foretolds

[foretolds]

jxckasses​:

Link scrunched his nose as Tai laughed, head tilting as he looked back up toward him and shifting from foot to foot. “Savage? You make it sound like I’m a fuckin’ caveman.” He mumbled, glancing back at himself briefly before his shoulders came up, shrugging lightly. “I… Alright.” He let out hesitantly, “I guess you’re right, it can’t hurt… Just… I throw everything in the wash together, yeah? So nothing that’s gonna get all… fucked up that way. You look like someone who sorts their laundry.” 

HE LAUGHS AT THE CAVEMAN COMMENTARY EASILY. Head shakes, but it is not dismissed. He’s not wrong, of course. “I am a person who sorts my laundry, and.” He feigns a gasp. “Makes use of the dry cleaner.” He says dramatically, as if it makes a difference before grin returns. “Sorting your laundry could be good for you, Lincoln.” A small reminder with a knowing smirk offered before he rounds the counter, easily flipping the closer sign over. “Come on, before you have time to say no and my entire afternoon is ruined.”

[foretolds]

lenchante​:

“No - no, I’m genuinely curious, please go on. Designed to basically fill the…?” He was being genuine; Emile wanted to know the rest of the story. Even if he was bored by it, he hated it when people stopped telling a story halfway through. Everything ought to be told to completion, in their opinion, even if it is something as mundane as why tea sandwiches are called that. They handed over the amount that they owed for the book, then slipped their wallet back into their pocket. “I guess that’s true. It would be a lot easier if we weren’t our biggest critic, right? And some… power, or whatever, said no, people ought to struggle, so now we have to wake up every day and pay taxes while billionaires don’t, which is fucked up in its own right.”

THEY WERE RIGHT. Stories were worth telling, as much as they were worth knowing. That much was for sure. It was comical really, to take lesson from a human that most of her kind would have said had very little value. Perhaps that was why she was so against assumptions, and the sort of branded classism that came with that. “They were designed to be served with tea so that they would fill those having it, prevent them from eating too many sweets.” She laughed. “Frankly a tragedy, because ive had some cake worth suffering for.” She muses, before shrugging shoulders. The turn of the conversation earned Emile an appreciative nod. “You? You have a bigger story coming, that’s for sure, especially if you’re smart enough to know that capitalism is bullshit.” A hand taps theirs. “A very admirable quality but I will leave you and you ego as they are, I’m told it’s bad taste to feed them.”

[foretolds]

the-sacrosanct​:

Let you what? He wanted to ask, completely confused as to what the other asked for. If it wasn’t the picture frame… then maybe it was –

A light click, click, click of talons nails crept along the corridor behind him. Curious was she to see what all of the hubbub was about. 

Normally, Emil wouldn’t have an issue with the kipine’s general presence, because she always kept herself tucked away just out of sight.  This time, though..

This time he wasn’t so sure.

Emil rounded the corner of the desk to stand in front of the lady; drawn up to his full height without a a slouch. “Demons? You know about Jimmy, too? Listen, he’s not as horrible as people make him out to be… so long as you don’t get on his nerves, serve him anything below the temp of, like, a fuckin’ hundred degrees Fahrenheit, walk too loudly, sneeze too loudly– breathe too loudly..” His words trailed off as he acknowledged just how terrible the oldest resident truly was.

“Okay, so he’s pretty fuckin’ crotchety, but he’s no demon. Just a widower that uses his grief as a means to be irritating to other folks.”

SHE CAN HEAR IT, too. There is no mistaking the sound once you really know the difference, not to mention that thing holds a certain presence that will always rattle bones. A softer sigh, watching the way he purposely seems intent to hide it before giving an almost exhausted sigh. “Listen, he’s a demon and we both know it.” She places a smaller hand on her hip, giving him an earnest look before finally taking an entire side step to get a better look at the kipine, or at least try to.

“And.” She tip toes, still trying to see above or around this man for a moment before laughing. “What is your friend doing back there?” Salome asks the question but her face says the same thing that small children do when trying to swindle permission to pet a puppy. “You’re going to have to pick a secret to keep here because you can’t have both, either that one.” She gestures to the hall. “Or the everything is too loud demon.” Clearly, the woman has no sense of personal space and doesn’t intend to allow him the opportunity to say no.

