deiscension

[deiscension]

Czeslaw Milosz, New and Collected Poems: 1931-2001

[deiscension]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄.   (   a collection of  dialogue prompts originating from alice in wonderland 2010. adjust as desired.   )

you have finally lost your senses.

this venture is impossible.

the only way to achieve the impossible is to believe it is possible.

that kind of thinking could ruin you.

the nightmare, again?

do you think i've gone around the bend?

you're mad. bonkers, off your head.

if you get frightened, you can always wake up.

doubt they'll notice if we never arrive.

who's to say what is proper?

to me, a corset is like a codfish.

i'm sorry. i'm tired, i didn't sleep well last night.

it's always the same, ever since i can remember.

don't most people have different dreams?

there. you're beautiful.

there. you're beautiful. now, can you manage a smile?

at last. we thought you'd never arrive.

[ name ] is waiting to dance with you.

i hope you don't think i've taken advantage of your misfortunes.

do you ever tire of quadrille?

i think you'll do best to keep your visions to yourself.

i was wondering what it would be like to fly.

[ name ], meet me under the gazebo in ten minutes.

but now you've brought it up, you have to tell me.

everyone went through so much effort to keep it a secret.

i don't know if i want to marry [ name ].

shall we take a leisurely stroll through the garden, just you & me?

what an odd thing to say.

i couldn't be more interested, but you'll have to excuse me.

i think i'm going mad.

i don't know. i'm confused, i need time to think.

me? but i'm not the one who's sneaking around.

i think i ... i need a moment.

i am not convinced.

how is that for gratitude?

who are you, if i might ask?

the question is, who are you?

what do you mean by that? i ought to know who i am.

wait, this is my dream. i'm going to wake up now & you'll all disappear.

that's odd. pinching usually does the trick.

did you steal them?

it looks like you ran afoul of something with wicked claws.

well, i'd better have a look.

i'll be fine as soon as i wake up.

what do you call yourself?

all i want to do is wake up from this dream.

i was obliged to kill time until your return.

we simply must commence with the slaying & such.

all this talk of blood & slaying has put me off my tea.

what happened that day was not my fault.

you ran out on them to save your own skin.

what's wrong with you, [ name ]? you used to be the life of the party.

would you like to join us? you're late for tea!

i'm not slaying anything. i don't slay, so put it out of your mind.

wait! you can't leave me here.

you're not the same as you were before.

you were much more ... muchier. you've lost your muchness.

it's not a pretty story.

that is not foretold.

i've been told what i must do & who i must be.

i'll decide where it goes from here.

i make the path.

i've come to you, hoping you would understand what it's like.

and who is this lovely creature?

you're too soft.

the trees seem sad... have you been speaking with them?

rest now. you've done well.

is it not better to be feared than loved?

i'm frightened, [ name ]. i don't like it in here, it's terribly crowded.

you're entirely bonkers. but i'll tell you a secret; all of the best people are.

that's better, you look like yourself again.

why is it you're always too small or too tall?

i don't take orders from big, clumsy, galumphing—

why haven't you mentioned this?

i believe this belongs to you.

i thought we'd settled this.

i suggest you keep a sword on hand.

it is far better to be feared than loved.

it's against my vows to harm any living creature.

here i am, still in one piece.

i would have regretted not seeing you again.

you know what tomorrow is, don't you?

still believe this is a dream, do you?

this has all come from my own mind.

i'm afraid you're just a figment of my imagination.

you would have to be half-mad to dream me up.

i'll miss you when i wake up.

you cannot live your life to please others. the choice must be yours.

when you step out to face that creature, you will step out alone.

nothing was ever accomplished with tears.

don't go. i need your help, i don't know what to do.

i can't help you if you don't even know who you are.

you're just as dim-witted as the first time you were here.

it wasn't a dream at all ... it was a memory.

the sword knows what it wants. all you have to do is hold onto it.

i know what you're doing. you think you can blink those pretty little eyes & i'll melt.

it is MY crown! i am the eldest!

sometimes i believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast.

so, my old foe, we meet on the battlefield once again.

you are banished. no one is to ever show you kindness.

majesty, i hope you bear me no ill will.

i do not owe you a kindness.

i'll be back again before you know it.

of course i will, how could i forget?

good lord ... are you alright?

i love you, but this is my life. i'll decide what to do with it.

i'll find something useful to do with my life.

shall we speak in my study?

perhaps you'd consider becoming an apprentice.

