discipleoflogarius - Tumblr blog

[discipleoflogarius]

An Archival Notice

As most of you realized by now, this blog is no longer in use. I’ll be archiving it, so it’ll remain up for my own use or, if any former partners wish to look around at the writing we’ve done, they may do so at a whim. It was a total blast playing Alfred, and I still love his blessed little heart. His muse will always be a favorite of mine, but I have no will to continue writing him.  Best of luck to all of those who continue writing for their old muses, and will write on.  -and, of course, my parting words; PRAISE THE GREAT MARTYR LOGARIUS!!!!!

[discipleoflogarius]

☨ h i a t u s ☨

[discipleoflogarius]

The fear that all this will end. The fear that it won’t.

Rae Armantrout (via thatlitsite)

[discipleoflogarius]

Ah yes, let’s give the madman the wheel. Also total shoutout to discipleoflogarius for being an absolute doll and being super kind when I really needed it- and for pushing me to doodle this. You’re a darling <3

[discipleoflogarius]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER.

[★] B A S I C S

Name: saber/sei Pronouns: whatever works Sexuality: pansexual, with a female preference  Zodiac sign: scorpio Taken or Single: taken ❤ Three facts: - i’m a junior in university, studying nutrition; i work at a health food store and it’s LIVING HELL rofl - i’ve got pretty bad generalized anxiety  - alfreds muttonchops confuse and frighten me

[★] E X P E R I E N C E

How long (months/years?): about seven years? i started collaborative storytelling with people on aim when i was in middleschool lmao Platforms you’ve used: chat clients, deviant art, gaia online, tumblr was really where things took off for me as far as writing bigger, serious posts Best experience: anything with emma because holy shoot judas is a fantastically written original character and it’s just a freakin total blast plotting with them also alfred/judas is kind of my lifeblood ship rn whoops shout out to the always amazing neon and tox though because they’ve both been really awesome to ooc chat with, and neon was the whole reason i came back to alfred as a muse, so trillions of my internet love to him when he gets back from his hiatus lmao

[★] M U S E   P R E  F E R E N C E S

Personality Preference: usually characters who are really devoted to their causes and serious about what they believe in? they have a DARN RIGHTEOUS goal and are adamant about others respecting their noble cause aka i usually rp zealots   Favorite face: what does this mean Least favorite face: stop Multi or Single: idc; if we think it works, it’s shippable, so i guess multi-ship

[★] W R I T I N G   P R E F E R E N C E S

Genre Preference: adventure, sexual tension rOMANCE, action [gimme them fightscenes] Plots or Memes: both please Long or Short replies: longer is always my preference Best time to write: right after work when i can hardly see straight Are you like your muse(s): hell no; i have about as much commitment to religion as a squirrel to nutshells- alfred would probably spit on me Thread wishlist: i’m craving something with my slowly developing djura muse actually??? but as for alfred i’m always down for any kind of thread- i’d love a good actiony roleplay where he teams up with a collaborator to take out a serious late-game boss though that’d be neat

Tags: i’ll pass; whoever wants to write this just go for it!

[discipleoflogarius]

Echoes of Rainy Days

[discipleoflogarius]

