cursedfortune

[cursedfortune]

i'll be back soon on my blogs and discord. i've just felt really burnt out due to some heavy personal things. <3

a friend nudged me and reminded me i'm a person to other people and i tend to overlook that a lot - since i don't see myself in that way. so i get quiet since that has always been my norm and it's still just habit to do. that's my problem i've always had to deal with but it still sneaks up on me with how shitty it can get. especially when combined with the factors that have been stressing me out.

just adding this for clarity. it isn't me being bored or ignoring anyone - just me entering a 360 blind spot sometimes. and it definitely isn't me seeking validation or kind words you guys are always so ready to give (ilu). just being transparent since i'm still under a blanket rn.

sorry if this is all vague. i don't much care to talk about this sorta stuff a lot on the blog(s). so i usually save the details for close friends. but it feels weird not saying something to make it clear it's a me thing rn.

[cursedfortune]

"Satisfy this cat's curiosity, would you? Has there ever been a moment if your life that you wish you could forget?"

@beforecreation

Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought him back. The saying turned over in her head once before she mentally mused at how unlikely it was that something like curiosity could do in Beerus of all beings. Tricky as it was, given that curiosity has doomed many souls that came to stand before her.

The witch knew the answer and yet she took a moment to think it through, to try and form it into words that could be best understood.

Flickers of memories subtly creased her brows. The screaming and crying of those she betrayed. A boy that once followed in her shadow and who didn't understand why she did what she did - he would die never knowing the truth he yearned for. Her own patron fae, headless and cast in chains as she helped deny him his head and a new home.

An elf that promised genocide on a scale that Beerus was familiar with, who built her a grave out of respect before she betrayed him, too. A sickly knight that pleaded for Mortem's aid in killing her - and what came after. To witness the knight and the elf laid side by side, knowing she helped extinguish their fractured light.

Friends. Comrades. How many have been culled? Nearly all she knows.

Mother. Mother. Mother. The look on her face when her daughter provoked things bigger than their world. Proud but also knowing her own life was officially over.

"How many people will you scorn for your purpose?"

She had been asked once, standing trial for her own treachery.

"I don't intend to scorn but if that's what you all feel, then I suppose my answer is simple. However many is needed."

The witch brushed back her winding plum locks, tucking them back over her shoulder. The subtle crease to her eyebrows gone as quickly as it came.

"No. A desire to forget often means one feels some manner of regret or guilt. Those are not feelings I can wholly acknowledge." Her hand fell away as a faint smile graced her lips. "I suspect, however, the moment I am unbound from my purpose and stand within the afterlife... that answer will change." She mused despite knowing the regret she'll likely feel then will be absolute agony. But it was one she'd meet like an old friend.

Her head slanted a little to one side, black eyes squinting playfully. "Though, I did once try this thing known as a 'fruit cake'. Which... didn't seem to truly contain much fruit, as it did many other things. I wouldn't mind losing that memory."

[cursedfortune]

[cursedfortune]

b cup sideboob where you can see her whole breast through the armhole on her tank is so literally lifesaving

[cursedfortune]

i need a pervert who’s obsessed with me so i can be a pervert who’s obsessed with them

[cursedfortune]

─ Moonlight by Thure Sundell (1864-1924)

[cursedfortune]

Sorry for being slow and selective. Just got off a two week stint of taking care of my parent's property and critters. I've been trying to recover in this heat wave. Hence the lack of writing ooc and ic. I'm building back up right now.

I have notes of who I owe from threads to asks to ooc chatting/plotting. Feel free to check in if you're worried I may forget something. :)

Hope you're all doing well. <3

[cursedfortune]

Her Regulus didn't seem bothered by the fact his focus was being pulled away. An accidental thing but really, when would they learn? It was so easy for them to lock eyes upon the other, to discard whatever they had been doing. How many plants had she halfway potted in favor of spending time with him? They distracted one another in all the best ways.

The sound of her name on his tongue invoked a gentle sigh from the witch. She loved the way he said her name. Her face leaned further into his touch, chasing every moment of it. Her beloved was perfect in her eyes (flaws and all, of course). His touch, his kiss-- she basked in it all. Took none of it for granted. How could she ever stop kissing him? How could she ever stop holding, touching, expressing her love for him? She couldn't. Neither could he. All the more reason they constantly drew one another's focus.