[foretolds]

the-sacrosanct​:

A crude, airy noise left him in agreement. “Might as well have. Move over Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet– there’s a new epic tragedy that’s lasted well over an eon. Labeled something like Where The Fuck Are Your Taste Buds? or some shit.” 

“What’s the most offensive dish someone’s tried to make you eat?” 

BAPTISTE NEEDED THIS. He needed someone who shared his disdain, someone who understood what was going on behind the scenes. Someone, who would critique the ever living fuck out of these mayonnaise warriors. The question looks like it gives him a bout of practiced PTSD, before he is laughing. Maybe, just maybe, it’s one of the ones to keep from crying. “I worked in an office for awhile back in the nineties and someone’s good Christian aunt tried to say that the whole fruit in jello thing was delicious, and then had the audacity to add cream to it.” He pauses, nose rolled up in disgust. “Needless to say I spit it back on the plate and Gamgam Karen was pissed.”

[foretolds]

lvllabics​:

     Eyes watched as the piece was removed from her hair, and said strands were promptly tucked behind her ear. It happened to be more often than not that she ignored others when they so clearly spotted her — today she simply chose to go ahead and mess with Baptiste. YOLO, or whatever. “Depends,” Luci drew in a dramatic breath, head cocking to the side slightly, “what’re you planning to feed me?”

SHE WAS DIFFICULT. Truth be told, he liked that about her. There wasn’t the same boredom attached to their interactions, the same bullshit. Predictably didn’t hang around her like a bad after taste. Perhaps, that was why he even agreed to play this little game in the first place. Laughter echoed from between lips, head shaking as hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. He shuffled them back toward the door. “It’s finna be your raccoon brethren if you keep fucking around. Come on, bring your ass inside and we will barter.” He offers, broad shoulders shrugging. “Just, Oregon trail this shit.”

[foretolds]

fctedecidcs​:

“No. No. Not names — intentions.” If he were less comfortable, or maybe just less stoned, he might be feeling a little less spicy. “Affirmations, if you will.” The jokes wouldn’t come so easily, and he definitely wouldn’t be rising to the bait at every turn. “You ever stand behind a fuckin’ grill all day with your balls doing that whole fuckin’… what are they called?” Pause. “Newton’s cradle, but only two balls. Not a whole fuckin’ army of them.” New goal: never fucking smoke on the job again. Ever. “Me neither. Point fucking is, I’m a boxer-brief kind of guy — commitment issues. You look like you got your shit together, though. Means briefs.”

HE LISTENED TO LEV SPEAK. For a second, he could have sworn his head was going to tilt, and he would look like a dog that was met with a smell or sound that it didn’t quite understand. This man was out of his mind, perhaps having spent time before work buffing straight pine sol, or something. Was that a thing? He would have to make note to check. Regardless, the notion that Cain had his shit together was laughable, and boy did he. “If you had an army of balls, what would you call them?” The question is asked like both of them have now indulged in folie a deux or something. “As for boxer briefs, I feel like that’s a lie. If you like your banana hammock for support, you can say it. We’re friends here.”

[foretolds]

jxckasses​:

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do anything fun, I assumed you had an allergy.” A frown pulled at the corners of Link’s mouth and he shifted to sit, plopping into the seat next to Cain and pushing lightly at the dragon’s shoe with his own before retreating, crossing his arms in front of himself protectively. “It’s not fun if I have to explain it.” He wasn’t even sure where he would start, either, “Her face when I dropped down there, I thought she was gonna kill me- and I almost broke my nose, Cain, it’s exciting- that, uh, adrenaline shit.” He tried, shaking his head and looking up toward the other man, “Is that fucked up? That’s probably fucked up.”

THE WAY THAT LINK SPOKE ABOUT THINGS WAS NEVER BORING. He would certainly hand that much to him, making a small invasion of privacy sound like a high stakes heist. An almost endearing grin ghosted lips for a moment, especially when asked if it was fucked up. They were all fucked up, and he certainly wasn’t the one to ask about it, that much was for sure. A casual shrug was offered in response. “I suppose there are worse things you could be addicted to.” Hand waves. “You know, perhaps if you are going to continue to be so reckless we should look into making you a bit more...sturdy.” He muses, tilting his head when he looked at the human. He was gifted, yes, but still with all the fragile ways of the humans, and that; that could be a problem.