//you know i want the k

▌XI  ▌ ⇥  Collarbone kiss -Men were undone by the blood, as was foretold by the holy envoys of Earth.Regardless of individuality, all would succumb to its temptation. Sickness was but a rung on the spiraling helix of humanity- perhaps it was the fragile step preceding death itself. Why had he ever thought he’d be able to escape it? Alfred must’ve been a true fool then- a fool clouded by dreams of greatness. He dared to strive high, and he was thankful the Martyr above had struck him with such a weight that all he’d been able to do was plummet endlessly down.Judas was that weight. A force like a tempest of mystery, pain, hatred and faithlessness; so suddenly cast into the Executioner’s life. He was the serpent of the end, and Alfred was blinding staggering through his garden. Every blow he’d taken for the other man, every battle he’d helped him through; the blonde asked for nothing in return aside from companionship. The cooperation was tense, but it had worked well enough.And now this; the apex of it all would surely result in both of them dead. Dreams left unrealized- Yharnam ever darker.He’d known the Hunter was suffering, having refused a blood treatment after their latest skirmish with the freakish godhead known as Amygdala. They’d both been wounded something awful, but Judas insisted on striving onward until they’d returned to the city. Their cover was any empty building just outside of the Grand Cathedral. Alfred had noticed the rotting corpses of two Hunters in the square before they’d ducked into the doorway- he said nothing, but felt a nauseating pang of satisfaction at having outlived others to such a point.What was he becoming?In the darkness, his eyes followed the shape of Judas as he fumbled forth. The long curves and sharp edges of the other Hunter were illuminated with the ghastly orange and purple of the moonlight beyond the door frame. When he’d turned to face Alfred, he looked every bit the trapped animal; glowing crimson eyes were blown, bloodshot, and that sweet little bow of a mouth was twisted with that scowl he’d become so fond of. “Close the door.” The mused dark hair feathered beautifully, framing his flushed cheeks as if he’d stepped from a painted portrait. The blonde thought he saw a bead of sweat trickle down the other’s pale throat- vanishing into the grey of his collar. The very idea of something so human from Judas churned at his insides. “Alfred, close it.” The door was shut. Only a thin line of light managed to lance underneath, licking their ankles. The Executioner came forward cautiously, his height just barely below his collaborator as they stood side-by-side. “If we’re to keep on, you must use the blood.” He found himself saying so softly, tracing the profile of the church Hunter with his eyes. “You will not heal with rest alon-” Abruptly, the dark haired Hunter cut him off. “Quiet! I cannot hear myself think with your incessant chatter!” The voice was a strange mix of Judas, and something else. It was as if the blood was coming alive within him- disfiguring him from the inside, but it had yet to reveal itself externally. A strange fever mounted within Alfred then, and he found himself carefully moving that thick dark hair away from the Hunter’s pale throat. Judas cast him a warning look- an obvious demand to cease immediately- but the heat coming from this sickened body was spurring the Executioner on. Just a taste of the fleeting humanity, one taste would be enough–Lips pressed lightly against the darker Hunter’s jawline. They lingered for a second, moving lower with a brief swipe of his tongue on the heated skin. Instantly, Judas’s hands came up, presumably to push Alfred away- but instead of actually casting him aside, they seemed to enclose around his shoulders, forcing him against the other body in a tight embrace. Naturally, the blonde moved in tandem; his arms came around the addled Hunter to cup his waist. One of them growled. Growled, as if a mere animal. A rush of warmth moved lower in him, and he felt as though he’d collapse, were he not sealed within these arms. Yet he kept on, lips working against the fragile skin of Judas’s throat and lower still; tracing the path left by the saline droplet he’d seen only minutes ago.His right hand slowly trailed upwards, along the rough fabric of the church Hunter’s vest and leather trappings until he came to that damnable grey collar. The buttons easily parted, revealing the start of the long line that was Judas’s collarbone- unguarded by cloth, dampened by exertion, and entirely Alfred’s to claim.His head pressed beneath the red-eyed Hunter’s chin, soft curls tickling the bare flesh before gloved fingers knotted them in a fist. Whether or not Judas was pleased or impatient, the Executioner would never truly know. The tip of his tongue dipped in the small divot at the base of the mans throat, while the fever guided him into peppering little open-mouthed kisses along the visible length of Judas’s collar. He was aching to hear some sound of approval from him- some sign that this sin wasn’t entirely wrong.The angry thrum of blood pounded silently between them- Alfred could feel the insistent heartbeat only inches below his lips before he drew back, trying to look into those strangely radiant eyes. The hand still held tight to his hair, clenching and loosening as if unsure what to do next.Alfred took a step back, feeling Judas let him go without any resistance. When their eyes met, the Executioner pushed his cloak off his shoulders and let it pool below him. The blonde worked his gauntlets free afterward- gaze not breaking from his addled collaborator as he did so.May the great Martyr have mercy on them both, he thought, for surely this illness was no fault of theirs. 