He was her everything. The way he regarded her, the way he sought to treat her. Every effort he made, every truth he shared, all the affection he poured into everything he did for her... she could feel his love in every heartbeat and action. Every look he gave her.

As the kiss drew to an end, she regained her breath - watching him with cheeks that gently reddened at his words. His compliments always managed to draw out a hint of a blush from the witch.

"You know I'll never say no to your various means of appreciating me~" Mortem teased gently, giving the tip of his nose a playful nudge with hers before she leaned back a little. Admiring him and the way the firelight warmed his gaze all the more. "I could get lost thinking about all the reasons there are to love you. I could throw away time just looking at you, feeling you... experiencing you." And she has before. How many times did he just let time around them keep going while they lived in their own little bubble?

Just them. That's what mattered to her.

"Ahhh... every moment with you is bliss, m'love." She smiled.

This was not what he expected .. he had work to be done, plans to go over, things to be done and orders to be had, his entire day was nothing more than that, plotting, planning with endless meetings as well, along with new wives to see, new rooms in his castle to created, new followers to check over, treasure to see, along with wedding gifts sent from other chapters of the cult, busy, busy, busy.

Still those thoughts went out of his head as his eyes grew wide for a fraction of a second, surprise briefly overtaking the concentration on his features. But it was a pleasant surprise, one that melted the ice that perpetually surrounded his heart. He hadn't anticipated this, not now, not in the middle of his strategic planning. But it was a welcome warmth, a reminder that he wasn't alone in his pursuits.

He turned to meet her eyes, the smile that had started to form on his lips grew into something genuine, something that didn't often grace his face. His thumb stroked her cheek, a gentle caress that seemed to echo the affection in his gaze. "Mortem." He whispered, her name a secret shared between them in the quiet sanctum of his study. He leaned into her kiss, a rare vulnerability in the touch of his lips to hers.

It was like a drug.

He was an addict then when it came to her, was that such a bad thing, was that so cruel and harsh, so sick and twisted, he was not sure, the one thing that he had always wanted within the world, within his life here was to be like everyone else, to have what everyone else, the full thing, a partner, a lover, a friend, a best friend even, a lover and a wife, he wanted it all and he felt like he had it all here in one person and not spread over hundreds of others.

The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, the soft rustle of paper as he set aside his maps, the crackle of the fireplace in the background. The warmth of the flames bathed them in an orange glow, casting flickering shadows across their entwined forms. His smile remained as he pulled away slightly, his eyes still locked with hers. "I suppose …" He murmured. "That even a king must take a moment to appreciate the jewels in his crown."

[cursedfortune]

Her head tilted curiously at his suspicion - not that it was an unpleasant one. He seemed to enjoy her presence. It made sense, of course, a lot of the time the way she masked her energy was through a calming effect. It helped others overlook her but it made sense that a creature like him would notice and it felt nice to have it appreciated.

Mortem was content to sit across from him. The food looked and smelled lovely, but unless he invited her to eat - she wouldn't. It wasn't hers to take. Instead, she observed him and how he positioned himself to eat. Was his true form more bothersome to eat with? Or was this just a preference? She was curious on his earlier words and they affected him on the day to day.

A mundane little thought but for beings like them, the mundane was important to not overlook.

His invitation to eat she accepted, rarely one to pass up on food. She danced around anything too sweet, preferring the simple basics of meat, bread and things one could consider 'foraged'. Fruits and vegetables. Bread, of course, was a weakness of hers. She took a bite, enjoying the perfect blend of softness and crisp edges. Considering he pulled all this food from a dream, it made sense it was all made perfectly.

Mortem let out a soft hum of appreciation, her gaze flickering up at his acknowledgement of it. She didn't know just yet what to make of him, but his company was pleasant. It was an important thing, to have someone feel comfortable enough to sleep around her - for her to feel comfortable enough to sleep around another... these little things mattered. They carried weight. Even if she was confident very little could slay her, that didn't mean she couldn't be imprisoned and the likes. So sleeping beside a potent being such as he was no lightly made decision.

And eating together now, trusting his curiosity was mutual, it mattered just as much.

There was an unusual pull between them. A pleasant dance that had them spiraling in the more enjoyable of ways. He didn't reject her chaos, she didn't reject his service to a god and beliefs of justice. They were both just doing what they believed was their purpose.

