins. When it became a bit too much, Reina shut her eyes and buried her face into Caleb’s neck, taking in a slow breath as she felt Caleb rest his head on hers and give her hand a squeeze. He was so good at comfort - she didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve something so nice, it felt wrong. If she couldn’t find her cousins, was it okay for her to be enjoying the company of someone like this? Shouldn’t she be more focused?
[b]"So... you're telling me that those savages had those rifles lying around in storage but chose to charge you guys with chains, clubs and the occasional handgun?"[/b]
Reina looked to the white witch in the front seat who’d spoken, Reverie. What an interesting tone of disbelief for one who wasn’t there, she thought. How odd. Reina hadn’t purposefully brought out the weapons, but when she looked down, she noticed her fingers - the ones not entangled in Caleb’s - wrapped possessively around her new rifle. At the acknowledgement, her grip loosened on the gun a bit. She hadn’t even realized - had she been holding it like that since they’d driven off? A little embarrassing to have one of her ticks be out in the open like that.
She opened her mouth to answer Reverie, but before she could speak, though, the witch driving snickered in response to the question.
[b]"Ya think they went 'ta Harvard before the world's end?”[/b] The witch, Allea, spoke as if her voice was laced with a healthy mix of honey and venom. [b]“Got those degrees at Yale? Or mayhaps they toured Princeton with those high IQs."[/b]
The dark witch seemed to understand it. It helped to relieve the spike of anxiety Reina had first received at the question. [COLOR=rgb(251, 238, 183)]“So you already noticed how reckless the raiders were."[/color] She said smoothly, gently tracing her thumb against the back of Caleb’s hand to steady her nerves even more as he nuzzled her hair. [COLOR=rgb(251, 238, 183)]“They were liable to shoot off their own feet if they weren’t careful.” [/color] Reina sounded pleasant, but it was unnerving to deal with such a different type of snark. Reina was used to the Caleb type of testiness - it never meant anything to her, and that she could brush off. She knew those words were harmless. This, however, felt like Reverie was judging them.
Reina didn’t feel like being judged so soon after finding her freedom. Especially since Reverie hadn’t been one of the people held captive. But her family had judged her for less - just for even existing - so why would she assume a basic stranger wouldn’t? Reverie didn’t know her, and didn’t seem to want to; as much as the witch tried to act like she was a blank slate her voice betrayed her irritation of having more people in the car.
If only she were as lucky as the witches and had some inner ability, so she didn’t have to rely on weapons as she did. They could just do as they pleased and she had to worry about limited ammunition, had to worry about her humanity. Had to worry about others. If only she were stronger. Weapons unfortunately made her feel like she could be that strong, because they were more effective than her fists against the supernatural.
[COLOR=rgb(251, 238, 183)]“What an interesting question for you to ask, though, already knowing all of that.” [/color]
What a waste of time, she meant.
But it wasn’t necessary to admit it.
--------
It was nice to be out of the car. After Reverie’s question had brought a little tension into the air, Reina had made sure to include Theta and get to know the other witch beside her, especially after her snake made a loud hiss at the way Allea drove. The witch had seemed quiet, but friendly; something that seemed rare in this vehicle. She found herself thankful for Theta's kindness. Reina made a mental note that when they found food, they’d need to find some for Epsilon as well.
Her attention, however, was pulled to checking on those who had been injured, and on the young goth witch who had shown her a moment of vulnerability before building up her walls once more. It shouldn’t have mattered much to Reina, but it wasn’t something she’d expected from Edana. Caleb was an unfortunate tag-a-long, although he didn’t seem to mind much. He told her to not be long with a smirk and a hand squeeze, leaning against the RV as she went in to make sure everything was alright.
The blonde she’d met earlier was with Namri, sitting on the bed around the unconscious afflicted as they continued to make sure his wounds were properly healed. Edana must have already headed out from the vehicle, Reina noted as she walked over to the back, towards the three. She could always check on her later, when things were a little less hectic. When the unconscious were conscious.