[discipleoflogarius]

In the beginning was the Word. It sat on  your tongue, too  heavy to roll off it.  You redact it, over and over, trying to fit them into your  mouth and each time you alter the story. It is not your place to do this. You have kept the faith all this time but you are not sure if it has kept you. But when you finally speak, it is not your voice, but His. Have you ever had the voice of God inside your head? It feels like the Garden of Eden flourishing between your lungs, but the original sin is making it harder to breathe. There is a flood rising in you, and soon the world will be drowned in your exaltation. It will be agony. It will be glorious.

Madeleine C, and the Word was with God, and so were you (via ehhx)

[discipleoflogarius]

Send me 'I want the K' and I'll generate a number

1: Hot, Steamy kiss (too sinFULL)

2: Cheek Kiss

3: Nose Kiss

4: Forehead Kiss

5: Firm Kiss

6: Gentle Peck

7: Romantic Kiss

8: Eyelid Kiss

9: Jawline Kiss

10: Neck Kiss

11: Collarbone Kiss

12: Chest Kiss

13: Stomach Kiss

14: Kiss Along the Hips

15: Kiss in the Rain

16: Upside-Down Kiss

17: Goofy Kiss

18: Underwater Kiss

19: Forceful Kiss

20: Any of the Above

21: Then there’s tongue

[discipleoflogarius]

bloodarsenic:

♬ :    —-   It was true; Judas loved to overexert himself in the moment of the hunt. He believed it was a calling for him, to cleanse these foul streets. He may try a little too hard to be Yharnam’s savior, but he felt good about it. His physical capacity would reach its limit whenever he fell prey to slumber or exhaustion. Often, he needed to remember that a break every once in a while was healthy for the body and soul. Much like what he was suggesting to the Executioner now.

Yet sometimes, he wished he hadn’t been in this position. If these people were really worth saving, they wouldn’t scream names at him whenever he tried to rescue them from the grasp of a monster. Was it all worth it to risk his life?

He pondered on Alfred’s question, his dull red eyes fixated on the ground before him.

Eileen…that was a name that seemed to crop up quite often in his travels, though he’d personally never met her before. From what little information he could manage to piece together, she was a Hunter who preyed on other Hunters like Judas. In other words, those who have become addled with blood and seen as a threat to the greater good. But he was still serving the town, ridding it of the scourge as best as he could. He should have no reason to fear her wrath, should he?

“Only blood-addled hunters need fear her, is that not the case?”

The suggestion of a prayer sent a dark shiver down his spine. To give homage to and seek the strength of gods who had abandoned him. Both religions who had seen him fall to misery without a care. It was the same throughout the history of mankind—-a person under false pretenses to lead the way into ‘salvation,’ when all it did lead to was ruin and despair. Truly disgusting. Why would he pray to the gods here and now? Why should he?

Judas looked up at Alfred, wearing as best of a pleasant demeanor as he could. His scarlet bright eyes lit up, but with a sort of strange apprehension. “A prayer…yes, that does sound like a good idea.”

☨; ⇀ The fracture in his demeanor was lost to the other man. Alfred was totally absorbed in the idea of having a partner in prayer; it was likely that even if Judas were scowling while he agreed, there would’ve been no hesitation. It was like this even when the blonde was young- no matter how much his peers protested acts of devotion, he knew faith was the ultimate pillar. To have access to faith was to have your soul open to hope, and that was the key to salvation in these trying times. Rapidly, he felt as though his own hope was fading. Fear and anxiety seemed closer to the surface- now more than ever, he was afraid of losing himself to the scourge. He worried over the tainted blood, worried one day he’d become the victim of some such addled monster who’d once been a man. That snake seemed to be even more foreboding when it appeared as some impending doom; the prophecy of death inching closer still. Alfred simply would not accept death, however, until the damned scourge Queen was a pile of entrails on her marble floor. “Let us pray; surely that’ll provide a well overdue respite!” He’d come to lean beside Judas, offering the recovering hunter his arm to help stand if need be. “Though I do think we should do it on the upper floor. Concentrating on prayer is difficult when one is also playing sentry.” The blonde curls bounced as he gestured his chin toward the gaping doorway. They had no means of preventing something from wandering in, if it so chose. Alfred would’ve suggested they go back to his altar for prayer, but the walk would be quite strenuous at such a distance. The upper floors seemed a reasonable substitution, and with some doors to give a touch of privacy to the sacred actions which they’d perform.