"I agree." She concurred, cooing softly at how food was one of the best simple pleasures in life to indulge in. They thought similarly in this manner. "Simple pleasures are often overlooked and taken for granted. But I have marched for years on end with little rations, it's amazing what one can come to miss and the gratefulness that follows."

Mortem nibbled on a piece of bacon as she eyed him, a curious gleam arising once more as she chewed and swallowed. "Why must comfort be a luxury rarely indulged in for you? You seem to have the power and means to live your life as you wish."

He took a sip of his tea, watching her with a gentle gaze. "I suspect it's your doing, your power." He said, his smile not faltering even as he took a bite of toast. "Your presence seems to have a... calming effect."

As he would remain seated, as he would cut through his breakfast and eat it with the upmost of manners, before reaching for a piece of bacon and popping it into his mouth. The crackle of the crispy meat and the snap of the fat was music to his ears. As he would watch her, his head lowered down, his neck was stretched upwards and then down, like a rolling hill giving how tall he was to ensure his arms could reach his mouth through the mask he wore.

He took a moment to appreciate the breakfast spread before them. It was simple but delightful, and he had to admit he hadn't eaten something so... normal in a very long time. The eggs were perfectly runny, just the way he liked them. The toast was crunchy on the outside and fluffy within, and the tea... oh, the tea. It was heavenly, a blend he had never tasted before. It warmed the soul from the inside out. Just as he dreamed it to be.

As he ate, he couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with this witch. They both served a greater power, but in their own ways, they were bound by the very essence of their beings. Her chaos to his order, his sleep to her waking reality. They were like two sides of the same coin, forever locked in a dance that neither could escape.

As he ate he watched her with a content smile, his eyes never leaving her face. "You eat like you enjoy it, don’t worry about the food, it is from a dream, all the perks, none of the drawbacks." He said, his own hunger seemingly forgotten for the moment.

“I enjoy the simple pleasures in life." He said, his own smile mirroring his. "Food is one of the purest forms of comfort, don't you think?" As he would take another bite and he nodded, taking another bite of his toast. "So enjoy yourself." He said, swallowing. "In our line of work, comfort is a luxury we rarely get to indulge in."

[cursedfortune]

Requiem of the Rose King by Aya Kanno

[cursedfortune]

His opinion on the mentioned trance not sounding good made her laugh, as if she believed otherwise. It would be an inconvenience for him, but it wasn't unpleasant for her. He was silly, not understanding her meaning. But then, how could non-witches know what she meant when her own manner of explaining was still so limited?

He looked with his eyes, she searched for danger with her energy. She needn't look, she barely even needed to use her eyes at all - so she fetched kindling for the night. Piling it safely under the protection of a tree. She was glad to see he knew what to do himself, she had expected that maybe he was unfamiliar. Together, they created a nice shelter and campfire.

Her favorite part as always, sparking a campfire to life with wood. She was efficient in bringing it forth, adding a few leaves and blowing to get the flames going. The witchling pulled some foraged good from the pouch upon her waist - enough rations that surely shouldn't fit in there and yet she had no issue pulling them out to share.

Eating quietly, she watched the fire and she watched him until night settled in and it was time to rest. Mortem let him lay down first as she added enough fire to keep it burning. Most would put it out but not she, for she was never truly asleep. Besides, the warmth was important. Especially for her.

The witchling crawled beside him and collapsed, curling up on her side as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and out of his space. Black eyes watched him, darker than the night itself that now surrounded them. For a time, Mortem merely stared back at him. Watching him watch her, it was oddly comfortable to stare into his golden eyes. But eventually, she allowed her own to close - to trust resting beside him. Sleep pulled her under but part of her mind was ever awake, ever listening. Her breathing steadied, her hand rested upon him gently, all was right and calm...

Until she felt an intrusion. Her perimeter had been breached. Her eyes opened just as the snap of a twig could be heard. Immediately the witchling was crouching over him, like an animal defending its own. She listened, feeling out the energy of the approaching souls that seemed lured in by the campfire.

Wordlessly, Mortem stepped out of their little shelter to greet the humans standing on the opposite side of the campfire. Armed, they looked at her with surprise a moment before peering past her to notice the boy inside the shelter of leaves and sticks. Amusement took over them, seeing the two of them as not a threat.

