absqxatulate-blog

[absqxatulate-blog]

{ I just wanted to toss up a quick hiatus notice! You guys probably saw this coming since my activity dropped here, but I have a convention coming up (as in one I’m doing artist alley at) and it always gets difficult for me to juggle blogs when con crunch is out to get me (and I’m one of the first tables when you walk into the alley so I feel like I need to have a lot just to make sure my table looks nice), so I’ll just be one my main ( @vantagx ) until the convention is over (April 8th)! I might have to extend this hiatus, but I have to see what happens (aka I had an interview today, and I’m shadowing there next week, and if it works out I might be changing jobs)! Also I haven’t forgotten about those starters! I’ll get to them as soon as I have the chance, and the same goes, if anyone happens to check, for everyone who has liked my promo recently! }

[absqxatulate-blog]

{ I just wanted to toss up a quick hiatus notice! You guys probably saw this coming since my activity dropped here, but I have a convention coming up (as in one I’m doing artist alley at) and it always gets difficult for me to juggle blogs when con crunch is out to get me (and I’m one of the first tables when you walk into the alley so I feel like I need to have a lot just to make sure my table looks nice), so I’ll just be one my main ( @vantagx ) until the convention is over (April 8th)! I might have to extend this hiatus, but I have to see what happens (aka I had an interview today, and I’m shadowing there next week, and if it works out I might be changing jobs)! Also I haven’t forgotten about those starters! I’ll get to them as soon as I have the chance, and the same goes, if anyone happens to check, for everyone who has liked my promo recently! }

[absqxatulate-blog]

@albamagus || Continued from X. 

     “No, I suppose you don’t.” He carefully tuns onto his side to face the stranger, but in the dim light of the looming stars, and with vision that is beginning to falter, it’s difficult for him to make out anything but the blurry lines that compose the other’s figure. It’s been a long while since he’s been to a bustling city, and he would rather avoid such populated areas; he’s always preferred the quiet and solitude to rushed chaos anyway (with his health, navigating larger cities was an impossible task for him, and he couldn’t afford to be away from home for too long; something would come searching for him). On a night like this, though, not being secluded to the crowded, bleak air of a city was a blessing; he would still struggle to make out the shapes of the stars overhead, and hear the gentle flutter of the breeze as it licked at grass and nearby plants.

         “I’m glad then, it’s very beautiful,” his voice is hoarse and strained as it vibrates in the depths of his throat; quiet enough that it might have been swallowed by the noise of a more lively area. His lips twist into an amused smile at the stranger’s questions; pressing his palm to his chest, he tangles his fingers into the grass to keep himself steady as he slowly sits up. Forcing himself to swallow down the tepid, metallic liquid that rises from his lungs at the pained motion back down, and using the pressure of his knuckles against his skin to keep his chest from heaving too visibly. “I was resting.” He was still a long way from the mountains he considered home, and he couldn’t make the trip back easily. “I don’t, but I should leave soon.” A strangled caught rattles his chest as the words leave his lips, and he’s quick to duck his head; droplets of blood speckling his hand as he takes a moment to quell it before pulling his hand away to bury it in the grass. “Forgive me. You would be correct, I’m not from around here. I’m a doctor, I came to visit a client.” He struggles for a moment to get the words out, but he finds his bearings easily enough; as if he’s used to the dull ache in his chest, and how his lungs throb with every breath he takes.     

[absqxatulate-blog]

{ Starter call! Give this post a like, and I’ll write us up a starter! Length will vary, and expect me to be slow! Feel free to hit me up if you want to plot! Specify muse by replying to this post! }

[absqxatulate-blog]

lucian-silvestris:

@absqxatulate liked for a starter!

Lucian pushed away the alien device with a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. He was getting nowhere, but he needed to figure out how to work this thing. It was imperative that he keep up with the times. Although, one could say that it was his fault for falling behind anyway. But hey, can you blame him for living like a hermit deep in the forests of Siberia for a few years? It was beautiful, all quiet and peaceful…

Now, Lucian was having trouble figuring out the new technology that had come out, and groaned when he realized he would need professional help to understand his new device. Glaring at the thing sitting pretty on his desk, Lucian got up and shoved it in a bag before stomping out of the door of his apartment.