[deiscension]

Woopsie went MIA without meaning to! I don't think I'll be very active for another week or two; grad classes are starting again on Monday, work responsibilities are shifting, and I'm.... learning sewing and leather working(!?) But anyway, please take this post as grab-all interest check: if you're still interested in our threads (I say this like I won't be responding to them anyway LOL), would like an ask when I'm back, don't mind me kicking the door down with plot/verse/AU ideas, throwing unannounced starters at you when the blood moon rises, etc and etc

[deiscension]

@riwrite

drunk and in love and full of food i think only the torturer eel could harm me

[deiscension]

my workout

500 reps yanking your chain

500 reps pulling your leg

500 reps taking the piss

1000 reps winding you up

getting on your nerves until failure

[deiscension]

Chishiya doesn't know where this girl is going. What he DOES know is she won't be getting out. At least, not as the same person. And that's IF she even gets out anyways. The odds aren't favorable. Chishiya sits silently atop a wall, all shadows and light blending into the wall and the fog as he watches. IT'S A BIT BORING REALLY. Everyone does this. So he decides to intervene. " I don't know where you're trying to go or if you're trying to find someone, but you can walk that path a million times and you'll still end up here. " He remarks, lip curved upwards into a ghost of a smirk - like a cat on the fence ( which he is ). It's time for things to be more interesting. ( for the survivor AU! )

     ⌜◈⌟    ▌ ──  This is all a nightmare. A long and terrible nightmare she willingly walked into, but not the one she meant to enter.

     The nightmare she should be in: sitting across from her brother at some quaint lakeside cafe or another, able to look at assorted aspects of him ( sleek cellphone placed screen-side down on the table; fingers drumming as they always did when he struggled to remain master over his temper; expression not quite a frown but steadily arranging itself into one ) but not at him. He'll refuse to speak first even though he's the one who asked her to meet, as he put it, on neutral grounds. She won't have the faintest idea of what he expects her to say. I'm sorry for everything I said back then, most likely. I take it all back. Please forgive me, ge, I didn't mean it.

     The nightmare she is in: blurry memory of a town standing sentinel over her death march down the same street, past the same buildings, into fog like a funeral shroud, over and over. Everything familiar in the way people in dreams are familiar; mundane when further away, uncanny up close, Frankenstein's monster of known and unknown. Not for the first time, she slows to a near-halt, fumbles her phone out of her pocket and squints down at the screen. 4:33 PM. Text sent to an unknown number, seen but not replied to, 'i'm serious i'm leaving now you fucking asshole this is why i left in the first place.'

     Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, whether from frustration or exhaustion she doesn't know. She's quite proud of herself for not yet giving into the urge to collapse in a pitiable heap and start wailing for help. Though she supposes there really is no time like the present to remedy that. She lists over until her shoulder bumps against the derelict wall guarding the alley between a bar with boarded up windows and a sagging apartment complex--

     --and lets out a shriek that could have very well set her soul free of her body, all but tossing her phone to the ground in favor of clutching at the front of her blouse.

     "My god, did you want to scare me to death!? Th-That's no way to approach a lady all on her own!"

     She swallows, acidic taste of fear slow to drain down her throat, and forces herself to breathe around it. In through her nose, out through her mouth. It's fine. She's fine. He likely didn't mean any real harm. If he did, he would have let her continue on in this endless loop until her legs finally gave. Besides, who wouldn't lose some of their social skills in a place like this?

     'Qingxuan, have you gone mad? Just what sort of person do you think skulks about in the shadows? Don't listen to him. Keep walking,' common sense sneers in her brother's voice. For that very reason, she ignores it.

