HOLDER. *
SHE ISN’T ENTIRELY SURE WHY SHE WONDERS, and while the answer is somewhat predictable, it still makes her wonder even more. Hara doesn’t find herself feeling anything except the rage she was killed by, but around this being it’s different. It’s a calmer state, one that allows her to touch only briefly on what she can consider the closest thing to human.
‘ Curiosi…ty… Mostly… Is it something you… control? ‘
< i have no use for them, so i do not use them. it is my means of
efficiency. >
it seems the most logical response. he doesn’t mean to sound cruel-- doesn’t mean to sound like anything-- but it’s the way he works. it’d probably be much harder for him if he had the capacity to feel things like people can. the last thing he needs is guilt phasing into the picture. it’s better if he behaves like the equivalent of a psychopath.
< i should not spare thoughts for the people i have hurt. the universe
does not care about their plight, and so neither should i. >
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🞮 HOLDER.
LONG AND DRAWN OUT IS HER HUM, bony and pale fingers tracing along the soft fabric of the old plush. She feels as if, despite unseen, the memories of holders’ passed claw and cling onto her remaining spirit. Perhaps their fate was uncertain, or this was truly the works of higher powers. Hara likes to settle on the theory of coincidence. After all, how could her human life have been so horrible and have come to such an abrupt end just like that? Illogical.
‘ Per…haps… ‘ She feels choked. Always. ‘ Anything… else…? ‘
THOUGH THE ENTITY IS FAR FROM STUPID, he’s struggling to find the answer that the spirit wants to hear. Though he isn’t afraid of telling her the truth-- the numb, hollow truth-- he has to wonder what she’ll gain from hearing about the type of monster he is.
< no. >
Why would I? Feelings are what separate me from humans.
< why do you ask? >
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HOLDER. ❜
OF RAGE SHE’S BEEN BORN, but within remains a bit of the humanity she now lacks today. A spirit looking for the thrill of vengeance, now perched upon one of many gravestones around them with the soft toy held close to her non-moving chest. Empty eyes are focused on the smaller being in front of her, and after fiddling with a hand on the item he possesses, she speaks up in the same hushed whisper that carries her words every time.
‘ Do you feel anything…? ‘
THE QUESTION PROMPTS A TWITCH, though he doesn’t know the source of it. It’s a loaded question, all things considered, and it takes careful contemplation to reach a definitive answer. He seems to shuffle, feet that he doesn’t actually possess shifting unevenly until he goes rigid and straight once more.
< hunger. i feel hunger. >
that counts, right?
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He came to feed, yet he finds himself entranced by the strange trinket attached to their keys. Standing at his utmost height, he just about manages to nudge them off of the table, a loud noise following as they clatter to the ground. Unconcerned with the disruption, Zhu sits down and begins to fiddle. Some bringer of chaos you are...
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HELLO, CROW HERE. I have a new boy to add to the table. Meet Zhu, the bringer of misfortune, a horror / monster oc with no rhyme or reason, who is senselessly terrible just because he was born into existence that way. If a spirit of mischief sounds up your alley, please consider giving this post a ♡ or a ↻ and I’ll check you out!! Please be aware that this blog is, for the meantime, low-activity and kinda selective.
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tags lmao.
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