◖ snake ≠ venom ◗

[discipleoflogarius]

Always be kinder than you feel.

Unknown (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

[discipleoflogarius]

bloodarsenic:

♬ :    —-   He accepted the pieces of cloth with an earnest smile and immediately went straight to work patching up his arm. The pain was mostly dulled by the blood injection, making it easy to press the fabric against his wounds. He sat down on the floor and used his knee as support to wrap the white strips around his exposed flesh.

The power to dream had been lost to Alfred somehow, which was a peculiar dilemma. But not entirely unexpected. The passage of time would eventually dilute the contract, which usually seemed to be the case.

“I would surmise it’s likely due to your contract having expired.”

A hunter without a safe haven is sure to succumb to the onus of the hunt. He didn’t want that happening to his cooperator. Being alone in the most dire of times was a frightening thought.

He remained sitting, resting the bandaged arm on his thigh now. Initially, the visions of a snake didn’t seem all that significant until he had a moment to focus on its particular traits—-the black scales and ruby red eyes. He remembered staring into his reflection once, no longer recognizing what used to be a pale head of hair and clear pupils. It was the devil staring back at him. Was that what he had really become?

It sounded odd for the other man to have such visions—-almost prophetic in nature, if he was being honest with himself. Maybe it was the unconscious at work trying to unravel his friend’s underlying feelings of the ‘Church Hunter.’

Judas gazed back at the Executioner’s eyes, pupils as clear as his had once been. His lips unconsciously spread into a faint smile. “You must be trying too hard…why not take a break to relax from the stress of the hunt?”

☨; ⇀ Angry red gouges vanished beneath the crisp canvas. Blood seeped into the fabric only slightly, as the wounds were being mended from the inside. A certain comfort came over the Executioner while he watched the wrappings be secured; his collaborator was finally safe. At least, as safe as one could be on the night of a Hunt. True safety was a thing of fiction- nobody was free from the wrath of the addled, the beasts, or the Vileblood horde. The blonde felt even less so, now that his ability to access the dream had been severed. “I understand.” He’d replied when Judas concluded, though at the same time he felt this simply could not be the true case. “Is there such a thing as trying ‘too hard’?” The smile he wore was in his voice, though he’d busied himself with peering out of a dusty glass window. The streets were dark, empty, and yet he felt ill-at-ease. It seemed as though there was something outside, waiting. When one of the Hunters stepped out of the building, perhaps it was planning to strike then. Were they easy marks in this prone state? Alfred swallowed, feeling his fingers twitch at their lack of leather casing.  “Hunters avoiding the Hunt must become prey of Eileen and her ilk, no?” Alfred was almost surprised he recalled the old woman’s name. He’d met her only once, and she had nothing but cruel words and a cold shoulder for him.  “What would one do to relax in a place such as this, besides...” His eyelids fluttered, though suddenly he seemed to be struck with inspiration. “Oh, Judas! I know!” His bare hands clapped together, the blonde came toward the crouched Hunter with an excited smile. “We could pray together! Prayer is quite relaxing, and it’d be best to ask for good luck on the Hunt, wouldn’t it?” 

◖ snake ≠ venom ◗

[discipleoflogarius]

bloodarsenic:

♬ :    —-   Well, how could he refuse? His own clothes must have probably carried some of the beast’s taint anyway. “Yes, that would be wonderful.”

A Church Hunter he still was—-at least in the eyes of this man. Judas swallowed the bitter sensation in his mouth. First impressions were always the most significant. It must be why he had readily assumed by the Executioner’s saintly image that he was affiliated with the Healing Church. If only he had known better, he wouldn’t have to keep up this charade. Still, it was a wonder Alfred had accepted his claim when he no longer even donned their garb.

“Mm…I apologize, but it isn’t within my authority to conduct such business. Besides, I know little of the procedure.” He truly didn’t, but had he the knowledge, he supposed he might have granted him the means of entering the dream. In any case, he was rather relieved that the Executioner didn’t seek his presence for the warding off of some terrible beast. He’d had quite enough of that for now.