     "Sorry. Sorry, I haven't seen anyone in ages, and you just sort of... appeared." She punctuates this with nervous laughter that peters out as soon as she takes note of his smirk. Cheshire cat, her mind rather uselessly supplies. Ah. Well, he turned out to be a pretty okay guy in the end, hadn't he? She can't quite remember. She'd always been too preoccupied by the illustrations in her childhood copy of Alice in Wonderland to pay much attention to the story itself.

     Clearing her throat, she ventures, "Actually, I am trying to find someone. Have you... I mean, are we the only ones here?"

                                                                               ( @sharpsuite )

[deiscension]

does microorganism sus want to play marbles with microorganism sqx. yes or yes. (or the secret third option: also yes) (or the secret secret fourth option: opposite of yes)

@deiscension

' MGGH ... ' he does , of course he does , but was he really allowed to ? the last time he had played with his sister he had thrown a fit and then a table , casting its legs with a sudden bluster so strong that it had flown and crashed faraway like a kite . he hadn't meant for it to happen , he'd hopelessly shouted at the scene of the juvenile crime ; hadn't intended to take things so far , but there was no way to explain the sorts of feelings that possessed him in incredible torrents , such as his natural hot-bloodedness , or the growing sinkhole loneliness of the youngest takamagahara noble , or the passion of the moment that , despite such violent showings , he had sincerely considered both valuable and precious .

if he messed up here ... what exactly would happen ? would shi qingxuan abandon and start to avoid him like so many maids did , scurrying and hurrying while clutching all their silks and scarves to keep themselves from potentially meeting his eyes and being at the mercy of his dissatisfaction ? or would she start leering and sneering down at him with criticisms and busied excuses , the way his brother had decided to , at least in his own cold , lunar words , grow up ? after a moment he realizes that shi qingxuan herself was still waiting ; blinking up at him with the sort of innocent hope that he hadn't seen before , surrounded by adults and a court that only seemed to allow court members , not children ... and so the act of partaking in a simple game ends up feeling nigh conspiratorial in every way that thrilled him .

' okay . ' it's hushed , and his eyes haven't properly laid their focus on her until now , when his head nods and he says both louder and firmer : ' yeah . yes . i'll play . ' red kisses each of his cheeks , suddenly shy and awkward . his foot grinds itself restlessly into the dirt beneath it . ' --- but i wanna choose the marbles , okay ? they're supposed to come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and stuff , right ? so i wanna make sure we're playing with cool ones . and not because i wanna cheat ... ! '

[deiscension]

I log in. I spend two hours on a single draft. I flashbang my mutuals with unprompted asks. I make either a silly little post or I write a novella length dissection of one (1) thing sqx says in canon. I disappear for a dozen days and some change. Rinse, repeat.

[deiscension]

     ⌜◈⌟    ▌ ──  He speaks, and the skies weep as though to spare her the disgrace of crying too soon. Her heart, treacherous thing that it is, strains against its confines, first away from the terror before her, then towards the one person she has so selfishly wanted ( and wants still, because she never learns her lesson, does she? ), beats like a fist against a locked door: let me in, let me be, either kill me or tell me to leave but do not abandon me to wander this ceaseless twilight in which you are nothing but a shadow that disappears every time I look over my shoulder.

     "Yes, that would make sense, wouldn't it?" she hears herself laugh in that mortifying way she always does when scared out of her mind. And oh, how impressive it is that she sounds only entirely mad rather than utterly incomprehensible! That she does not simply scream and scream and scream! "What I know is-- that is to say, in my own experience-- I... I..."

     She knows what she would say a lifetime ago: Ming-xiong, don't speak in circles! Just ask me what you want to know plainly. We're friends, so let's talk like we are. What could she say to him now? What is it he wishes to hear from her? She, who despite all he has shown her, still knows nothing?

     Her gaze drifts upward ( yet another ascension she is unworthy of ), takes in the severe slant of his jaw, the downward turn of ashen lips, gaunt skin of a veritable corpse unable to rest in its premature grave, and oh god, oh god, it really is him.

     Her brother's killer. Everything she has ever feared, ever will fear. The monster she reaches for in bloodsoaked nightmares, crying for it to please, please help her even as it slips claws sharp as sudden death between her ribs. The man who, no matter who vies to claim consequences for which sins, she killed.