[foretolds]

the-sacrosanct​:

“Fair enough.” The lapels of her coat were pulled tighter once met with chilled air. A hum, drawn low and quiet, accompanied the next few steps. “The most over the top, grossly sugared out shake. I’m talking fully decked out with toppings, syrup– everything that my ten step skin regime will hate.”

THE MENTION OF FOOD, was unexpected and that is obvious by the look on their face. Romeo lives for surprises though, lack of predictability being a fucking god send in most cases. So, they simply tip their head both in thought and appreciation. “You’ve got it, now, what is the offer for when I win? Because, while I appreciate the shake.” They lean closer just to poke at her. “I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

[foretolds]

lenchante​:

This is perhaps one of the oddest conversations that Emile has had in a while. He assumes that this person - whoever they are - aren’t a fed, or somebody willing to turn him over to the feds for thoughts that were basically an expanded version of eat the rich. “I mean, if it’s arson, nobody gets hurt. And, yeah, I mean, why do people go to bonfires? The show, but also the warmth. It’s kind of fucked up to, like, want to roast marshmallows over a burning Maserati, but… there’s that. Symbols of wealth are, like… gaudy and ridiculous - no one actually needs them. It’s just society’s way of saying some people are better than other people because those better people have money. It’s dumb.” They shake their head, rubbing at the back of their neck. “Fuck society’s claims that some people are better than others solely because of what’s in their bank account.”

RIGHTEOUS ANGER. It’s been awhile since they have encountered the honorable sort of notion that still seems to attract a well deserved wrath. It’s humbling in a way, but also even a touch attractive, which was unexpected as a whole. Head tilts to the side, a silent bout of appreciation taking them over as they stand for a moment. Brushing off the thighs of pants before nodding a bit more enthusiastically. “You’re not wrong.” They finally manage, chuckling just slightly. “But those same people would include the hurting part without second guessing, and they have no problem fighting fire with fire, or shedding blood to protect that Maserati.” They poise the alternative before shrugging. “Remember that.” And, as if the conversation is magically over, like they have done their part, they then side step the couch where Emile was sitting and move to walk off. Granted, it’s another test, but Emile doesn’t need to know that right away.

[foretolds]

chainedxwolf​:

Fenrir just wanted to understand. He had adored Tyr and trusted him. Was prophecy more important than family? Friends? In the end, no matter what he said, it was still hard to truly be angry at Tyr. It was much easier to release his rage on Odin instead - who was no where to be seen. Probably off hunting any other wolf that could be a threat to them.

Still, he stayed tucked against the other and took in their scent - a scent that reminded him of his childhood and a much happier time. “Humans have it much easier, don’t they?”

THEY ALMOST CHUCKLED AT THE INCLINATION THAT HUMANS HAD IT EASIER. They knew better though, knew their son would not take kindly to that whole thing. Instead, there was a moment taken, where they held him tight enough to make sure there was no room for doubt, before letting go. “No, everyone’s struggle is different, but no one is without one. Humans problems just seem far more...trivial to us.” They shrugged.

“A break up is hardly the equivalent of being chained for centuries.” They give an example as they take a small step back, waving hand in front of them. “Walk with me?” It’s a question and invitation, because they surely still have plenty of work to do before things might return to where they should have been for all these years.

[foretolds]

exhcltedones​:

Stepping out of the Waffle Shop, Senan let out an exasperated sigh. The risk of going there and ended up someplace else was always a factor. Thankfully, it seemed the other customers were equally as confused. “Where do you think it dropped us off this time?”

FOR WHATEVER REASON, he and the waffle house..hut....space ship...intergalactic black hole, whatever you wanted to call it, seemed to have an never ending feud going on. He never seemed to be able to enjoy a single grease filled, hangover cure without being transported halfway across the city. It was surely a cosmic fuck you, and you could not possibly convince him otherwise. His sigh, sounded far more annoyed than exhausted. “Oh, just east Jesus nowhere, surely. Like I can’t get some turkey bacon in this bitch in peace.” 