“If memory serves right, I myself signed a contract in order to dream. A..blood contract, I should think?” The hunter vaguely remembered how the process was carried out on him. A droplet of Yharnamite blood, and the deal was sealed.

However, he was intrigued as to how exactly the Executioner was trying to enter it, and what sort of nightmares had sprung from his mind.

“Forgive me for prying further, but what are in your nightmares? I am simply curious.”

☨; ⇀ Hands went to work, separating a bit of the worn cloth and giving the piece a sharp tug. Muscular upper-arms allowed for an easy tear, and a second swath was produced soon after the first. The two strips of cloth were silently passed to Judas with a tired smile. He fixed his frayed garments absently, mulling over the reply he’d been given. “That’s unfortunate,” The Executioner began, “- I’d signed the same contract so long ago! Yet, the ability has apparently been lost to me.” In his heart of hearts, he hoped it hadn’t been lost for good. What could that mean if it was? A Hunter without access to the dream was the equivalent of a common man having one foot in the grave. A precursor to the end; yet, he had so much to do before death could claim him! “The nightmares?” Alfred sharply inhaled, shifting into a slow pace across the room. “Ah, no need for forgiveness. It’s reasonable to ask- after all, I did draw you from your great battle for this.” A finger tapped at his chin as if in thought, though he seemed to know what he wanted to explain. “They’re variant, but this last nightmare was far too vivid.” The blonde’s eyes focused on the frayed hem below him. “One constant seems to be a snake, black as coal; bright red eyes, like polished ruby! The monstrosity persists in my memory even when I wake. It’s almost as if I’d been ...cursed, or something equally foul.” Gaze rising, he looked into those peculiarly colored irises with a slight smile. “This snake is a bearer of bad tidings, I tell you; in every dream I have, if it appears, I am bound to die before I wake!” Then he shifted, lips forming a flat little line. “It’s so strange, I wish it would reveal something less cryptic about its nature. Perhaps this is an effect of prolonged absence from the Hunter’s Eden.”

◖ snake ≠ venom ◗

[discipleoflogarius]

bloodarsenic:

♬ :    —-   He was rather confused at the sudden displacement of his location—-what had happened? He must have rung the bell, but something about it was off.

Had he used another one to be beckoned? The thought suddenly became a more reasonable assumption. Indeed, such was the effects of sleep deprivation. There was no need to rush back for now, especially since he just happened to have found the person he was expecting anyway.

Just as expected, though, the blond immediately rushed to his aid—-as he promised he would. The hunter had his moment of doubt at the helping gesture placed into his hands. Blood, whether it was from the hearts of saints or from that eldtrich abomination, was to be feared. His injury was serious yes, but not fatal.

“I must thank you…a beast—-most horrid—-nearly ended my life.” The hunter decided to accept his help. Once inside the house, he laid down his cane and grasped the vial firmly, stabbing its syringe into the wounded, exposed flesh of his arm. He clenched his teeth; the culminating pain flooded his senses momentarily before ceasing. The blood miraculously seemed to stop gushing from his arm and he felt invigorated with strength again. However, the wound if left untreated would turn infected. Who knows what sort of diseases that abhorrent beast carried.

“Oh, do not worry. I don’t need another, but again you have my sincerest thanks.” His words were accompanied by a grateful smile contrasting the ominous hue of his sanguine red eyes. As much as the Executioner was concerned about his health, he fought the temptation for a second injection. The hunter straightened up to reassure his constitution.

“I presume you need my help, yes?” The other’s answer would confirm his speculation of whether or not he had indeed been summoned.