     Habit, as it is so wont to do, makes a fool of her. Raises maimed hand forward as though to fuss over errant strands of hair, prelude to asking if he's eaten yet ( he is hungry still, isn't he? ). Snatches it back, redirects stiff fingers to scratch the back of her head. Jagged fingernails reopen a half-healed scab, and how vile of her to bleed in front of him, even if he is none the wiser to it. She presses her fingertips against it to staunch, and it's as though she has pushed a missing puzzle piece into place.

     "To tell you the truth, my memory's not what it used to be, hahaha."

      In the distance, thunder rumbles like the warning growl of a great beast. She shivers. Doesn't stop shivering.

      "That said, I don't recall saying I was the one who was haunted. Gongzi, you're very perceptive. Or have we met before?" Here, she looks up. Here, she dares defy Black Water's final verdict. Here I am, she declares with everything but words, here I am before you. You can no longer pretend. Searing heat pushes against the back of her eyes, tears unshed blurring him to an inky stain. She will not cry. Not yet. She's shown fear before him too soon once before, cried before it was time for bitter weeping. She will not make that same mistake twice.

a ghost is an obsession. it is resentment tangled upon resentment until there is nowhere to go but obsession. life so desperate it refused to leave when its body did, rotted claws digging into and tearing the fabric between life and death and saying not yet, not until all is done right by me, and he xuan has always been stubborn. his becoming a ghost was not inevitable, once upon a time, but there was no choice in it. his heart, dead and unbeating, still bleeds for his mortal family, but the starvation for revenge for their undue deaths was supposed to be sated.

it was supposed to be over.

a god's head lies discarded in his manor, a bloody trophy he loathes too much to display. another god now walks the mortal realm, stripped of her golden divinity. yet another god's corpse lays decayed where it was falsely worshiped. there is nothing left for him here. there is debt, and there is hunger, and there is nothing to avenge.

he is not prone to fits of rage, rather tending instead to bouts of depression, but he had nearly torn down an entire wing of nether water manor when faced with the reality that there was no moving on for him. waves had crashed tall and angry on the shores of his desolate island, his dragons writhed in the dark waters in tandem with their master's turmoil, and screams of half - dead madmen echoed through haunted halls from their miserable cells.

it was not out of regret — no, nothing in all the realms can make him regret the murder of the water tyrant. the wet splatter of divine blood across cold stone, the splintering crack of immortal bones, all while the little sister brokenly calls for her big brother and best friend —

he is drawn to her. just as he always has been. inexplicably, like tides are pulled by the moon. centuries he spent in her glow, the void left in the space by his side making his world tilt at a different angle. he couldn't kill her. it would have been kinder to, he thinks, but black water sinking ships is not kind. ( ming - xiong, she had cried the name of a dead man, over and over, as though the recitation would bring him to his senses. not even in those final moments, when the thread she perceived as their friendship finally unraveled to nothing, could she have seen him for who he is.

choose me, he had begged in all but those words, before the reckoning had arrived. choose me, just once, instead of the thief and murderer you call a brother. he gave her chance after chance, a test she didn't know she was taking. how selfish is it to wish to hear his own name — the one they share — from her lips ? how selfish is it to wish to have both his revenge and her ? )

the mortal realm is no place for the dead, but he is powerful enough to pretend. he crafts new skins every time, to minimize the chance of recognition, but they're not skins he puts much effort into. they are all too thin, their skin pulled tight on their bones, skin too pallid and eyes too dark. traits of his true appearance he hadn't cared to completely erase. no one pays attention to the poor, gloomy scholar hanging back from the crowd.

why he does it, he xuan himself doesn't have an answer. he does not presume himself allowed to miss her, of all things, but maybe it's more a morbid curiosity. the person she is now is but an echo of the beloved lord wind master. where there was once the finest silk is now rough linen, patched and resewn where the old seams popped. her hair no longer gleams beautifully under the heavenly sun, now uncombed and tangled and messily pulled out of her face. she can't move with all the grace of the wind anymore, instead left to limp with her cane for support. and every time he sees her, he is struck by the realization that the life she has left will be gone in a blink. she is mortal. anyone touched by godhood cannot reenter the cycle of reincarnation, and in just a few short decades she will be gone.

so really, hasn't he killed her after all ?

but those eyes — they still gleam with all the brightness of a god, but he is far too cowardly to meet them, even as he stands face - to - face with her now. a ripple of understanding passes between them. she knows who he is. he knows she knows who he is. this is a reunion under the pretense of a first meeting.

