bloodthrrsty-a

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      𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐋 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐒𝐌... quite a bit. their sparring sessions were far and few between for a reason. but he enjoyed each one- felt in a way like bonding with a brother. or at least what he assumes that might be like. memories of his sister have begun to slip from him. and he is, shamefully, more accepting of his failing memory than he really ought to be. mathieu's crusade, and the little family he's found here have made the second loss easy, made it hurt less.

the hunter's weary gaze draws slowly to his hands, expression neutral, then back. he has never considered really hurting him- but in the moment he does. wonders how well the little paladin might do without an arm, a leg. ' best two of three ' allowing it to sit in his mind, silent as though he's uncertain of whether he's got the time. when in reality he might like more than that. is he even capable of feeling fear? " mmm you can you use anything you want. you know i don't mind. " there were ways out of such tricks. he will manage as he has in the past. " but, how about we go until one of us taps out instead? until you think you can't go anymore. "

when they weren't send out on hunts elias would either read through the order's spell books or sleep. today was the former: dreading the fact he'd have to brush up on some, in the order priests words, simple spellwork. it was tiring, academics had never been his strongest point, however executing intricate plans apparently was. an enigma. a loud, arrogant, laid-back enigma elias fleet was. therefore when cecil suggests they spar a bit the cleric looks up, question forming upon lips before it was replaced by his own need for distraction. a grin. wide and unrestrained. ❝ don't get me excited for nothin' ! ❞ with a loud sound does his chair fall backwards, body already standing as gloved hands rest upon the table surface. eyes are aglow with a kind of childish delight.

❝ you can bite as hard as you want. i'll heal myself, i mean i am the order's best healer after all. ❞ he was most certainly not but if he believed it enough then surely it would weave itself into reality. ❝ best two out of three rounds ? i promise i won't use any kind of binding magic unless you're into that. ❞ wild smile, a sparkle within eyes that could rival the sun, if there was one, and the depraved desire to engage in friendly bloodshed.

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Good hunter

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toxic shipping stuff going around i need to be clear;

shipping with cecil is always going to be toxic. like it's literally impossible to manage anything else, when all he can think about is turning into a monster and eating his loved ones. and it doesn't help that his personality is pretty shitty. he's selfish, he's disconnected, and often times pretty indifferent. and he can't be fixed. you either have to learn to live with it, accept it, or leave him. he can be affectionate, he can enjoy affection. but in the end he is like ... barely human. so.

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ohhh im sick im unwell, ,, jem is tryna kiLL me

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BLOODBORNE - 1 / ∞

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cecil... oh cecil... comes here to sprinkle him on ur blogs a lil

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Oh Amygdala, oh Amygdala… Have mercy on the poor bastard.

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       𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑 to move, to do something. he hasn't been sent on a hunt in a several days. hm. but he doesn't question it of course, he only waits for the word. for when he is called to hunt again. gloved fingers tap along the surface of the table they're at. then his brow's furrow slightly. " elias. do you want to practice a bit? promise i wont bite too hard. " a jest. he wont be taking any other form than this one for anything like this. and, really his ask shouldn't be too terribly odd. it isn't all that unprecedented for cecil to wish to spar. to burn off his excess energy. " i'm bored... '

@unende ( elias ) / sc

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man i... i love shipping so much. and cecil is no exception to this; i want to open him up for shipping more. but i know he is REALLY not everyone's cup of tea.

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         𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 as he continues to drink. and with every passing cup, cecil feels his beastly urge begin to sleep. it is much easier this way, trying to keep it quiet with blood often times has the opposite effect. a greedy thing; it'll never stop, till it's finally turned him for good. and at times he considers allowing it. it's what his precious mathieu likes, isn't it? though they claim to enjoy both man, and beast, he knows deep down which it is his divine master favors. and in turn it has made him despise this rotten blood just a little less.

" why do you insist on being so good? " he asks, suddenly. his curiosity isn't out of spite, and he's clearly not mocking him. if he was cecil would sound much harsher in tone, and he'd say much crueler things... he's never been one to bite his tongue.

