ofbrokendarkness

[ofbrokendarkness]

x-citali‌:

It had been a transition for them both, this merging of space. Constantly. Rhys left his scent on everything she owned, and while she had zero complaints regarding it - it was still a change she needed to get used it. It helped that Vihaan’s tantrum managed to last as long as it had, didn’t make it any less annoying or stressful on her part, but still. 

The both of them had more monsters than any one being should, it was part of the draw. The pull. Understood brokenness in the midst of it all. A lack of needed explanation. Acceptance, even in the darkest of moments. It was a comfort she wasn’t used to having, save for her brother, and it was something she was constantly in fear of losing. 

As if one morning she’d wake up and he’d be gone.

And that was why she slept as lightly as she did - fear. Caution. 

“Where are you going.”

Her tone was half heavy with sleep, but a clear enough indication that she had been awake by the time he tried to make his escape. Even then, it took her a few moments before she finally moved, a hand sliding to prop her chin just enough to get a good look at him.

It wasn’t that he had any intention of leaving. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have let her take on the obligation in everything that he was. It wasn’t just a simple rescue situation, he wasn’t typical in any sense of the word. He came with baggage that could only be matched by her own - and that was why it worked, that’s why all their broken edges seemed to find their missing pieces in one another. 

There was a moment, a fleeting one, where he thought about letting her see this - letting her really see him so absolutely vulnerable before dismissing it. There was no need to share the emotions that neither was equipped to deal with. Instead, he shook his head, even in the dark, before clearing throat. He needed to sound a little less shaken, a little less strangled than he currently felt when words finally came. 

“Bathroom.”  The one word answer wasn’t pretty or perfect, but it would have to do, and as soon as it was out, so was he. The door had been pushed open, and he was happy to take bare feet to the cold hardwood of the hallway panels. 

[ofbrokendarkness]

Holy god 😍

[ofbrokendarkness]

[ofbrokendarkness]

Two weeks and somehow he hadn’t managed to make this feel like home. It wasn’t his own fault, nor was it hers. He had never had much of a home, not one that lasted, but this had to be the one that had been intent on changing that. After all, she’d saved him from being cast out into the world once again, saved him even after she’d seen first hand the monster that he was. The memories, they hadn’t managed to force her to toss him back, not yet, at least.

They did however, manage to wake him up. This time it was without sound, he wasn’t screaming, there was nothing violent about it other than the fact that body seemed to jerk out of it. It was like he’d pulled himself out of a dream, a replay of a vicious moment in time that had been designed to haunt him - and that’s exactly what it did. Breath caught a little bit, heavy in his throat as he was already trying to all but scramble free from the bed.

Clearly, he wasn’t used to be comforted during these times - especially not from anything more than a bottle, and if he had it his way, he would continue that tradition, silently praying to gods he knew didn’t exist that it hadn’t woken the sleeping dragon beside him.

@x-citali

[ofbrokendarkness]

letusmakeadeal‌:

Real was subjective. How did the human saying go again… perception is reality? Mars certainly used that to her advantage on several occasions. Mortal creatures did so love to live in a reality of their own creation. Who was to blame her for using that to earn her next meal? Certainly, she’d never taken the soul of a shapeshifter. She had to wonder – did he even have a soul to consume? Or were they both just monsters playing at being human? 

“Is that what you’re into, handsome?” she asked, pretty red lips donning a devilish smirk. “Teeth and claws?” Her lips parted then, revealing a row of perfectly white, straight teeth. “The better to bite you with,” she mused, fingers curling as she turned her hand towards herself, inspecting her nails idly before her gaze lifted, capturing his. “The better to scratch you with.” She did so love leaving marks on pretty boys with a penchant for challenging her. 

“Is it hiding if the prey are willfully blind?” she asked him, perfectly plucked brow arching. After all, she always gave them what they wanted in the end, didn’t she? It wasn’t her fault most didn’t think to ponder the true weight of her price. She rolled her wrist then, extending it out towards him, making sure to hold his gaze as she lifted her opposite hand. Slowly, it transformed into the blackness that was her real self, claws unveiling themselves, tips razor sharp. She pressed the sharpened claw to the underside of her wrist, dug in, and dragged it unflinchingly through flesh. Blood welled up, spilling over in bright streaks of crimson. “Go on then,” she urged, a taunting smirk at play on her lips. “Drink.” 

He was fairly certain whatever soul or spirit he might have had died the day he’d killed that first boy. The blood in his hands seemed like a life sentence, and the ritual probably promised whatever part of him had truly been human in exchange for all that power he now wielded. Rhys had never missed the irony in the fact that he hadn’t been the one to want the power, but instead his parents. Ah, what a bunch of highly unhealthy issues that particular memory created.

He watched as she continued her little show, a song and dance that might have worked to entice the others, but Rhys wasn’t quite that easy. He’d stared temptation in the face for entirely too long, and the way she seemed intent on making herself into the walking, talking version of little red riding hood was bordering on comical. That explained why there was such a hard to read grin climbing on features, but thankfully it could easily be mistaken for charm, all its lopsided deviance.