☨; ⇀ “If you’d like, I can shred the hem of my robes for dressing the wound,” Alfred was watching and listening, trying to form a picture of what’d rendered Judas into such a sorry state. “- I fear proper dressings are terribly hard to come by, but the air is rather foul to leave it exposed.” When the other Hunter inquired as to why the Executioner rang for him, the cheerful blonde immediately seemed to somber. His concern became attentiveness; the professional air of a Church-trained scholar helped straightened his back and square his shoulders. “Right, right,” Eyes glanced toward the doorway as he began. “Judas, you’re a Hunter of the Healing Church.” This was stated matter-of-factly, “It would be in your power to induce a state of dreaming unto others, so as to gain access to the dream, would it not?” The man suddenly blinked, squinting at his own statement. “...At least, I assumed this would be possible! Oh ho, could I have overestimated?” That cheeriness leaked back into his demeanor, though his eyes remained dark. “I wish to return to dreaming, as Hunters do, but I find each time I try I have the most peculiar nightmares.”  A few steps were taken as he moved toward the opposite side of the room. The discarded cane was carefully avoided, though his gaze lingered on it’s metallic surface momentarily. “This is why I sought your aid. I fear there’s not a battle to be had, if that’s what you were hoping for!”        

◖ snake ≠ venom ◗

[discipleoflogarius]

bloodarsenic:      

♬ :    —-   He felt utterly scathed. The days and nights felt long, and his breathing became shallow from the pressure of his body’s instinctive reaction to sleep. However, he kept his eyes peeled as best as he could, huddled in a corner as he held his bleeding arm. There’d be no rest for him now, not after what he’d just gone through.

In spite of his lack of rest, the hunter had remained constantly vigilant. Yet this time, he had slipped. For just a minute or two, he had allowed himself a brief pause—-a moment where he would let his eyes close. Just this once.

His dreams were chaotic and nonsensical, and by the time he had awoken to the sound of beastly snarls, he could remember nothing of it.

It hadn’t even been an hour before his scent attracted the hunger of a blood-depraved beast. Judas barely scraped by with his life. It was terrifying—-its red flaps of skin flailed despairingly for a taste of his flesh. He would have none of it.

Any sane person, hunter or not, would have advised him to go seek shelter in the Dream instead. He didn’t, and refused to. After all, the passage of time was different in the Dream. If he found himself returning to an even more abysmal state of Yharnam, he would surely have himself to blame for not being there to help.

Judas had run, not wanting to deal with such a monstrosity. When he thought he had found the comfort of a hiding place, he sat down in shame to recuperate. The trail of blood would surely lead the beast back to him…eventually.

Maybe he should seek aid. Perhaps the aid of a certain man he had met a while ago. If luck would have it, he’d actually be able to see him again.

The hunter pulled out a bell and rang it gently, its melodic tone bouncing off the walls of the room. He’d never really seen the man in combat, and couldn’t imagine what kind of weapon he might sport. If his conjectures were right though, he could see him wielding a huge sword of some kind, as did knights from centuries ago. Something befitting of his medieval-esque attire.

He waited for the wind to rustle and bring him someone, hopefully that kind man who seemed quite willing to help when he had first met him. When it finally did sound that familiar whistle, he instead found the world darkening around him—-a blur of shadows in darkness.

Then he awoke in much the same area he had been in, but standing now, his arm still red and profusely bleeding. Right in front of him, he found the person he had thought of.

“…Alfred? Is that you?” He laughed in his nervous relief.

☨; ⇀ The chipped white paint of the bell was absently examined while Alfred, ever patient, awaited a response. Nothing but shadows of other Hunters, moving in a different place in time, accompanied him on the narrow roadway. When all seemed hopeless and the bell was sheathed, a spectral beam of light suddenly materialized in the doorway. Praise the Martyr- his tolling had reached its mark. When the light subsided, none other than Judas stood before him. The man was, oddly enough, bleeding heavily from the arm in little red rivulets. Alfred gasped at the sight before clasping his hands together. How could one anticipate a wounded collaborator? Behind his eyes, the phantom snake slid wetly between the cane-wielders ankles with an open little mouth. Beads of red taunted him, droplets of blood from the wound framing the serpent as it made way up a leather-clad calf. The distant howl of canines permeated the air; with the noise, reality settled back into place.   “Goodness, it is!” The pale robes parted, this time procuring a small vial of blood as opposed to a bell. The blonde pressed the glass into the other Hunter’s hands, urging him into the house before something caught scent of his bleeding in the streets. “What’s happened to you, Judas?” Alfred’s back was to the doorway, eyes following the trail of painful gashes in the dark haired Hunter’s limb with obvious concern. They looked to be from a great beast; perhaps something which’d come from the depths of old Yharnam. The creatures there festered into huge monstrosities- yet there was rumor of an old Hunter holed up within the fallen city, guarding the forsaken from the Hunt.   What fool would do such a thing? The Executioner shook his head absently.  “I’m quite glad you’ve been brought here, anyway.” Lips pursed; his gaze meeting the crimson orbs of his cooperator. “-lest you’d have bled to death, heaven forbid. Should you require a second vial?” Best not to rush his question; that wound needed to be dealt with first. A dying Hunter was good for little else besides being bait for horrors of the night.