It was funny, so Mortem laughed, too. She parroted their laughter until they stopped, her own lingering a few seconds after until she also ceased - staring at them with a blank stare and mocking smile. One of the men took a step around the campfire and she mirrored him, stepping into the same direction. She could see his confusion and as he stilled, so did she.

"What is that?" One of the others asked.

"What is that?" Mortem parroted yet again, her head snapping to stare at the demi-human.

The animals within the forest went quiet, the insects of the night ceased to make a sound. A silence crawled over the area as she looked back to their leader that she initially had been copying.

"What is that?" She asked again, black eyes reflecting against the flames unnaturally. A hand lifted, finger pointing at herself as her head slanted to one side. "What is that?"

Her hand lifted into the air, fingers curling inwardly as her raw and unrefined ability to manipulate energy manifested - seeing their strings so clearly. Entropy. There.

"What is she doing?!"

"Haha-- go back to the wheel." Mortem smiled, not seeing the value of their lives or the stories they carried. With a simultaneous pull, entropy quickly ate them from the inside-out and sent their souls scattering. She waved, a very human thing to do, as if to say farewell.

Turning back around, she yawned and crawled back into the shelter and collapsed. "I'll protect you." The witchling echoed her earlier promise as she stretched out. It didn't matter who they were, if they meant well or not. They were dead now. He was safe. She was safe. It didn't matter beyond that to her. Mortem smiled, settling back into place beside him.

He looked down at their joined hands and realized that he didn't want to let go. The warmth, the connection, it was something he hadn't felt in so long. But he knew they had to stop. They couldn't go on forever without rest. And she was right, the night was not a safe time to be traveling in a world that was unpredictable and dangerous.

He walked for god knows how long as he slowed down and nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. Taking out a small black book he had in his pocket as he flicked through some pages as she spoke. "Alright, we'll stop for the night. This trance, does not sound good" He said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

The whispers grew quieter as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of red and orange. It was a stark contrast to the desolate landscape they walked through, a reminder that even in the most barren of places, there was beauty. He led her to a small clearing, a place that looked as if it had been untouched by the ravages of his power.

He looked around, his eyes scanning the area as if searching for any signs of danger. It was a habit ingrained in him, a survival instinct that had kept him alive for so long. But as he saw the witchling start to gather branches and twigs, his gaze softened. She was so... alive. It was a stark contrast to the destruction he had wrought.

He helped her build the camp, his movements precise and efficient. It was clear he had done this before, perhaps many times in his short life. They worked in silent harmony, their powers melding together to create a space that was both comfortable and secure. He watched as she conjured a warm fire, the flames flickering and dancing in the twilight.

As darkness fell, he lay down beside her, his eyes scanning the shadows that stretched out from the flickering firelight. The whispers of his Authority grew louder, a symphony of greed echoing through the night. Yet, with her near, the cacophony of voices didn't overwhelm him. He could think, could breathe.

He curled up on the makeshift bed of leaves, his eyes half-closed as he watched her. He knew she was still wary, still afraid of what she was, but he had no such qualms. His world was one of endless cycles, of life and death, of growth and decay. His power was a part of that cycle, even if it didn't look like it to the untrained eye.

When he was sure she was ready, he closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the whispers of the night wash over him. He could feel the energy of the earth beneath him, the gentle pulse of life that remained even in this desolate place. It was a comfort, a reminder that he was never truly alone, not when he had the power of a witch and a witch with him as well.

As they lay there, he felt his eyes on him, studying him. It was strange, yet not unwelcome. He had been watched by many, feared by most. But here he was, watching her with something akin to fascination. As his golden eyes stared at her, and then blinked, as he heard a snap of a twig, and stepping sounds, others where here, as he just lay there, not moving an inch.

[cursedfortune]

Her husband was a precious soul, in her eyes. She always enjoyed watching as his mind worked away to solve problems while he still was present enough to respond to her. Fingers traced his jaw and he leaned into her touch, responding in his own way. But it was a way she understood, one she often returned. They didn't always need words to speak. Regulus himself had to get used to the fact she was more used to speaking through actions than with words.

Seeing the result of them understanding one another was a beautiful thing. These moments were ones she'd cherish the most.