" decent. i mean. " slumped within the comfort of his seat, expression barely visible from beneath his hat. " you're much more like what's expected of us. "

@unende ( mika )

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❛ are ya tryin' to get us in trouble? get yer ass out of sight, ya fool. ❜ / i think they bicker for fun <3 ( fandomless verse )

𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐋'𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 for stealth, really. what's the point when it comes to creatures like these? oh so they're timid, careful, he thinks. though his face remains neutral, as he stares boothill down. the brim of his hat casting half his expression in dim light. and it is only once the other has chosen their position, that cecil chooses to invade his space. to lean close, using the strange trick weapon in his hand as a crutch to keep his balance. " no reason to. " his voice is deep, low, a rough edge to it. this is just how he is; bitter, the subtle aroma of liquor clinging to him. despite how many hours it's been since he'd last drank anything.

it is hard to tell by the look of him; but he's been hunting for longer than he himself, has been alive. complicated, isn't it? stuck in limbo, trapped in a timeless repeating loop- for who knows how long. all to entertain the whims of a cosmic entity that he didn't ask to meet. and hopefully he would never have to meet it again. there's no point in trying to dig up something that abhorrent. no point. it wont fix him. " if it makes you feel better, then how about you come in after i've got their attention... "

finally he steps back.

they look precisely how he thought they would. and cecil cocks his head slightly to one side, clearly amused by the delay in their hunt. " but if something happens, that you did not plan for. i want you to leave. " they've yet to see him at his worst, drunk on blood, and desperate for more. he prefers to keep that part of him under lock and key when he can. not many people react well to see him torn asunder by the beastly shape that's nested in his ribs. and for a moment, cecil's dull gaze drifts to the non organic parts of boothill's body. yeah. i've eaten worse...

" if that won't work for you. then i'll handle this myself. "

unprompted

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ok actually; heres a STARTER CALL !! specify who for if ur a multi, might pester people for plotting.

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       𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 for his mind to settle itself. the abhorrent, beastly nature at his core fights it. claws gripping firm, only to be shoved back down. but each time it grows more difficult, makes him work for it. and it is his satiated hunger that makes the process less painful for him this time. instead, he feels warm, and dull and openly fond of the hands that guide him to his seat. clinging to the other, despite how much worse it makes them. disgusting... it feels like syrup now, and to him it tastes almost as sweet. it's all a bit like when he drinks too much, drowns himself in warm liquor, so he can ease the whispers that tempt him so often. 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 ! 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐒-- not yet.

mathieu helps too; lulls him, comforts him. braces him just when he fears his beastly blood might be too much. humming a low note in response, as he feels the weight of his coat around his shoulders. it's all soaked through, everything. but this is nothing new between them. this, this and more.

" hmm... "

time rolls between him, and his companion, like waves. leaning into the hands that hold his face, gaze drifting shut. weary weary weary- torn immensely between drifting off, or turning his head. just enough that he might be able to press his tongue between his fingers. to further sate himself with the blood there. he does neither though, as if in limbo, as the hat is placed atop his head. an iconic accessory of the hunter, surviving many hunts- as it will countless more to come.

and it is only a moment later, that he is scooped up within his arms. effortlessly despite his weight. home... what does it make this then? would it be too horrible to consider it domestic? sweet? oh, he likes them so much. grateful for everything they've given him. " are you going to bathe me yourself? " voice rough, terribly so, raw from shrieking and gorging himself on meat. really, does he even need to ask something like that? " ate too much- you'll have to anyway. or i may fall asleep and forget to. " a jest, as he leans enough to tuck his face nearer to their jaw. like a dog seeking more attention that's being given. hmm, he might... he should...

the hunter exhales a heavy breath then,  followed by a subtle, lazy shift in dependable arms.  so he can finally give in, and swipe his tongue in a slow drag against their cheek. he's done worse, they both have.  " course i could always eat more. as vile as you say they are, they taste so good. "

white. stark white. the blinding color of the ordum paladin's uniform. gold emblem blazing in the endless dark. color of a sun that had disappeared from the skies centuries ago and now only remembered by it's one splendor light. once pristine clothing now stained in the gift left behind by none other than the one other members of the order called: his hunting dog. mathieu's attack dog. the beast among the hunter knights. from head to toe, from black boots to gold lined collar ━━━ red reigned. the stench of death sits heavy within the air. within the distant wind one could almost hear the howling of the souls that had lost their lives today, of curses hurled into the sky, demanding divine retribution but it would be all for naught for mathieu was divine retribution itself. a holy creature puppeteering an organization who didn't know they were strung along. their teachings all from the hand of a celestial being that had found this land and claimed it as their own.

with eyes closed he reveled in the way smooth tongue glides across face, traveled across it's lips, nose and smoothly finished right above brows. he didn't expect the beasts tongue to be this smooth, this pleasant upon the skin and when he smiles lips meets the downwards travel of snake tongue &. own meets bloodied muscle for a brief moment. enough to taste the blood of slaughtered vampires, of saliva from their pup ━━━ of dead flesh and mathieu swallows, swallows and savors every drop. it's intoxicating: death quite simply is but the terror and horror that goes along with decimating a whole clan of those disgusting creatures, those impure bugs, it lit up a flame deep within core. perhaps he should be taken right here by his beast, upon ground sullied by the blood of creatures that were no better than bugs, sniveling rats. find delirious ecstasy upon their morgue.