[foretolds]

ofdcathless​:

The knock on the door took her by surprise. The Morrigan was so deep in her work, so careful with her sewing of the poor cadaver in front of her, she had barely even heard the music playing loudly from the gramophone in her office. Lifting her head, the Morrigan frowned and laid down the needle and thread, pausing. Another knock sounded and she sighed softly, whispered her apologies to the old woman on her slab and snapping of the latex gloves to toss in the bin. After a quick pump of alcohol gel onto her hands, she hurried for the door “Just coming-” she called out, rubbing her hands together and then shaking of the access. 

The Morrigan opened the door of her shop with a smile, still wearing the heavy leather apron around her neck, hair swept back in a neat chignon to keep fly aways out of her eyes while she worked. The air was heavy with the smell of pine and lilies grown deep in valleys. It masked the formaldehyde well, but that scent still lingered light as a kiss in the air. The Morrigan glanced up at her visitor, eyes old as the hills and pale as a corpse she said “-how may i help you?”

SHE WAS FAMILIAR IN THE WAY THAT she felt like home, but not quite. It was probably due to the way that fate mingled in both of them, that it touched parts of them that created a crude sort of kindred spirit. He didn’t read too much into it, considering that the world had not intended for him to be cut from the same cloth, but instead it was forced upon him like a mystery he certainly did not consent to unraveling. Regardless, there would always be a reason that he would find himself coming back, warmth pulled right out of what should have been the cold and somber. A sigh pushed passed lips, temporary solemn look folding lip into teeth as it rolled, before speech would follow behind.

“You have any secret remedy for missing signs?”  Typically, his was the bottom of a bottle of overpriced bourbon, but eventually that would take the type of toll on his body that even he couldn’t afford. Head shakes, hand rubbing at the back of his neck before stepping inside with her. “Otherwise, tell me some godly shit that is meant to sound comforting but probably is going to come off as creepy, peeping tom adjacent tom foolery.”  

[foretolds]

exhcltedones​:

“Did I ever like it to begin with?”. The teasing didn’t stop, and Senan was happy for that. His days were often long and dreary, with very little communication with other living things. Just having Baptiste there, with his stupid nicknames, brought some liveliness to Senan’s otherwise dead life. 

Senan laughed, reaching for Baptiste’s hand just to hold it. “Why would I do that if I have you? You’re more than enough for me. Unless you’re thinking of finding yourself a new one”.

IF YOU WOULD HAVE TOLD HIM, that this was going to happen decades ago he would have laughed in your face. But Senan was special, now, and there was no denying that. The sound of his laughter was a favorite song, the lines in his smile were close to perfection, even the softness of that hand that took his was a touch that embodied affection. It roused an honest smile from him, creating warmth in his chest as he squeezed hand for a moment before chuckling.

“What, you prefer wonder bread to white bread? Is that what this is about?” He teases, smile turning into a grin before head shook. “Nah, I’m good right where I’m at. Speaking of which, I think the flowers can wait ‘til morning. My focus is on you right now, and it’s finna stay that way.” Broad shoulders shrug, pushing him back toward the house as a way to say that the work could wait.

[foretolds]

entcnglemnt​:

Ayda had her own flare for dramatics. What one considered to be over the top wasn’t always so with the dragon. But Cain, he was the one place where she didn’t have to reign in that flare. That she could express as needed without fear of public repercussion. Granted, there were certain things he wouldn’t let her live down, of course, but that was life with them. His initial question caused a brief pause - consideration to the idea. Could they make the whole town into a freak show? One that could, specifically, make money off of? After a second, she shook her head, bringing her back to the present conversation.

“Nothing, I’m just making a point. I need one.”

HE FINDS ANOTHER LAUGH, in the way she clearly weighs the decision and then eventually offers the answer. His sister is nothing if not thorough, which is something that has managed to benefit them both. Truly, they have managed to compliment each other immensely throughout the years, one picking up where the other lacks and vice versa. Grin briefly touched a smile before reigning back in, head nodding in agreement with the suggestion..or demand, of a freak show. She wasn’t wrong, it was absolutely a must have, especially in a town like this. Surprise, fascination, awe...it was a challenge he would love to accept. “Absolutely, the town needs one. Here’s the important question for you, what do we put in it, exactly?”