He went into the first technology help center he could find - some place called Geek Squad - and rang the bell for help. As soon as someone emerged to help him, Lucian grimaced and pointed accusingly at the device.

“Please help me. This- This thing won’t work! I can’t figure it out, and I’m about to lose my mind. Can you please explain how laptops work to me? I would be forever grateful.”

|| ☾ ||

     “Uh, what exactly do you mean by ‘how they work’?” He stammers out at the man as he makes his way over to the counter. Typically people make an appointment before barging into the overcrowded store where the service is tucked away in, but, luckily for this stranger, it had been a painfully slow day, and he’d only managed to catch the eyes of a few customers sorting through the monitor selection to his right throughout his shift (not even a single call to use an excuse to drag himself out of the stuffy store to some poor sap’s house who couldn’t do basic repairs to save their lives). He had taken to counting the guests who had even bothered to come in today to keep himself entertained as he stacked spare parts beneath the desk like his manager was’t capable of seeing him from the camera positioned directly over his head before this man had come in, and started spewing nonsense nearly faster than he could keep up with. 

       It only occurred to him after he had forced the shaky question from his throat that this guy might honestly have no idea how to use a computer, and he takes a moment to collect himself. He had never been too in-touch with his more inhuman instincts, surely not at work either, but when he refocused his attention on the stranger he bristled slightly. This guy wasn’t human; he didn’t smell human, and if there was something Artemas was intimately and painfully familiar with, it was the stench of human blood as it filtered into the air all around him. But he wasn’t a vampire either (he was well aware of the things that gave his own kind away). But his dealings with the supernatural were strictly limited to vampires, and he wasn’t about to get himself tangled up with anything else (and nothing about this stranger made him feel threatened, at least not at the moment). So, he brushed it aside. If he could live in the bliss of never knowing, he gladly would. 

      “All right, so if I’m following, you really have no idea how to use a computer.” He lifts his hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances about the store; still just as empty as it had been before. “I’m mostly here to fix computers, but uh, well, there’s no one here right now, so I guess I can give you some pointers?” The thoughts are still lingering in his head as he speaks, much as he tries to shove them aside (he’s just some weirdo who probably has the same skillset as an old man, he relays through his mind as he leans over the desk to look at the poor laptop).

        “I’d hate to ask this, but you at least know how to turn it on right?” Well, at least if he died today it wouldn’t be because he was a vampire, but because he was trying to teach God-knows-what how to use a basic laptop (that was reassuring). 

[absqxatulate-blog]

                                       my scars are a CONSTELLATION, 

                                        the   (( cosmos ))   across  my skin. 

                           They prove I have the strength of blazing stars, 

                                                even on the coldest night

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guardingsniper:

❛  Sir,  you look a little pale.  Are you alright?   If you’re not feeling well please allow me to escort you to the medical facility to be examined.  ❜      

@absqxatulate   //     SC.

|| ✄ ||

     “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.” His words are cut short; however, by a violent cough that speckles splotches of deep red upon his fair hand. “Totally fine,” he wheezes, as if it somehow makes his argument more convincing (but he recognizes the uniform she sports, and he risk the military discovering the truth behind his frailty).           

[absqxatulate-blog]

favoritefadedfantasies:

@absqxatulate - “wandering alone at night “

It was always intended to be a normal night of hunting - she’d been in town a few days and she’d gotten her bearings. A few vampires had been hunted and slain, but she had yet to find any threads that would lead to something bigger. That was good news. If this town was mostly small, disparate groups they’d be dealt with much more easily. 

But something had felt wrong in the air that night. It was too still, too quiet in the usual places. It made the seasoned huntress suspicious. Usually there was some action - especially on a Saturday evening. There was so many people bustling about that prey was easy to find. But there was nothing.

Tehra changed her course, her senses telling her to go to a different part of the city, one where she knew a poor, but very full, hospital was situated. Occasionally she got these gut instincts, and Tehra had learned not to question them. She simply followed them.

She knew something was wrong before she reached the door - the power seemed to be completely out in the building and there were small groups of people huddled together inside the parking lot or trying to force their way into the vehicles of those that could drive. In the confusion, it seemed no one noticed the huntress which was a good thing. She could only succeed if the locals didn’t catch her saving them. 