   ( how stupid he is, to think she wouldn't know him when she saw him. did he want to be recognized ? )

rain makes the pieces of hair free from his disguise's topknot stick to his face like curling paths of black ink, his dark robes growing ever heavier the longer he stands unmoving. it does not bother him, the chill of water is unable to disturb the dead.

   " then tell me, " his voice is barely different than his own, though it hardly matters. it is not worth putting effort into something not meant to be used. " what you know about hauntings. "

the haunter prods for weakness from the haunted, the ghost torments his victim, the stalked does not turn to face the shadow that stalks her. but here she is. haunted from birth, but she still stands proudly before the horror that follows her.

   " a former god must have been skilled at ridding themself of ghosts. "

[deiscension]

     ⌜◈⌟    ▌ ──  "Don't worry, everything will be fine with me around. I've got a foolproof plan to get us out of here!" A quick glance around and Shi Qingxuan's eyebrows twitch in a way that suggests they may not, in fact, have a plan. "...Just give me a moment to cool my head and figure out where 'here' is, exactly."

[deiscension]

“Patience, and the Mulberry Leaf becomes a Silk Robe.”

indie mutuals only rp-blog for Nie Huaisang from MDZS ☆ mostly based on novels and hc ☆ mun is 30+ with 20+ years or rp experience

[deiscension]

Mary Oliver, from "Starlings in Winter"

[deiscension]

A Marvelous Munday Meme

rpc and writing edition, featuring positive based questions regarding experiences, tips, opinions, etc..

What is a positive encounter or memory that stands out to you during your time in the rpc?

How do you stay motivated when writing? Do you have any tips?

Do you have a writing playlist that you listen to?

Do you think you've made a positive impact on those around you in the rpc?

Is there a muse / character you found refreshing to begin writing? What do you like most about writing that character?

Do you have a process of approach when writing, or do you gravitate towards whatever you or your muse is feeling? Do you mind sharing what your process looks like?

Are you a plotter or a pantser (someone who wings it)? Why are you one more so than the other, if applicable?

What do you think your best writing quality is?

Do you visualize scenarios in your head while writing?

Do you prefer character development and relationships, or plotlines / story progression?

Do you have any famous or otherwise, people who inspire you to write?

Is there anyone you've met in the rpc who has made a positive impact on you?

What is a way in which you handle or acknowledge stress / burnout / writer's block?

What is a song that brings you joy?

As far as writing scenarios that bring you happiness, what do those look like? (i.e. slice of life, domesticity, etc.. feel free to go into detail!)

In your opinion, what makes a great story?

What are some of your favorite tropes?

Do you have favorite reading genres that differ from your preferred writing area?

What is your favorite part of being a writer?

What is your favorite positive trait or habit you have given a character?

[deiscension]

     ⌜◈⌟    ▌ ──  When that bloodless visage emerges from the dark like the waning moon from behind a veil of stormclouds, all Shi Qingxuan can do is gasp.

     Despite having spent all twenty years of her life haunted, Shi Qingxuan has never once seen a ghost. Oh, she has dreamt of them: disembodied voices calling for little Xuan-er to come out of hiding so they could play with her; rows of gnashing teeth eager to break her open and suck the marrow from her bones. She has learnt of them as well. Back when tutors were in regular rotation, her brother had gone out of his way to hire a Taoist exorcist to school her on all the known gui that might reveal themselves as her tormentor. Inked portraits of jukou-gui, xiqigui, yangui, gudu-gui, and every other ghoul she was made to gaze upon would follow her to bed and, if exhaustion could not overpower the adrenaline imposed by their various leers, keep her awake until first light.

