entropynchaos

[entropynchaos]

This is his new eternal torment

Sits Artair down in an office chair and spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins himspins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him spins him-

@entropynchaos // Unprompted!

Help him

[entropynchaos]

"Ooh this is the MOST entertaining thing that has happened in a very long time! I will be taking notes! Side note, I am also afraid of horses now!"

[entropynchaos]

Lock's seems unfazed at first when Artair grabs at his hair and yanks his head down, a movement heralded by a cacophony of bone and meat shifting and breaking and tearing beneath his skin. His eyes widen when he's kissed, though. Somehow, he hadn't expected it. Not that he had any expectations really, but the little eye never ceased to keep him on his toes. It was magnetic. Oh how he wanted him, oh how he wanted to be him. But if they were him, he wouldn't get to experience the surprises anymore. Not like this. Lock's eyes close, and despite the kiss of which he returns, Artair can feel the grin growing on his face.

And the next thing he knows he's in the air, gangly too long limbs flailing before his back hits the ground. He lands like he's made of lead, and bounces like a spring. And oh how he laughs. He laughs and he laughs and he laughs, and every painting and mirror and door laughs with him. "Perhaps I wasn't talking about that, then! Don't you remember our real fight, little eye? For a fount of knowledge you certainly have quite the gaps in memory!"

His body begins to contort then, twist and turn and break in every way until he's on all fours, like a spider waiting to jump. Was that sensation a spider crawling up Artair's back, under his shirt? "Doesn't this mean we need a redo?"

There's an overwhelming surge of something through his veins, adrenaline that he's unsure he needs; Lock is close, and he's saying things, dangerous things, but he knows Lock would never aim to harm him without purpose. Probably. Maybe. He hopes. But the sensation is static and spiders that crawl just beneath his flesh and set his breath to quickened exhales. Lock's hands are on him and he's in his space and looks ready to hurt him, says he is in every word. His brain blanks out at the sudden dump of everything through his system. He can't read him. He doesn't know Lock's intent. Lock is saying those things and so dreadfully in his space and--

He grabs Lock's curly hair, and as it wraps like tendrils around his hands and arms, he pulls that long neck down for an upside-down kiss. It is intense and fierce, and it gives him several seconds to think and catch up-- though honestly he's just shocked at himself too. Still, he uses the surprise to his advantage. His hands reach for shoulders while still in the kiss, and clamp to Lock's own, before heaving his light, slender body over his shoulders and down to the ground in front of him.

"Th---that first time wasn't a fight!" He pants, red-faced and wide eyes. "You were coming after me like some shit from a horror movie and crawling all over the place! That--- it doesn't count!" He shakes a finger at him just to-- do something with his hand.

[entropynchaos]

When the hat is lifted from Butch's face, Lock is behind him. He always has been, after all. Hands with fingers too long and too pointed at the ends wrap around Butch's shoulders to hold him. "Oooh!" The sound bounces with giddy laughter. "My what a change, what happened to your fluster? Red does suit you, you know! Are you not still charmed by my forwardness and spontaneity?"

He leans over the other, so tall that he can hang his head upside down and be face to face with Butch again. Was that... anatomically possible, even? "You've got lots of experience with me, you know! Though it has been quite some time... I'm sure you've missed me though, haven't you?" He beams.

Butch can definitely sense something very off about this stranger; he can feel him in front of him and behind him at the same time, like a chaotic orbiting essence. Like a million eyes watching him from every angle and yet not all at once. He's never felt something so discordant tied to one single being before, but it's very reminiscent of... of The Other Realm. Was this guy a product of his past? One he had tried to forget? Now he's second guessing himself.

Butch's grin falters and then slowly fades, his eyes darting off to the side and a brow raising in uncertainty. He's almost positive he's never seen this guy before in his life. He's sure he would have remembered a fella so unique in appearance, so.... unsettling. Even the way that smile meets his eyes and nearly nearly splits his face is enough to make a chill crawl down his spine, but... but why?

Abruptly, his hat is pushed over his face, obstructing his view and he scrambles to push the rim out of his eyes and to adjust his bangs. "Wh--hey, now! What're ya-- how would I know ya? Yer fuckin' with me." He asserts, all the playfulness he had held in his tone before having diminished.

[entropynchaos]

"I heard somebody looooved ponies! So I hired this one to stare at you, you're welcome!"