The automatic doors opened easily, giving view to the dead security guards and receptionist just within. She’d grown used to the sight of innocent bodies by now, but these struck something in her. They were the most blameless of victims and the most sinister of murderers. 

The huntress picked up her pace, weapons drawn as the ran through the halls. Emergency lights silently blinked, illuminating the path of devastation before her. Each room she passed had been forced open, metal and door frame buckled from the hands of the vampire that had torn it apart. Rage had already begun to build inside of her, but it was being a more powerful force with every step.

Tehra quickened her pace again as she ran through the hallway - every room on this one had been broken into. Eyes landed upon the stairwell. That would be the only way to climb… to track down the coven that had committed this unforgivable sin.

|| ☾ ||

     Sticky fingers grope aimlessly at his side where vividly dark, nearly black blood pours from his too pale skin, seeping through the gaps and running down his leg where’s painted the fabric of his shoes brown. Rosy lips pull back as a pained hiss rolls off of his tongue; vibrating against elongated fangs that seem to shimmer in the dreariness of the stairwell, even with the bright, flashing lights of the alarm blaring over his hunched form. Willing golden irises to focus on the blood-splattered concrete, he tries to shove the screeching alarm from his head and soothe his rampant nerves. But the ringing in his ears was overwhelming, and there was so much blood in the air that it threatened to make him ill; bile already lacing the back of his tongue as he squeezed his eyes shut against the dark hall and the flashing lights to try to make sense of everything swimming about in his head.

        His wound was deep, but was healing rather quickly, and wouldn’t impair him. But it was the least of his worries. He could still hear the agile footsteps of the killers lurking about upstairs, and the shivering, cold blood of the residents still trapped somewhere on the upper floors. Even with his keen senses he couldn’t pinpoint their exact location with smell alone thanks to all of the bodies already tossed about the hospital, and the overwhelming stench of the other vampires storming through the building like it was their personal playground. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and the vomit that threatened to creep up from the depths of his throat at the memory of walking through the automatic doors to the sight of helpless patients and workers strewn about the tile floor; wide-eyes, deathly pale, and bloodless, and his fingers tighten about his wound. 

         He wasn’t confrontational. He despised vampires, and did his damn best to avoid getting caught up with them, but when the thick stench of must and blood had drifted out into the lazy streets from the rundown hospital, his feet had stumbled their way through those doors before his mind had the chance to catch up with them. He wasn’t much of a fighter either, but he had snapped at the group of vampires lording over their victims heedless of how every bone in his body screamed at him to run away. And he should have, but he had gotten tangled up in blurry limbs, filthy claws, and sharp fangs instead. In the chaos, he had somehow managed to get a lucky hold about the throat of one of the vampires; his claws sinking into his flesh and muscles, and nearly ripping his head from his shoulders, but he had panicked, and earned a nasty wound in his side as the group fled to the higher levels of the hospital (if he hadn’t been so much of a coward, he could have killed him, but no matter how much he hated them, he couldn’t bring himself to take a life: a vampire who couldn’t kill and vomited at the sight of blood, he had been doomed from the start). 

       He could still turn back now, and pretend he had never gotten involved in this. But the nagging guilt that tugged harshly at the back of his mind screamed at him to keep moving forward. Peeling back heavy eyelids, and tearing his fingers away from the scabbing wound, he watched the shadows dance in the small, tight space before the sound of footsteps snatched his attention away from the coven he had foolishly attacked. Quickly turning on his heels, his bright eyes easily make out the person standing before him and he tenses. He’s not entirely sure what she is, only that she isn’t human (and she’s not a vampire either). He hasn’t enough experience with the supernatural to even start making guesses, and frankly, he doesn’t think it really matters either.           

       His fingers curl against the wall; nails digging trenches into its surface. “What are you doing here?” a low hiss bubbles up from his lungs as he speaks. Nothing about her reminds him of the vampires raging upstairs, but he’s not about to write off the possibility that she could be involved with them (and if she’s not, why is she here in the first place).  Every fiber of his being wants to get a thousand miles from this place, but every, little pang of guilt keeps him rooted in place (he can still remember the meek, ashen faces of the employees and sickly who had gotten away with their lives because he had involved himself in this mess; because he had given them time to escape, and wasn’t that reason enough to keep himself grounded? Wasn’t that reason enough to keep fighting; for the chance that he could do something worthwhile with the devil’s power that flows through his undead body).   