The more she held him, cuddled up to him, the more his attention seemed to divert. A kiss to her head was met with a pleased little sigh. Him sparing little moments of attention her way she'd never complain about. Her husband had grown into showing his affections and she was positively captivated each time he shared himself with her. Mortem could always feel his love for her, as she carried his heart in her chest - but it was all the nicer when he showed it in a tangible way.

Her head lifted from the crook of his neck as he continued to give her his attention. Here cheek leaned into his hand as he cradled her head. The ways he touched her were ways she would have rejected from anyone else. Past, present, future. Mortem never thought about having a connection like they do, but now she couldn't imagine life without it. She had maimed and killed others for less when it came to touching her, yet he always managed to inspire a smile when he did so.

As their eyes locked a flicker of an apology graced her features. Not that she was wholly apologetic about any of this. Still, she expressed it nonetheless - she hadn't meant to distract him from his work. Yet even with the expression she wore, she cradled his face closer. Their foreheads kissed, their noses brushed one another, their hearts beat in unison. She wanted to steal his time, his attention and savor these moments. To only know the joy that was them and their love.

Her fingers sank into his pale hair at the base of his skull, tipping his head just enough for her to press a gentle kiss to his lips. She had stolen his focus by accident and so she intended to make use of it by expressing her affections. With a kiss, with a grazing of her teeth and a smile that seemed impossible to fade away.

All he could do was sit there as he just smiled, his gaze never leaving the maps. Her touch didn’t distract him from his ambitions; instead, it fueled them. He knew that she understood this about him. That was why she was here. Why she had come to him today. Her silent support was more valuable than any words of encouragement she could have offered. It was a bond that went beyond verbal communication. A bond forged in the fires of battle and solidified by the blood they had shared.

He felt her fingers traced the lines of his jaw, feeling the tension there. His smile grew a little wider as he leaned into her touch. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget about his hunger for power and the world that awaited his dominion. He focused solely on her, the one who had chosen to be by his side through it all. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, a rare gesture of affection from the man known as the Sin Archbishop of Greed.

The candlelight danced in her eyes, reflecting the gold of his own. A soft smile graced her lips, a silent declaration of her devotion. She knew him better than anyone, knew the monster that lurked beneath his charismatic exterior. Yet, she had made her choice and would stand by it until the very end. His hand moved to cup her cheek, a thumb brushing over the softness there. To touch a witch, was punishable by death in this world, but for them it was a testament to their unbreakable bond.

Their eyes locked for a brief moment, the air between them thick with unspoken understanding. It was a rare moment of tenderness from the man who had built an empire on greed and conquest. He leaned into her touch, his expression softening for the briefest of moments. It was a silent challenge to the world, to the very fate that had shaped him into what he was today. As he rested his head against her own and just breathed in her scent, divine, deadly, wonderful, dangerous, something that could kill a normal person, but he was hardly normal.

[cursedfortune]

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, from a letter featured in The Life & Letters of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

[cursedfortune]

Even when he stirred, she stayed asleep. Or, at least, most of her did. The problem with Mortem was, her sleeps were rarely deep. Certainly never deep enough to enter a dream-like state. Some part of her soul (and mind) was always awake, always processing the world around her in case anything important or dangerous were to happen.

Some part of her was aware he had awoken and removed himself from her lap, but other than mentally flagging it, she continued resting. Falling asleep anywhere, anytime just came all too easily to her. One could certainly give him the credit, given his abilities seemed to circle around this sort of thing. Nonetheless, she was content to rest and consented to it.

She sat kneeling, her head tilted slightly as her plum colored hair fell over her shoulders. Mortem didn't seem to mind the rain as it fell, sleeping contently beneath it as if this was absolutely the norm for her. Because it was. The rise and fall of her chest was steady but still barely noticeable, as if she was a statue lost to time.

His command for her to awaken she felt in her soul. Like a hand upon her shoulder, stirring her awake. Reflexively, she batted aside the command - not at all being used to another being able to touch upon her consciousness in such a way. Yet nonetheless, she stirred. Her arms lifted above her head as she sat up taller, stretching herself from the upright position she had fallen asleep in. The witch could feel the rain against her skin still, she could feel the way the fabric of her dress clung to her frame. Damp hair turned all the more curly as she brushed it back out of her face before standing.

"Don't you look cozy, lovely." The witch mused as she spotted him beneath a tree, at a table he no doubt pulled forth from a dream bubble like before.