@arcanescholxr

[entropynchaos]

"Is that what you think?" Lock giggles, seemingly unbothered by the statement. His head tilts, grin amused. "Oh tell me how you truly feel, little cloudy eye! I would never want to be you-- perhaps Artair, but not you. You don't seem very fun. But I still think you would be tasty!"

It's all fun and games, all joyful playfulness. All of the growing shadows and opening eyes, all of the staring and the seeing. All of it is fine. Until a blade slices into him, bringing forth a small spurt of what appears to be liquid static. In an instant Lock's own eyes widen, his grin falls and he takes a step back, hand raising to the surprise wound. He never stops grinning, the merriment on his face does not fade, even when it does. And he-- laughs, but it's a bit more stuttery of a sound than it should be. "Ahah-ha-- aa?"

He looks at this not-Artair, as if seeing him for the first time. He can see him..?

"What the fuck! That hardly seems fair, cloudy little eye! Don't you know how to have any fun?"

Artair does not laugh. He hardly speaks, advancing on Lock instead. The words do not seem to have any impact, green eyes locked on him like they would any other prey. The expression he wears is porcelain.

"You are nothing." He finally answers, flat and factual tone. "I would never be like you. I am not weak enough for you to prey on. You are just a human that could not leave, and a hallway pretending to be something that matters. Entertain me, at least."

Eyes open in the lingering, growing shadows, green and acid like paintings that come and go. They are all fixated on Lock. Artair swings his knife, but it is not where Lock is seeming to stand. No, because with this skill that isn't his, he knows the truth, and it cuts through the distortions of Lock like his knife will sever his flesh.

[entropynchaos]

"Are you nervous, Artair? You certainly smell like it!" The sound of his laughter fills the space, echoing and swirling around Artair as if it truly had a presence of its own. Lock is behind Artair, he always has been even if he was just in front of him a moment ago. Long hands land on Artair's shoulder, and a grinning face leans into view, eyes closed.

"I suppose I couldn't blame you, the last time we fought you were awfully sloppy! Do you think you've improved any? Do you think you could stop me from tearing you apart atom from atom? Stop me from devouring you whole, little eye?" His voice is so jovial, it's too discordant from his words to settle correctly. A long, sharp hand draws back slowly, looking as if it's about to slash or stab. The other hand is still clamped to Artair's shoulder.

"What are you going to do, Artair?"

ᕙ( •̀ ︿•́ )ᕗ

@entropynchaos // Challenged to a Fight

"Um." He's not really sure what to say, because there's really no way to predict Lock and what he's planning. Lock could easily mean it to be helpful--- but sometimes his idea of help was teaching you to fly by shoving you off a cliff. And he did seem to have a bit of a thing about being especially random lately, to a point of causing him some real stress just to prove he would? So this felt just as much as an offer for help and practice as it did a trap ready to be sprung.

".....Can I ask why you'd even want to?" He finally manages, tilting his head.

[entropynchaos]

When they pull back, Lock laughs and laughs, the sound echoing out of a grin so wide it nearly splits his face. He stands before Butch, no, behind-- no, he's definitely still in front of him. Most likely. Either way he's leaned down to see him better.

A hand much too long and much too sharp at the edges lifts, pushing Butch's hat onto his face. When had he taken it?

"My what taste you have!" His voice is high, chittering, and sounds endlessly amused. "Oh but you're hardly a stranger to me, don't you remember?"

❗❗❗

Send " ❗❗❗ " for your muse to suddenly and unexpectedly kiss mine. // @entropynchaos

Butch’s brows jump up to his forehead when out of nowhere a tall mysterious stranger plants one right on him! His face flushes somewhat when he finally gets a good look at the odd fella, albeit with wide blue eyes.

“W-Well—howdy, tall, pale, an’ handsome~ ya usually tha stranger smoochin’ type or ‘m I jus’ some kinda special~?” The demon blooded cowboy rubs his warm cheek, a cheesy gap toothed grin accompanying his words.

[entropynchaos]

Lock laughs at that! He laughs and he laughs and he catches his breath as the sound echos and splinters away into nothing. "You're funny! And might I just say that you smell delectable. Oooooh I have half a mind to just eat you up! Or I would, if i had a mind at all!" He laughs again, eyes closed in merriment as he rocks back onto his heels. His examining gaze never leaves the other. ""Mm, and is that a hint of light I detect? Or the absence thereof? Oh! My mistake-- of course it would be both!"

The grin stretches and swirls at the edges, Lock perking as if he's on the edge of his seat. "Do you intend to try to hurt me? My my, what a feisty little eye you are; even when you're all clouded over! I suppose I shouldn't expect anything else though!"