        “I-I won’t let you through if you intended do any of the people still here harm.” He doesn’t sound confident, but he doesn’t back down either. “I won’t let anyone else die tonight.” And the words are meant more for himself than her ears, yet he speaks them aloud. His resolve is a fleeting, fragile thing, but, God, he’s come this far and he’ll take this fight to his grave if he has to, for the sake of the people still trying to flee the property; for the sake of the people he knows are still hiding in these halls, and for the ones who have already died at the hands of his kin, even if he refuses to claim any relation to other vampires in general.    

Fear of Being Found // Tehra x Artemas

[absqxatulate-blog]

aestuavis:

▸ @absqxatulate​ || starter call ( accepting )

|| 紅 || :: “ arghhhhhh — !! STUPID STUPID STUPID — !! ” it was - rare - for the female hacker to be letting out her ( frustration ) like this in public, but seeing as she was - alone - on the BENCH in the middle of the night, she allowed her emotions to get the best of her and YELLING into the - dead silence - of the air that was already passed midnight. she was pulling a ALL-NIGHTER trying to ( finish ) this work when a anonymous hacker broke through the - security system - and destroyed her plan to finish it within tonight. with the ( quiet ) atmosphere, her voice ECHOED down the street only to look up and saw that she wasn’t ( alone ) like she had assumed. shit.

                 “ — sorry about that … i didn’t think anyone would be up or out at this time of the night. ” her apology was sincere. did she - wake him up - by that SCREAM she let out earlier ? though, the FIRST THING that caught her eyes was the person’s glasses. - cool - and rather flashy, but that’s beside the point for now. “ … do you live around here ? did i wake you up with that scream ? if i did, i’m sorry. lack of coffee and sleep are getting to me. ”

|| ☾ ||

    Golden irises traced the name flashing across the vibrant screen of his phone a dozen times as it buzzed away in the palm of his hand before he finally worked up the nerve to hastily slide his thumb over the flashing, red button and shove the thing into the pocket of his hoodie (whatever crazy scheme his boss had gotten himself involved tonight would have to wait until he was actually on-shift tomorrow; he couldn’t be constantly repairing the damage he managed to do in the ungodly hours of the morning. For a man who ran a store centered around electronics, he really couldn’t even so much as look at a computer without breaking it. With a silent huff, he self-consciously rubbed the cuff of his jacket along his lips and picked at the dirt still lodged beneath his fingernails as he made his way through the park. It was a weekly ritual at this point in time (though he would much prefer it wasn’t; he didn’t have much choice in the matter). But what was normally a quiet walk through a lifeless park was abruptly skewed by a sudden scream that made his keen ears twitch, and his body stiffen.           

      Had he been more in-tune with his inhuman senses, he would have smelled the stench of her blood a mile off, but he had been too fixated on putting distance between himself and the graveyard to pay a lone human much mind until, well, he was basically sending right next to her with his still ringing from her yelling. “Uh - no, I mean that’s a fair assumption,” he babbled out, his hand shifting to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. He had never been good at conversation, and his nerves were still on edge. He really didn’t have a good excuse to spit in her direction either as she started questioning him before his mind really had a chance to catch up with her mouth. “Oh, yeah, I live in the apartments over there.” He inclined his head to the north, where a small, rundown apartment complex was nestled just outside of the park. “You didn’t wake me up, I was - uh, working on something for my manager.” Lying wasn’t really a talent for him, but at least he had already come off as odd before he had to give her a reason for his being out so it didn’t sound out of place. “Maybe you should call it a night?”                

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meltcdkiss:

@absqxatulate ll starter call

Mei was abit confused—how come she didn’t sense him nearby was he blocking her senses somehow? was he an enemy? an ally? Mei approached with caution walking around the male narrowing her eyes as she suddenly asked. “I do apologize for acting odd–but somehow you managed to sneak into the area without me noticing–how did you do that exactly?” 

|| ❁ || 

      “Forgive me, it was not my intention to surprise you.” He remained idle as she circled him. His overall presence had never been terrible strong outside of the forest to begin with, and his ever fleeting life did little to quell this. And he was naturally light-footed, while the creatures he lorded over harbored no fear of him, they were incredibly timid and skittish beasts, and after a few centuries of ruling over them he had made a habit of keeping his steps silent to avoid startling them. “I am afraid I am not doing anything differently, it is simply a habit of mine.” He allowed a lighthearted smile to play on his lips; he hadn’t any intention to harm or fight her, so he kept his posture relaxed and open.    