     It is those unenviable experiences that color all her preconceived notions of how a ghost ought to appear. She has no reason to expect her preternatural guest to look like this. Like a portrait of death draped in midnight, dripping water as though it had stepped from the black tides just beyond the manor's walls, voice so worn she can only assume it was summoned from the furthest reaches of purgatory.

     Neither does she expect it to question her judgment.

     Blood rushes hot to her cheeks. Indignance is not an emotion she ever imagined she would feel when confronting a ghost, and yet it thrums in time with her thundering heart all the same.

     "And I am old enough to make my own decisions on what to do with myself," she retorts, amazed that her voice only trembles and does not crack entirely in half.

     Once the words are out of her mouth, Shi Qingxuan sucks in a sharp breath. Oh, she really is going crazy! Demanding a spirit show itself and then taking up an attitude with it. To hell with 'wretched beginning, wretched end'; if her own haunt wishes to be the end of her, it had better act now or forever hold its peace, otherwise she might just go and get herself killed instead!

     The edge of the puddle reaches her toes then, and she starts with a full-body shiver. She recalls her many nightmares of drowning. How they have done nothing but intensify since she took up residency here. Nightmares of sinking into water so dark she could not see her own hands as she clawed in utter futility for a surface she would never again breach. Of bitter cold gnawing first through her fingers, then limbs, then heart. Of her corpse serving as an exquisite meal for bottomfeeders and waterbound wraiths, her bones salt-heavy and crystallized as gravemarker for yet another poor soul lost at sea.

     Maybe those were not nightmares but ill portents, and this puddle will soon swell into an entire ocean come to drag her into its gluttonous maw.

     'Enough of that. I'm doing nothing but scaring myself. It hasn't done anything but answer you. Which is a rather nice thing for it to do, isn't it?'

     It is nice. This is the most she has spoken to anyone who paid any heed to her words in ages. Let this appirition think her mad. Let it think her callow, let it think her idiotic, let it think her delusional. So long as it deigns to speak with her for just a little while longer. Either until she runs out of coherent thought, or until her body buckles under the toll of forced bravery.

     Taking a steadying breath, Shi Qingxuan points out, "As lady of the house, it would be remiss of me not to greet my guests, en?" She tries for a smile, one once called beatific by doting maidservants. All she manages is a twitch that could be mistaken as nothing more than a nervous muscle spasm. Her lips refuse to take any shape other than that of a curious part. "Are you... wanting for anything? It is you leaving those apple cores about, isn't it? If you are hungry, then...."

     Then what? She would feed it? A bold offer, even coming from a mind as sleep-deprived and addled with outlandish suppositions as hers.

 It has been many years since there has been another soul that’s joined the creature in the manor. Many years where there was little to do other than pace, to stride up and down the long hallways as the earth slowly wears away at the outside. There is a hunger, one that grows in depth and sharpness as the years pass, the world continues to move and change outside the manor – stuck in time.

Once, many moons ago there had been families that roamed the halls, children that laughed and played. The parlor glowed with warmth as logs crackled in the hearth. Children that would tuck beneath fine, heavy quilts at night to keep the chill at bay. They were always the first ones to see it, peeking little eyes open as it made itself at home in their room. It would watch, with a twisting pleasure as those eyes would widen, little lips would tug down into a frown and the quilts would be dragged up over their head.

Sometimes they cried. Concerned mothers would rush down the hall to aid her wailing child, who cried of a beast, with glowing eyes and sharp jagged teeth. A creature that dripped salty sea water onto the wooden floor, leaving nothing but the smallest of puddles as it melted back into the darkness, to step just out of sight of vigilant eyes. A creature that would, as if inviting the braver members of the family to follow, leave a trail of wet footprints along the wooden floors, down into the depths of the cellar.