[foretolds]

chainedxwolf​:

“Considering who you are, it is probably best you don’t get a drinking problem.” Chaos and alcohol? Probably not a good idea. It would be funny though. Fenrir drank on occasion, but usually not enough to get drunk. There was no telling what could happen and someone could easily get eaten.

As arms were wrapped around him, he wasn’t sure whether he should cry or not. His heart beat faster and his tail dig a weak wag as he buried his face against Romeo. “I just…” He felt tears prick at his eyes. “Why do people betray me? I didn’t do anything, and then he…he helped them. I thought he cared for me.”

ARMS MOVED, readjusting to hold him just a bit tighter at the question that managed to weave its way into Romeos chest. They hated the way it too, effortlessly played at heart strings. Instead of focusing on the hurt, however, they focused on the anger at what had been done, what had been ruined, what had been taken. It wasn’t only from Vidar, but from Romeo too, from all of them. They weren’t going to try and examine Tyr’s motives for this, and instead shook their head.

A hand reaches up, fingers pressed back through his hair carefully, an overwhelmingly affection gesture for someone who had been written off as selfish rather than selfless. “He is a sheep, just like the rest of them. So afraid of a prophecy they never realized that they were the ones making it come true, and now, they will pay for it.” They lean back enough to look into his eyes. “They will answer for what they took from us all, and they will know that you were innocent, you still are.”

[foretolds]

entcnglemnt​:

 Her attention was, at the moment, completely overtaken with the trinket in hand. Delicate fingers were careful as they spun the only moving piece and her gaze, though soft and still full of wonder, couldn’t find a place it wanted to remain. “Tease,” she whispered before those eyes finally bounced back up to the other. “What would you want for it, Ki?” Her hands lowered, trinket safely cradled against her chest. “What favors could I possibly give you these days?” Taking a step toward them, she was practically humming with excitement.

That was the excitement she craved, the rush that came from the bargaining. 

“Maybe I could interest you in a meal in exchange, something from home?”

EIR WAS EVER THE INNOCENT, at least in some since. She carried a purity that was admirable instead of irritating, a sort of breath of fresh air that not even Romeo could deny. Usually, Loki preferred to find what was wrong with this, to dismantle it, but they found that they would give entirely too much to keep her whole. That was ignored, however, and instead a chuckle was given at the suggestion of a meal.

“If you were anyone else, the suggestion of food would have almost been an insult.” They muse, grinning from ear to ear as head shook. “The meal is a down payment, a sign of good faith, the real payment is a favor owed. I’ll be sure to cash in eventually, what do you say?”

[foretolds]

lenchante​:

They blink at the next question, opening their mouth, and then closing it. Emile supposes he’s never noticed him talking around himself. “Um,” they start, reaching up to rub at the back of their neck. “Both, maybe?” They’d picked up a lot of defense mechanisms since moving here, since leaving their hometown. One needed defense mechanisms to survive the unknown, and, seemingly, everything here was unknown. Emile didn’t really know anyone, despite the fact that he knew most everyone’s name. It was forward of them to ask him that question, though, and he’ll give them points for that. One illegal thing? “Can I say kill a CEO? Like, billionaires and shit. They deserve it. If not that, arson, but on, like, an empty building where people won’t get hurt. Or on the CEO’s house. ‘Cause, like, that asshole deserves it.”

THE ANSWER IS TYPICALLY BOTH. Romeo is the same way, all things considered. There is a small shimmer of compatibility and potential there, and there alone. They enjoy that, so it seems the pair is doing well at pointing out what to like, or not like, about one another. This feeds the smile on their features, perhaps touched in a completely different way, when it comes to the mention of corporate greed and bullshittery. A solemn, appreciative nod is given. “You can say anything, no one is here to judge.” A hand waves in front like an invitation. “The CEO I understand, but riddle me this, what joy is there in watching something burn? Just for the thrill and the show?” Digging a little deeper, Romeo feels a bit more compelled to know more, whatever the reasons behind that. What makes Emile tick is far more interesting than they first assumed.