[absqxatulate-blog]

[absqxatulate-blog]

@inseparabilum ||  Starter Call (always accepting)

|| ✄ ||

     Weak, skeletal fingers tug the hem of his hood up over golden locks and the tiny, struggling body of an awkward kitten perched upon his head before they slide down; an index finger falling upon his lips. “Be a good girl, Holmium, darling,” he whispers against calloused skin. “There’s something amiss here, and I would hate for someone to figure out what you are.” He feels her squirming form still against his scalp; tiny claws tangling in his hair as she buries herself beneath thick fabric and the shadows it cast. Her weight is as familiar and warm as the hard steel of the aged revolver rubbing against his hip bone, and tucked beneath his loose-fitting shirt with the unsightly amount of blue leaking into the otherwise bland, dull town. Their uniforms sticking out like a sore thumb when measured against browns and grays; against the ashen faces of the children who line the dirt roads, and the too thin bodies of the elderly who peer out through tainted glass windows from the supposed safety of their crowded homes (and he blends in with them; his collarbone and rip cage stark against white fabric that falls into the gaps they create).  

         He’s been to this rundown town a dozen times in the past (he’s been trending to a frail toddler for a handful of years now), and he’s never so much as spotted a single soldier in its dusty inn, let alone shoving their way through lonely alleys and into failing shops. He can only assume they’re searching for something, but he can’t imagine this place has anything to offer them. They’ve barely been able to spare him a meal or bed when he’s been forced to extend his stay in the past (not that it matters much; he barely eats or sleeps these days), but caution remains in his weak bones and tired body as he makes his way through the old streets to pay his client a visit while tiptoeing around the shuffling soldiers like they’re carnivorous combing through the forest for helpless prey to make an easy meal of (how he loathed them).   

         Pursing dry lips, the view of a small home crept into his blurred vision, but there was no girl waving at him; her pudgy hands clasped around the cracked, wooden fence wrapped about the meager property as she called his name with her hoarse voice (her father stumbling out of the rotted door to collect his sickly daughter in his muscular arms). There’s a sinking feeling in his hollow heart as he strains his eyes to focus on the quiet yard; at the tattered piece of blue fabric caught in a splinter jutting out from the fence where the girl always waited for him. His toes catching on his ankles as he took a step back as he tried to pick out any sign of life from the house. But it was still. The air about it thick. Craning his neck, his eyes rolled over the cracked earth to the worn, unused shed nestled in the crook of the yard.

          Tilting his head back to watch the road for soldiers for a moment, he climbed over the fence, and stumbled over the shed; it wasn’t visible from the main path and blended into the side of the house (if they were still alive, it was the only place they could have hidden themselves). Grasping the rusted lock, he fiddled with it for a moment before thrusting a bony shoulder into the molded wood, nearly pulling the remains of the door from decade-old hinges. Dust flutters into his lungs and darkness overtakes his faltering vision as he enters. He’s greeted by silence and the stale taste of must and rot in the air in the painfully long moment it takes for his foggy eyes to adjust to the dim light. There’s nothing. Or so is his first thought until the gentle wiggle of an old shovel lodged between a shelf and a plank of wood in the back of the shed catches his attention. Yanking the door shut behind him, he carefully makes his way over to the far corner, but it’s not the color of ginger hair that greets him like he would have thought; no it’s blonde and chestnut and the figure is distinctly canine rather than human.                    

        He slowly lowers himself onto the floor, peering into the shifting shadows (there’s no doubt that clouds his mind when he just barely make out the awkward shape of the beast’s strange figure). “You poor dear, are you the source of all of this?” He ignores Holmium as the feline’s nose slips out from beneath his head to sniff playfully at the air. “I’m not here to hurt you, as hard as that may be to believe. Come with me, I won’t let them lay a finger on you.”        