The scientist looked worn out, but her eyes seemed full of determination. Reina just hoped she wouldn’t hurt herself with all the work she was doing. It didn’t seem like anyone else but the blonde was interested in helping the healing process; if Reina had some skill with it besides disinfecting and bandaging she would have offered. Namri had obviously done well; everyone else who had been hurt looked absolutely fine now, starting with the blessed blonde in front of her.
[COLOR=rgb(251, 238, 183)]“Do you...three need anything from inside the store?” [/color]
Namri glanced up at her while the blonde stayed close to the man, much more focused on if he was still breathing or not. [b]”If you could bring us some medical supplies for Ryan, and maybe some sustenance, I’m certain Penny and I would be grateful.”[/b] She said gently. Reina wondered how Namri could do all of this without eating, and it seemed the moment she’d asked that to herself Namri had slid a piece of chocolate into her mouth.
Ah, so she’d gotten lucky during the drive. Good. If anyone deserved food, it was her. Reina nodded with a smile. [COLOR=rgb(251, 238, 183)]“You’ve got it.”[/color] She patted Namri’s shoulder, giving Ryan and Penny a once-over before heading out of the RV.
[b]“So?”[/b]
Reina’s hand found Caleb’s once more as the prophet spoke, opening his eyes from the little rest he’d given himself while she’d been inside. She smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. [COLOR=rgb(251, 238, 183)]“We have to grab some med kits and food for them.” [/color]
[b][i]“Have[/i] to? You’re too nice. We could just find a bed.”[/b] Reina rolled her eyes as the smirk came back to Caleb’s lips. [b]“Get some rest, or not. Depends on how frisky you’re feeling, gorgeous.”[/b]
She knew there was a hint of seriousness to his words, but she couldn't help but smirk back. [COLOR=rgb(251, 238, 183)]"We can talk frisky after business is handled."[/color]
[b]"Well, I [i]do[/i] love a woman who knows what she wants...lead the way, sweetheart."[/b]
----
The aisles were, surprisingly, lined with items. There were a few things spilled over, haphazardly so; paint dried as Reina stepped in it, assuming it had been recent. When was the last time someone had visited this store? She could see the dust piling up on some of the shelves as she passed by them. It seemed like it had been at least a year. Maybe after the original shock of Times Square, people didn’t bother. Why risk leaving the safety of your home when you could be attacked?
Caleb got her attention as they reached the right aisle. Reina could vaguely hear the skidding of wheels, coming from another, but she moved on with Caleb anyway. She let go of his hand to grab three med kits and went to grab bandages until she heard the prophet suck on his tongue. She turned to him as he came to her side, shaking his head a bit.
[b]“Now, babe, if you hold too much, where will my hand go?”[/b]
Reina couldn’t keep the smile from her face as he took two of the med kits from her arms and stuffed some of the bandages in his pocket. He probably thought he’d be home free with that. [COLOR=rgb(251, 238, 183)]“You’re right. It’s too bad, I guess we’ll have to hurry and deliver all of this.” [/color] She added two large bottles of hydrogen peroxide into his grasp, her smile becoming a grin as he let out a soft groan. She grabbed two bottles of isopropyl alcohol to fill her own arms, giggling softly as he replied to her with slight exasperation.
[b]“Why do you have to be right?”[/b]
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[div=overflow-x: auto;][div=background:url(https://data.whicdn.com/images/300883985/original.gif); width:550px; height:290px;margin:auto;margin-bottom:-125px;][COLOR=transparent].[/COLOR][/div][div=background:white;width:450px; height:1px; padding:0px; opacity:0.8;margin:auto;][COLOR=transparent].[/COLOR][/div][div=background:white; opacity:0.3; width:450px; height:60px; margin-top:-7px;margin:auto;margin-bottom:-58px;].[/div][div=width:450px; color:black; font-family:oswald; font-size:28px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px ivory; letter-spacing:2px;margin:auto;text-align:center;margin-bottom:-25px;]Edana[/div]
[div=width:450px; color:white; font-family:georgia; font-size:13px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px ivory; letter-spacing:1px; text-align:center;margin:auto;margin-bottom:70px;]________[/div][div=background:#ffffff;width:940px; height:700px; overflow: hidden; padding: 5px;margin:auto;margin-bottom:-25px;][div=height: inherit; width: inherit; padding: 0px; overflow: auto; padding-right: 35px;margin:auto;][div=height: inherit; width: inherit; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-family: Oswald; line-height: 18px;margin:auto;]
Location: Lowes
Interaction: [USER=62168]@BasiliskVeranda[/USER]
OOC: A response to Nik's interaction/fluff?