The last residents many years, mourning and lost, wailing that they should have listened to the rumors about the small sea town they had found their wealth in. They had lasted far longer than the others, nearly five years. The creature had watched as their babe grew, as it began to toddle around, to laugh. It had never shown fear, not outright. The child had looked at it like they saw the creature as it was, as a man that it had once been. With a kindness it had not seen since it’s wife had lived. They had smiled at it and it couldn’t bear it. One night, with the ever present hunger pains in its belly, it lured the child from bed with soft promises of candy and time to play.it had dragged the child, all too their death. The sea had once again swallowed another soul don into its depths the creature temporarily sated while it gnawed away at the meat, sucked the marrow from the child’s bones before they too were devoured, leaving nothing but a memory. The parents nearly went mad with grief. Though that may have been the creature's sick pleasure and doing. It would wander the halls in a new form, with youthful eyes and bell like laughter, always just out of reach of the mourning mother, to the cries of the child’s name and the stamping of feet as they raced down the hall. Perhaps it was cruel, but the creature was for from the kind being that it had once been. It could breathe easier now that the child was gone, it could rest in relative peace that it would be alone now, that no youth could come to it with pleading eyes, could try and befriend it, to search the endless hallways, looking for a friend that they would not find.

Now though, there was new blood, a new resident that called this crumbling manor a home. She was a lovely thing, soft hair and skin as smooth as marble. There were lights now, warming the darkened rooms, casting dancing shadows along the walls, where the creature melded into it, at home. It did not begin it’s hunt with fervor, allowed the woman to settle. It was strange, while she brought staff, they did not reside in the manor, they fled as soon as they were free to, none ever stepped foot into the kitchens. No guests came to the manor, the woman stuck here with no-one.

The creature put the burden upon itself, to ravage the gardens and the pantry, to put together meals that would suffice. To capture rabbits and ducks, to pluck the feathers and debone the meats with a familiarity that would have once been a comforting routine. It would be no fun, to allow this fragile thing to starve to death, it would not ease the ache in the creature’s belly, would not satiate the craving for flesh along its teeth.  The last meal had been so small, a morsel that the creature had savored greatly, though it did not last. It was intent on savoring this one.

It bides its time, allowing the woman to find comfort in her surroundings for now. There will come a time for fear, now is not the right time. The creature allows small glimpses of itself to be known, to tread heavily on the stairs for a melody of creaks and groans from the aging wood, to leaving an apple marred by sharp teeth at the seat across from the woman’s usual.

There is no fear, not outwardly shown at least, for the creature to see. Not while the sun shone through the windows and warmed the manor in it’s glow. Night is a different story however, where beasts roam freely outside – and inside as well. The woman surprises the creature, with her brave façade, when she crawls from the safety of her bed, down the barren halls, her own footsteps echoing off the walls. If the creature strains, it can hear the crashing of the waves against the shore, barely audible over the quiet patter of rain hitting the windows.

This is not the first time someone has sought the creature out, it thinks back to that last child, the joyous laughter as the creature led it hand and hand down to the cellar. This woman would not be so easy to convince, though it was not as though there was any the creature had to hide her death from.

It considers her request, long moments of silence weighing between them. The lantern flickers and the creature creeps forward, away from the darkened edges of the room. Just barely leaning forward to dip its head into the light. What is revealed is a delicate, cold face that a frown tugs at the edge of their lips, dark inky hair that spills forward, dripping even now.

Drip…Drip…Drip…

❝ And what guests would you tell?❞ The words feel foreign on the creature’s tongue; it’s lips curl unnaturally around the vowels and its cadence is off.  The sound grates the creature’s ears and it debates melting back into the shadows once more. It has done more than enough, let the woman wonder if it truly had occurred or if it had simply been a strange dream.

❝ They will simply think you mad if you did. ❞ Mad, but they themselves would not step foot into the manor, would not risk it.

Drip…Drip…Drip…

The creature sucks at its teeth, rolling its shoulders back as it steps forward, barefoot into the wet puddle pooling where its feet ought to be, pulling features of a form it had never known, far softer than its original body. Yes, fear was good, however too much would soil the fun to come.

❝ You are old enough to know that nothing good comes from wandering at night.❞

[deiscension]

Happy pride month I don't know what's going on with sqx but if you exist you basically have the right to get a kiss from them if you so desire.

[deiscension]

sometimes, when the light by Lisel Mueller

[deiscension]

jh before you kill sqx you have to tell her she's the prettiest specialist vampire ever or else she'll come back. do you understand. it's essential.