Her head tilted back, looking up at the skin and the falling rain for a moment before she stepped beneath the tree's protection. Fingers combed through her hair as she gathered her locks, wringing out the excess water. Being caught in the rain didn't bother her, nor was being witnessed in such a state something she found to be a problem.

Seeing the extra chair he had placed, she pulled it free from the table and took a seat across from him.

"You look a little more refreshed compared to our initial meeting." Mortem commented, one leg crossing the other as she leaned back in the chair.

The clouds above grew thick and full, the scent of rain approaching. Rain that smelled of sweet berries and fresh cut grass. Rain that whispered secrets of the world around them. It was a gentle rain that kissed their forms as they slept, the earth beneath them drinking in the moisture greedily. The flowers in her basket grew more vibrant, the petals plump and the scent growing stronger. It was a soothing sound, the rain, as it hit the leaves of the trees and the grass that surrounded them. A serene moment in a world of chaos.

He slept deeply, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. His mind was finally at peace, free from the weight of his duties and the whispers of his ancestors. In his slumber, he dreamed of flying among the stars, his dragon form unchained from the mortal coil. He dreamed of battles won, of a world at peace, of a time when he could lay aside his sword and rest without fear.

The warmth of her touch remained with him, a gentle reminder that he was not alone. Her energy, a calming embrace, wrapped around him like a warm blanket, shielding him from the darker whispers that often haunted his dreams. It was a sensation that washed over him like the rain, cleansing away the tension and leaving him feeling more rested than he had in centuries.

As the rain grew heavier, his eyes snapped open. He sat up abruptly, the weight of his head no longer a burden upon her lap. The world around them had changed, the clearing now filled with the sweet scent of rain-kissed berries and grass. He looked down at her, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. Who was she? The witch had a power that was unfamiliar to him, something that called to the very core of his being.

With a stretch, he yawned once more, the flaming clouds around his neck rippling with the movement. As he looked around, his gaze fell upon the basket of flowers, now more vibrant than ever. With a flick of his wrist, a table and two chairs materialized from a dream bubble that hovered by his side, the wood looking as solid as if it had been carved from an ancient tree.

He pulled out the table and chairs, setting them up neatly under the canopy of trees. Then, with another wave of his hand, a sumptuous breakfast appeared, complete with steaming eggs, crispy bacon, golden toast, and a pot of tea that emanated a heavenly aroma. The rain had stopped, but the scent of the fresh earth remained, mingling with the delicious smells of food.

He sat down, his tail swishing behind him, and took a deep breath, feeling the last vestiges of sleep evaporate from his body. He looked over at the witch, who was still sleeping peacefully, a gentle smile playing upon her lips. He wondered what dreams she was experiencing, what worlds she was exploring in her slumber, he could look at them, make them what he wanted, but instead his bent arms moved, his gloved hands touched the toast and buttered it instead as he started to eat his breakfast, at a table, in the middle of the countryside, as if it was perfectly normal in every single way.

“Awaken.” He muttered, pulling her out of her sleep and dreams, the most important meal of the day, was breakfast and he made enough for the two of them, he was interested in her, what she was, what she could do, what use she could be to someone like him.

[cursedfortune]

It's so fun for me to occasionally write Mortem in her early years. I don't do it often because it can be difficult to make sense of it. But once in a while in an AU I can write her younger - like, first century or less young. And it's funny as hell to me because she's way more creature-like than person.

Her experience with non-witches is only limited to when humans burned her originally home down in the prairie. So any non-witches meeting her, she's likely to mirror/parrot/mimic them a lot. Learning, adapting to the other in every way possible. She understands their language but she isn't used to speaking a language verbally, so it's incredibly simple phrasing or her just parroting back their phrases. Otherwise, being completely mute and staring or gesturing.

Younger Mortem is also a little more impulsive and over-confident in some areas, so she's likely to bend or outright break normal witch customs when her curiosity is beckoning her. Or other times it can have the opposite effect, where she is secretive about the most basic things (who she is, what she is, etc). She's also absolutely more prone to not caring for mortal morality and can do harm for her own curiosity, amusement or just to remove a potential problem.

Meeting a young Mortem is a problem most of the time and that's what I find so fun/funny about it. Mainly because it's a different kind of problem from her current self.

[cursedfortune]

Hello everyone I’m proud to announce that I’ve finally been accused of blasphemy.

[cursedfortune]