to feel the grip of monstrous claws upon bare form, have those teeth travel across the expanse of his holy body, that venomous tongue lather him in blood, be fed the remnants of what the beast had eaten. underneath the overcast sky upon the grave of those meant for slaughter he should be worshiped and sullied, taken: he should be simply taken. divine intervention in it's most virtuous form. perhaps another time. for now he feels cecil shake in his arms, shift, feels bones and flesh enlarge. and then it all erupts in a spectacle of blood and gore, cascading across the angel, washing over him as if he were being baptized ━━━ reborn once more.

red, red and more red . everything was red and he only laughs delighted. cares little for the remnants of flesh that cling within silky (now wet) locks. it can feel cecil cling tighter to them, fold himself into their hold and it's a sticky mess all over. glued together in the aftermath of a horrific slaughter. ❝ cecil. ❞ slowly does the celestial creature pull away if only to gently guide the man into a slumped seated position. this way mathieu could remove the coat he wore over uniform to drape across bare shoulders, pulling it over hunched over form. the seemingly gentle action a jarring contrast to the horrific scenery. for how dare he who ordered such a thing act in such a way ? no one ever said that divinity was fair.

stained gloved hands briefly cup cecil's face within palms. his weapon and shield. gaze is then cast across the square looking for something and when it seemingly finds it, it arrives to them with a tilt of their head. the hunter's hat; which they place upon the man's head. ❝ much better. ❞ it's graceful and without much effort does he pick up the cursed beast. balancing him easily within strong arms. molten gold stares down intensely at cecil. always the judge, jury and executioner they were but that had slowly changed by the acceptance of an exiled hunter into their midst. their word, their law and every death sentence that passed lips where carried out by the one who had become their new executioner. at that thought he hums, grip upon the other tightens. ❝ let us go home and get you cleaned up properly. as enticing as you might look like now i rather remove every disgusting trace of those clan of inbreds from your skin. ❞

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just some ??? random thoughts about cecil

cecil drinks a lot during his down time. he can drink more than a regular person might, without fear of alcohol poisoning. and, without fail, cecil is always a very mellow, very chill drunk. he isn't over the top, he's difficult to anger, and he gets all sniffly and tired. it's primary purpose to to numb his mind so he doesn't have to hear the old blood whisper to him. despite how much he drinks, cecil never gets sick, and rarely has hangovers. hm. odd.

he does ALSO have a gun, it's a pistol- specially designed with the fact cecil needs it for quickdraw use in mind. ( it's the evelyn ,,, in game i use this for pvp and parrying enemies a lot when i can ). though he will usually just use his trickweapons; which do carry over into all my verses. how could they not. i love them. he uses the chikage the most- followed VERY closely by the boomhammer & beastcutter. but like,,, i use all kinds of weapons, ive been playing bb since 2016.

no. he doesn't want to seek out the entity that cursed him. he doesn't care, and honestly it terrifies him. he's so scared of it, he wants nothing to do with it anymore. cosmic / eldritch entities make him violent.

the ribbon he keeps on his person is very VERY important to him. it's a soft silk ribbon, that belonged to his sister. if asked about it, he wont even acknowledge you asked. like it's something he's really shut off about- and will probably never share with anyone. somehow, despite the bloodshed, cecil always manages to keep this ribbon in tact and really quite clean.

i'll have to do some clearer sketches; but cecil's got scars on his face that are very hard not to notice. as well as a few on his right shoulder, and down his back. of course being what he is, and doing what he does- he has plenty more here and there. but these are the most prominent.

long tongue. deep, almost black blood.

anyone who's sensitive to stuff like... demeanor, body language, general aura and feel of a person,, will be put off by cecil. he isn't necessarily as sour or rotten as he feels. but the old blood makes him feel intimidating, and very inhuman to those who can sense those things.

so, universally,, just like in bloodborne, cecil can....... heal himself, by consuming the blood of others. anyone's blood. and cecil's own blood can also heal people. but it is not advised. it's sweet, sickeningly so, and can actually... infect people with old blood and the whispers that come with it. whether you'd turn into a beast or not though really varies depending on the person. ( god i love bloodborne ) more often than not it will heal you- but it will also make you violently ill for a while.