“That depends on the prey, some of them are just stupid instead of blind.” He pointed out, the vast majority of people - supernatural or otherwise, didn’t spend their time on high alert for a demon trying to make a deal. They probably assumed she was just another beautiful face, until it was too late, and they were out their most prized possession. That thought only widened the grin, he had no sympathy for stupidity, he never would.

The encouragement to drink though was finally what did him in, and he burst out laughing. As a matter of fact, he was doubled over almost immediately. “Oh, for fucks sake. Where did you learn these lines, horror movie villains 101? No thanks, Demon Dean. Mama always said not to take blood from strangers, just because you’re evil doesn’t mean that vessel didn’t have the AIDS before you occupied it.”

[ofbrokendarkness]

letusmakeadeal‌:

“Oh, handsome, I’ve no cherries left to pop,” she mused, gaze like liquid danger as she looked him over, slow and considering. She’d run into a skinwalker or two over the years. Curious creatures, those. The current body she wore was old – the oldest she’d ever worn – but she knew very well the appeal of adopting a new face. 

She turned towards him then, cigarette held loosely in her hand as she hummed, interest piqued for the fleeting moment of the present. “Is this your real face?” she wondered aloud, hand lifting as if she might touch him – she didn’t, though her mouth slowly tipped into an inviting smirk. “Or are you still hiding?” 

Her words were a gentle beckon: come on out, darling thing, and play. 

Most would have been worried, scared, they would have felt some kind of fear when they looked at something that had tried so hard to portray just how dangerous it was. It was the direct opposite of the devil, the one that was supposed to come dressed as everything you’d ever wanted, telling sweet lies that usually ended in blood. He wondered if he’d ever looked like that when he was trying to charm himself into a meal, a fae, or something else with magical blood that would satisfy his need to feed a little longer.

Curious, with a hint of his well known recklessness, head tilted like a confused puppy. Rhys, however, was nowhere near innocent enough, nor had he ever really been, to qualify as such. “This is as real as it gets.” His face, the one he’d been born with - he’d been taught to hate it, the lesson was a hard one. Recently though, thanks to a few choice people, acceptance was starting to come around.

“And what about yours, you know some people are very much into teeth and claws.” He hinted at knowing what lie beneath that body, but it was because he did. His magic was quite powerful and while he hadn’t been around as long as she, she probably didn’t have him beat by much. “Hiding.” He chided. “Looks like it takes one to know one, right?”

[ofbrokendarkness]

wingednyx‌:

“Skinwalker.” Nyx’s brows raised, far too curious to help himself now that he’s seen what the other man could do. Things he’d only ever heard of. “I have never seen one of you.” His sister, however, had been so enamored with the idea of the multitude of beings that were out there, if only one were to look.  Nyx himself had been perfectly content with living out the rest of his life in their own secluded hideout. 

His eyes skirted down the skinwalker’s frame as if to check if the rest of him hadn’ t somehow changed shape before Nyx settled on his face again, bewilderment evident in his eye. “Does it hurt?”

Rhys was clearly amused by the fascination there. It was hardly an expected reaction. Most people ran screaming, or wore the face of someone who was absolutely confused on how his ability worked - or why it worked for that matter. Regardless of the technicalities, he rarely tried to justify them.

“We aren’t quite as common as your people.” The pixie’s magic was enough to give him away. The skinwalker could feel it, and unlike his own, it wasn’t unfamiliar. “And no, not unless I haven’t eaten.” He wasn’t going to elaborate on what exactly he needed to eat to keep that shift from bringing about pain, but he wasn’t going to lie about it either.

“Now, I’ve shown you mine, you show me yours.”

[ofbrokendarkness]

x-citali‌:

She stopped. Her feet steady against the floor as she stared at him. “I’m sorry. What?” No. No. No? Neither one of them seemed to move from their respective spots. Citali hadn’t expected this situation to be easy, but she also didn’t expect a no right out the gate. Still, she stood, hand on her hip, and watched him. Waited for him to speak.

And it wasn’t until he said what, apparently, needed to be said that her stance relaxed just a bit. It lost a bit of the aggressive tension that built up at being denied so quickly. You could see the rise of her shoulders, of her chest, as she took in a rather large breath. But before speaking, she turned and moved for the door, gentle for once, as she closed it. this conversation was one she knew they needed to have, but she’d be damned if anyone else got to hear her part. 

“If I had any inclination that I would be rethinking this in two weeks, I wouldn’t be here right now.” Finally turning, she took one step from the door, away from the possibility of people overhearing her. “My sense of time is fucked, and for whatever reason, I need a fire under my ass to make a move. Call it a character trait. The idea of people getting close to me makes me uncomfortable on a ungodly level. But, somehow, you’ve managed to do that. So yeah, I know this is different, but I can promise you that the only thing i’m going to regret in two weeks is you not being there. With me.”