"Oh my! You're not very much of an Artair, are you? You're not even an Ahr-tur!" For devoured au? 👉👈

@entropynchaos // Unprompted

Artair observes him, no trace of anything on his face. He does not blink, his brows and eye do not raise from their neutral position, and the feeling of being watched seems to exude from his presence. The shadows at his feet are long, and grow like reaching fingers, the longer he remains in place. His lip is curled over the cigarette perched between his lips, and it puffs a cloud of smoke that exits his nose. Two fingers steal it away, but his mouth remains open, and he inhales a long breath.

"You taste like Cadence. But you are a hallway long meant to rot." Artair's voice is low, husky, before the cig returns, lighting up. It's all he says, but his eye is locked on to their form, and a survival knife seems to glide down the sleeve of their coat into a gloved hand.

[entropynchaos]

Spectral Cohesions

DIGITAL ARCHIVE

[entropynchaos]

Presses the pad of his index finger to his lips and blink blink blink's innocently!

[entropynchaos]

What Kind of Villain are You?

Pure Evil

You are unapologetically evil, you are likely just here for the drama and the theater of it all. You are selfish and cruel because you want to be, not because you had no other choice, but because you revel in the opportunity to do what is wrong. That's not to say you will commit every unspeakable act, perhaps you have standards and your own moral code, but by no means are you the good guy in your own mind. Those who have wronged you, no matter how trivial or petty the slight against you, will be treated without mercy and you will be cackling the entire time without a hint of remorse. You enjoy the most painful and twisted approach to getting your revenge. Above all else, you like to cause problems on purpose.

Tagged by: @townofcadence

Tagging: You =}

[entropynchaos]

Can I eat you like spaghetti? You look very slurp-able!

He laughs. "I'm sure you could certainly try! Most people don't enjoy the way static feels in their mouth, though! Though I would very much enjoy getting to eat you up, if you're willing!"

[entropynchaos]

So got any tea recently? You observe lots of things, I'm sure you have some delicious drama you could share.

"Oooooooh sure, of course!! I've got Chai and black and raspberry and peach and oolong and green and white and herbal and chamomile and reality and hibiscus and peppermint and there's a girl in a forest about to make a very poor decision with the fae and rooibos and a vampire kidnapping one of Artair's acquaintances and pu'erh!" The words come fast, the list unbroken, and then he laughs and laughs and laughs.

"And of course if none of those are of interest to you, I could always pour you a glass of what I've got in this teapot here!" He's holding up a teapot with his fingertips, it's opaque and shifting colors.

[entropynchaos]

got your nose!

"Oh my!!" Lock laughs, hands coming up to his face with delight. "Well I've got your everything else!" He pulls a mirror from behind him to show that, indeed, you are now just a floating nose.

[entropynchaos]

[entropynchaos]

"Ahr-ter!" Lock nearly snorts a laugh, as if he's just told the funniest joke in the world. He laughs so much in fact, that his hand goes over his stomach and he rocks back on his heels. "Oh you are a riot like this, aren't you? Ahr-ter." He pronounces the name like it's a joke.

"Oh you wouldn't know me, but I know you very well in a way! As much as I don't know you at all, of course. But I do very much know what I'm talking about! You're the one who doesn't know what I'm talking about." He grins, wider somehow, leaning down to tap the other's nose. "Hmmmm, call me Lock! It's the most real name I have, seeing as I chose it for myself! I'm sure you can understand that at least." He circles Artair then, in a way that seems too fluid, distorted almost. He blurs in a way that shouldn't happen or-- maybe it was just a trick of the eyes?

He laughs again, a little closed mouth "hm-hm!" kind of sound. "Are you sure about that? You can't very well trust your own mind you know. Did you know that it's very common for people who have trauma to lose lots of memories? It happens all the time, really!"

The more this person speaks, the less he understands. His... accent? He's always had that, always. And why does he know the name Artair if he knows him when he was ...different? Why is he saying his hair is different when it's been this color for years? Why does he pronounce his name wrong?

"It's Ahr-ter." He corrects in a mousy sort of way. His eyes are on the ground, the rest of him almost too nervous to move. The hand in his hair is barely a graze of a fingertip, yet it keeps him entirely locked in place. "I don't... I don't believe I know ya. An' I think y'don't know what yer talkin' 'bout. I'm t'most me I've ever been. But who ar'ya? I don't-- I'm sure I'd remember someone like you hangin' 'round."