[absqxatulate-blog]

@diavoleste || Starter Call 

|| ☾ ||

    The gentle hum of the night drones away in his sensitive ears as snow bogs down the long, dimly lit streets of the abandoned city; her people lost to the battle that had taken place on its soil earlier that day or fled to the far reaches of the earth to escape the hands of war creeping ever closer to their hearts with each dreadful, growing day. With only the ruins of buildings that had been standing just that afternoon looming over him, or crumbling beside him, there’s an eerie chill that creeps up his spine as his boots make silent thuds against the pavement and dirt. In the dead of night with the moon dancing gracefully in the dark skies above, it should feel like home to the beast he’s become, but with trembling, slender fingers ghosting over frigid walls and loose bricks, tonight feels more like a nightmare than anything else. He can’t feel the cold touch of the wind, or the wet kiss of snow against his skin, but the lingering taste of his newly lost humanity still knows they’re supposed to be there. 

      It’s only been seven years. It’s been seven years. The thoughts play out in his head with vastly different meanings as he sinks deeps into the city’s heart. The silver cross of the Dusk Dragon he still keeps tied about his neck leaving behind a permanent, ugly burn in upon his chest where it scratches unbearably against his skin beneath his cloak, but it’s easier to tolerate its wicked touch than stomach the fear that’s constantly swimming through his lifeless body with its comforting presence biting into his flesh. And it serves as an anchor to keep him sane against the constant drum of hunger coating the tip of his tongue and the instincts that rattle his bones. But they’re tame, he knows, compared to what the man who had ruined him radiated that night. It’s a curse and a blessing; his timid bloodlust and the meek thud of predatory instincts that are always in the verge of spilling out. And he still doesn’t know if that’s simply because he’s weak or if its the Dusk Dragon’s way of laughing at him. 

       He wrinkles his nose against the stench of blood and carnage from the battle that still filters into the air long after the battle has been won. It’s enough to make him sick and hungry all at once, but he swallows it down. The taste of blood and vomit still clinging to his tongue from his meal a few moments ago. He supposes he should consider this war a blessing; it was easy enough to follow after an advancing unit and take advantage of their kills to sustain himself. He had a meek heart, and killing never came naturally to him, even when he had first been changed. And he didn’t have the stomach for it (he still can’t stand the sight of blood; it makes him heave, and swallowing it hasn’t gotten easier over the years, he still finds bile in his throat more often than not). Had he not been such a coward, he would have starved himself to death long ago, but the pain of it as the more animalistic side of him slipped into control was too much for him. He was too afraid of what he might do if he lost himself to it. 

      Swallowing the lump in his throat, he keeps his head low; golden eyes straining to not look at the bodies lining the streets, but he can still feel the pit forming in his gut regardless. And a hand subconsciously shifts to clutch at his chest, and even through the fabric of his shirt, the cross still manages to sting his palm, but it’s become a welcomed pain to his otherwise unfeeling body (it’s like he’s still alive if he can still cling to its pain and pretend his humanity it’s spilling out from the tips of his fingers and the soles of his feet at every hour of the day). But Gods, he still wishes he could inhale, and feel his lungs swell up with air or hear the awful thump of his heart as it slammed against his rip cage. It’s gone now; just a fleeting memory that keeps making excuses for what he’s become. 

          He slowly sinks down onto his knees, his fingers lifting to tangle themselves in red hair (the color of blood; like even his own mother had wanted nothing more than to mock him since his birth). “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispers into the wind, as if the corpses strewn about the streets can hear him. He hadn’t killed them, but he felt like he had violated them by sucking their bodies dry. He felt like he needed to apologize for his worthless existence; to the family he had lost, and to the Gods above for still mopping about this planet. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will away the images of the man that flood through his head even now (and he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to murder, but he hasn’t even tried to hunt him down despite the vampire’s parting words. or maybe in spite of them; if he’s not allowed to die, why should he stoop to gracing his family’s murderer with an easy way out).  