◖ snake ≠ venom ◗

[discipleoflogarius]

[discipleoflogarius]

◖ snake ≠ venom ◗

bloodarsenic ▮ ☾  ▮ ↣  He awoke from a dream of being eaten alive.  It wasn’t him, per say. The sleeping visions had him peering through the eyes of a massive feline; a lion, built as the beasts adorning noble heraldry. The muscles of the creature flexed easily, moving through the low brush without a sound. The goal it had, he had, was the elimination of incessantly cackling pests in his territory, hyenas. The dreadful mongrels were far too close to his den; so many of them prowling around salivating upon themselves, as if awaiting some immense, mangy congregation to take place. This lion grew so weary of their presence, of their sounds filling up the quiet night air! His terrible ache to silence them was insurmountable. Yet each night, more of the beasts came from the darkness. They laughed and laughed, as the lion suffered the audacious noise. Finally, he took his stand. As the chattering mass moved, the cat countered them. He could see a singular female packed in among the filthy horde, her coat strangely fair in color, though slick with oil and grime. Upon her head were disfiguring scars, as though she wore a mock helmet of her past vile victories. The lion prepared to go straight for her. Never mind dallying with the guards she kept! He knew his massive size would part a way easily, all he needed was a clear shot- Something then wound tenderly around one of his paws, startling him. When he found the culprit, the snake was already fleeing back into the bush. The lion let a deep growl bubble forth, but it suddenly quieted when he realized the grouped mongrel’s laughter had stopped- and his paw was numb. A pair of red eyes mischievously glinted, gliding through the grass into darkness as he carefully moved to follow. Pain lanced upwards from his haunches. He’d been bitten by the damn thing. Nervous, the lion backed out of his cover. His mane shook, thick curling gold bouncing as his tongue lapped at the mark in his flesh. Toxic, those snakes were. So terribly toxic. How’d one find him? Head lifting, his eyes suddenly met with the female Hyena’s. Her fangs were slick with mucus, body striding forward in an easy rhythm as she descended on him. It wasn’t her alone; more and more came upon him with jaws gaping. Their innumerable teeth tore into his flesh, ripping chunks away before he could even begin to fight them off. His last fierce roar died in his throat. Within minutes, the great beast was reduced to bones. Alfred’s eyes opened when the lion’s finally closed. - - - - - -   The Executioner was alone, seated on the floor of an empty room. The door of this house had been broken down by some previous intruder, and he’d come here for no reason other than to try returning to the Hunter’s dream with a bit more cover than the altar could provide. Of course, it failed; he instead suffered trivial nightmares. “Blast.” His bare hands rubbed at the sockets of his eyes. “I must still be able to...” The black snake of his vision slipped along the outside of his thigh; instinctively, he tucked his legs beneath himself and kept a hand clamped on the dream-wounded ankle. The blonde felt fine, and he knew that he’d not been bitten nor eaten, but... It had felt real. Particularly, those hateful little red eyes felt as though they’d been staring into his soul. Not the lion’s, Alfred’s. The eyes mirrored something; Someone he’d seen before gave him that same smug, disdainful look.  Perhaps a ‘Church Hunter’ would better know how to gain access to the dream. A white bell was drawn from beneath his robes. Squinting at the instrument briefly, he gave it a little tentative shake. When he confirmed that it did still produce clear sound, he stood and moved toward the open doorway. Once, twice the bell was rung. In silence, he awaited to see if Judas would be the one beckoned to him.