[FONT=Courier New]"...well, aren't you fuckin' precious?"[/FONT]
[FONT=McLaren]
Words that were not her own caused the goth to stop mid skid. Thank Lucifer for the darkness or the individual would have seen an illegitimate gush of humiliation scattered widespread across Edana’s face. A foot lifted in the air in preparation to skitter across the ground in her socks was now redirected into a poised tree stance. Repositioned against the side of her knee and gliding its way down to the ground, the goth lolita being turned in the direction of the voice, a hand at the ready over her necklace. “Who’s there? Who are you?” She had been unfamiliar with the voice. The closest thing she could surmise had been the grown blonde male calling out to the rest of the ‘kids’ as though he were some elderly man. The back of her foot met with the front of the displays as the witch prepared some sort of fighting stance before the newcomer had revealed his name. [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New]"I'm Niklas by the way, I don't know if we got a chance..."[/FONT]
[FONT=McLaren]“We have not.” Edana said matter of factly. Come to think of it, his voice and demeanor had seemed more familiar. Squinting in the cutting blackness and the goth was able to make out the silhouette, faint features of the male and his cigarette. Always the cigarette. At least from what she’s seen, that is. Watching Niklas inhale and breathe out a stream of smoke had an oddly subduing effect on her. Not to mention the level of exhaustion that had ridden the male’s face. Had they not been where they were now, experiencing the things they had Edana would have surmised Niklas had just finished serving his time at war to come home to a newborn child. There were an insurmountable levels of depletion that seemed to be overbearing even their apocalyptic state. "Merriweather. Edana Merriweather. I suppose it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance." [/FONT]
[FONT=Courier New]
"I have to go check on my Coin and make sure the afflicted hunter is taken care of… .wanna race?"[/FONT]
[FONT=McLaren]At least, that was how Edana had heard it. Granted there have been pauses and self reflection even some more puffs of tranquilizing smoke that continued to allure the goth like some naive child; but she knew he had places to go and be. Feeling herself tense a bit she had almost forgotten about Penny and Ryan’s current state. Hell, she was sitting beside the two during the RV ride. Hopefully they were alright. It would be common courtesy to check on them. Perhaps her prayers to Lucifer for the two had been received. If not by Lucifer than by some other deity. Her blood sacrifices from worship a few weeks ago was not about to go in vain.
The witch shook her head once to refocus onto the current conversation. Skates. Checking in. Assisting. Yes. Yes she was going to accompany the blonde grandfather male in finding his . . . family and ensuring their wellbeing.
“I will accompany you.” Her words were stiff, unpolished from lack of social experience. She had meant her words wholly, however. Sitting herself upon the work scooter, knees tucked to her chest Edana heaved a small sigh before looking over the folded cap joints as if to fumble how to maneuver her new ride. It was not long before she had worked around using the tips of her toes as propellers while pushing off of the ball of her slippy, sliding foot.
“You’re on.”[/FONT]
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[div=width:450px;text-align:center;font-family:verdana;font-size:8px;margin:auto;margin-top:4px;]template by [URL='https://www.rpnation.com/members/astraeaaa.46929/']astraea[/URL] ∙ beware hidden scrolling[/div][/div]
Yeah I can't read them on my phone either but I have the luxury of being able to edit the post and read that way so I forgot about it >___>;
cinnabuns
I tried some fancy shit and got my ass whooped T.T So I just came up with a very rough and crude fix! With this code at least we can scroll sideways on mobile without having to tilt! It should also allow us to scroll even if the text goes out of screen. You could try this out if you want
Hopefully it didn't mess things up for others!
Alright on it! ^^ Is there a way to turn it mobi friendly?
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