           His head shoots from the safety of his arms as every inch of his body tingles with the sensation of danger, and he’s quick to stumble onto his unsteady feet. An older vampire; a more experienced one would have sensed the other’s presence long ago, but Artemas hadn’t either to draw upon. Golden irises dancing over the shadows as his body stiffens (there’s no heartbeat filling the air with its morbid melody). “W-Who are you? What do you want?” Probably the same thing he had, but he doesn’t give rise to that thought. If he had the backbone to do much else other than force out defensive questions, he would have; anger as cold as the snow welling up in his muscles, but it’s as dead and lifeless as he is.     

[absqxatulate-blog]

pueravem: 

OK so, he hadn’t gotten the name quite right. If it wasn’t Casper… then Jasper, maybe? Or he was entirely on the wrong track, but Robin didn’t want to have to ask again. He would ask someone else to write it down for him later on, maybe, just to be absolutely sure.

He couldn’t help that his heart skipped a beat when the other moved forward and reached for him. Or that he let out a little gasp, or took a step back of his own. It almost seemed like he was trying to intimidate him - or threaten him, perhaps? - but once again, it was hard for Robin to tell.

“It’s… nothing,” he said after a moment. The way Jasper had reached made it obvious enough what his goal had been, but the tactician was going to try his best to keep him from getting much more than he’d already had. “It’s just a little cut, that’s all. I was… about to take care of it myself. Nobody else has to get involved.” There, that was about as blunt as he could be without coming across as blatantly rude. If Jasper continued to push it…. well, Robin wasn’t entirely sure what he would do. He wasn’t about to run out on the guy for being curious. Maybe if he kept pushing, the best thing to do would just be to show him, after all - but Robin was still hoping it wouldn’t have to come to that. “Sorry,” he added after another few seconds of awkward silence.

|| ☀ ||

     Little did the tactician know that Jasper could actually hear the missing drum of his heart when he had moved into his personal space in addition to the meek gasp that slipped out in unison (it’s a bit endearing that the man in charge of the more strategic parts of the warfare was so easy to fluster, and he’ll keep that knowledge tucked away in the back of his pocket for whenever it so happens to come in handy). He shrugged off the other’s stumble back; it doesn’t come as a surprise when he’s close enough to lean in and physically lick him instead of just off-handedly threatening to do so (and Robin was wandering dangerously close to the water’s edge as far as Jasper was concerned with how unwilling he was to reveal the wound he knew full well the other man couldn’t have been clueless to his knowledge of its existence). Luckily (unfortunately for Robin), he had the patience to play this game. 

       “Oh?” he purrs, slowly slotting his tail into the meager space between them to its soft tip under the tactician’s chin and dragging it along Robin’s chest before wrapping its form about the other man’s waist. “What’s ‘just a little cut’? It’s not nice to keep secrets. Liars, after all, are an infection that need purging.” He’s not entirely sure if his wording will come across to the other man, but he’s not merciful enough to let this slide either. Robin’s insistence is, frankly, only egging him on more, and he leans to see if the other will let him get close enough to playfully tap their foreheads together, or if he’ll try to wiggle out of his grasp. He might only have a single tail in this form, but it’s plenty strong enough to keep a grown man pinned against him if he truly harbors the desire to keep them rooted. 

        “If you’re truly sorry, you should make more of an effort to avoid doing anything that would need an apology in the first place. Right?” He inclines his head to the side, fluffy ears rolling with the motion. “So, are you going to ruin your sleeve or are you going to get that treated - properly. If not, well, then I guess I’ll just have to see how much you can can take before it gets unbearable.” He tiptoes his tail up Robin’s back; tickling its tip against the back of the tactician’s neck.  

[absqxatulate-blog]

{ Starter call! Give this post a like, and I’ll write us up a starter! Length will vary, and expect me to be slow! Feel free to hit me up if you want to plot! Specify muse by replying to this post! }

[absqxatulate-blog]

afhimr:

        ❛ Ah  .  .  .  I  see  .  .  .  You  must  be  loved  by  this  forest. ❜

                Warm  comes  to  make  a  home  ,  a  home  upon  her  lips  where  a  smile  pulls  ever  so  gently  ;  curiosity  is  drained  from  her  features  ,  joy  overcoming  them  in  its  stead.  Slowly  &  carefully  ,  she  moves  to  kneel  ,  finger  tips  reaching  out  to  softly  touch  the  grasses  of  the  earth  once  below  her  feet.  After  a  few  seconds  ,  she  turns  her  head  up  to  the  one  before  her  once  again  ,  her  smile  almost  seeming  to  attempt  to  go  from  ear  to  ear  ;  her  joy  almost  seeming  to  manifest  itself  in  a  glow.  

        ❛ It  makes  me  happy  to  see  someone  loved  by  nature.  I  apologize  if  I’m  assuming  wrong  !! ❜

                To  her  feet  she  stands  once  again  ,  bare  feet  shifting  slightly  along  the  ground  as  she  moves  ;  her  gaze  slowly  searching  around  as  if  she  were  attempting  to  memorize  it  all  in  a  mere  moment.

        ❛ I  just  decided  to  go  for  a  walk  ,  I  guess  one  can  end  up  anywhere  when  you  just  keep  walking.  I’m  glad  I  met  someone  though  !!  It’s  always  nice  to  see  a  new  face. ❜

                The  joy  still  glows  ,  her  person  still  glows  with  the  light  from  her  happiness  ;  perhaps  ,  it  was  a  little  silly  to  get  so  happy  over  a  simple  meeting  but  ,  she  could  not  help  it  for  she  always  enjoyed  seeing  life  in  each  new  person  that  she  comes  across.  She  nearly  came  to  not  notice  the  skill  of  her  people  begin  to  blossom  from  her  joy  ,  for  she  was  quite  used  to  it.  Yellow  roses  ,  that  which  is  the  flower  of  friendship  ,  that  which  is  ever  as  bright  as  the  sun  ,  began  to  bloom  from  the  white  threads  that  made  up  her  hair.  Her  fingertips  raised  &  carefully  she  plucks  the  yellow  flower  before  offering  it  out  to  him.

        ❛ Call  me  Solveig  or  Sol  !!  Would  you  like  to  be  friends  ? ❜

|| ❁ ||

       “Is that so?” he muses, ignoring how the vines splayed out about the forest floor slither around his bare feet; tangling around thin ankles and slotting between calloused toes, seeping around the lilies and amaryllises that have bloomed about his soles. He’s well aware of its possessive tendencies; how the earth itself tries to bury his feet whenever he makes to leave, and clings to him like it’s incapable of coping with his potential absence (and of course he knows why), but it’s almost endearing when the stranger words it in such an innocent, carefree manner.   

        It’s minding her well enough for the time being, but for how long, he can’t even guess; he supposes everything gets a little touchy with old age. And he can feel it shift as her gaze dances about them; hear it as it moves and breathes, moving looming oak trees back and replacing them with weeping willows that hadn’t been lingering in that path beforehand. It’s not strange for the forest to change itself when there are strangers lurking about its grounds, even if it had allowed them in the first place. But it happens in the blink of an eye, and in the same breath, he flicks his wrist, morphing it back to how it had been when she had entered (like a slap on the back of a child’s hand for teasing a welcomed guest). 

       “I have never given it much thought before, but I suppose that is a fair assessment,” his voice is airy when it leaves his lips, and his tone lighthearted to betray the memories his mind threatens to wheel itself back into (of course it loves him; he loved its maker). Absentmindedly, he peeled his feet from the vines without destroying them, like it’s second nature to him, and it probably is by now; every movement he makes careful not to impose upon the life thriving at every corner of the willy forest. 

          He imagines there’s more to it than just that, but he doesn’t comment. He’s never been one for prying, and he, frankly, doesn’t care much about her reasoning for coming here. The forest, after all, wouldn’t allow those with ill-intentions within its walls; she had been of enough interest to it for it to let her this far, even if it was giving him a headache with all of the words and thoughts lacing the grass and trees.

          “This world has a strange way of working, does it not? I am glad I could bring you joy.” She’s easy enough to read, with the way she glows, and how splotches of yellow begin to form on strands of her light hair. 

            “You may call me Ambrose,” he chuckles. He’s beginning to understand why the forest has been so tame despite her presence. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sol, and I would like nothing more than to befriend you.” He gingerly accepts the flower; not so much as flinching as its roots cling to his thumb; tunneling into his skin and finding a home in his flesh.                       

[absqxatulate-blog]

❝ I know this peace was never meant to last, but I could have spent a lifetime drowning in your ghosts. ❞   

/ Independent. Selective. Private. OC. Multi-muse. Credit.