When she spoke, he had no qualms with listening. This conversation was not one that would be easily had. Instead it was something heavy, something that weighed even in the air that dared stand between the two of them. He was uncomfortable too, there was no doubt about it. The thought of feelings, of all these emotions made his skin crawl, but there was something different here. She was different. Citali meant more to him than most ever could, ever would.

There was a small pause, the gentle uptick of the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t help himself, and frankly, she was lucky that he didn’t start grinning like the damn fool that he was. They had easily transitioned from stand off to confessional, and those words were quite possibly the best thing he’d heard in years.

“I...” He started and then stopped himself, shaking his head. “Not yet, but you should know that I will.” There was implication, without actually saying it. It was too soon for the words, but they were there under the surface, he knew it. He turned away from her to follow the orders easier now, gathering up what little shut he possessed before motioning toward the closed door.

“Take me home, then.”

[ofbrokendarkness]

Rarely was he quite this careless with his power. It was one that terrified most of the people around the town, one that they knew came from blood. There was nothing inviting about his acceptance of the fact that he was a monster, he was what went bump in the night. It didn’t help that he held the ability to wear the face, the body of anyone who had ever come into contact with him, of any picture he’d ever seen. The idea of his half assed body snatching was usually always the damn deal breaker.

This was the reason why he was surprised that they hadn’t run away screaming, or at least turned the other cheek when they’d mistakenly watch him shift back into his own form. Instead, they’d taken up the light pace beside him, which was what warranted the grin he wore.

“Let me guess, just popped you skinwalker cherry, huh?”

[ofbrokendarkness]

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[ofbrokendarkness]

x-citali‌:

It wasn’t fair, but she wouldn’t voice those words. Time worked differently for her than it did him, in more ways than one. It was against them, and Citali was too cautious to act quickly in any situation. She was someone who needed to think things through, to weigh out the pros and cons of each and every circumstance and possible outcome. Rhys was one of these situations, one of these moments she let herself dwell on, trying to find the downfall he promised.

Her nose wrinkled up at his words and a soft “doubtful” was muttered under her breath as she glanced around the room. Purposefully not looking up at him just yet. She let him say his peace, and there wasn’t an argument she could come up with that would tell him he was wrong. And even if she did have one, this wasn’t the place for it - she understood his actions. Didn’t make them any less frustrating, but, she couldn’t stay mad at him for it. 

When she finally looked up at him, despite the height difference, she held her chin as high as she could without it being awkward. “Don’t assume to know what I would, and wouldn’t want.” She stepped, taking a foot back toward the door. “Get your shit and let’s go before this smell seeps into my pores.”

“No.”  Surprisingly enough, and despite that every bone in his body wanted to, he stayed right in place. This was supposed to be the easy way out, but some things needed to be said before he would give into something that still felt like it was some kind of whim - or a grasp at whatever card that could be left in the deck that might save his sorry ass. He wasn’t convinced this was something she wanted, something that was worth it, and he needed that much before he allowed the dragon to take on his own disaster piece. 

“That’s the point,.if I’m not assuming then you’re going to have to say something. I’ve done this enough, and usually I could give a fuck less about the back and forth bullshit that comes with it, but this is different and I think you know that. I’m not going to be something you regret in two weeks.” 

[ofbrokendarkness]

pallor-m0rtis‌:

By that point his uneasiness about someone else being present wasn’t the issue, he no longer cared, but it was dangerous. There was very little thought on that very primitive level of demand stirring under his skin. He wasn’t himself, he wasn’t anything, some sort of internal switch flipped. There was only the need twisting in his stomach and clawing at his mind that drove him, autopilot. He couldn’t overthink it or debate, it was probably the only saving grace his mind had granted him since death, that distance from reality in those desperate moments. 

Oddly deliberate, one might have assumed there would be more of a frantic note in those moments but it wasn’t the case, all the more disturbing because of that. The actions were practiced, like a habit, hands that lacked more useful claws were still surprising strong and dug into flesh like it was nothing to pull free of bone. It wasn’t, it all came free, slick and wet sounding with the rip of delicate tissues and tougher muscles that peeled away from what lay under it. Not near so unpleasant as the sound those raw parts made between teeth though, a certain snap and pop that came with every mouthful half chewed. Bones, otherwise useless, bent and cracked when wrenched apart and tossed aside, decorating the ground around the rest of the carnage. 

Awareness was always gradual, a fuzzy feeling in the back of his mind as the ache began to recede and he was not spared knowing his actions even if he was still too far disconnected to control them. It was strange how he could identify just what parts were by the sticky residue of taste left on his tongue, thick with blood swiftly growing cold but under it was everything else; iron and copper laced through every shred of flesh and whatever else went with it. Bitter at times, bits of things buried deeper, shattered organs dripping bile that stung for all its’ acidic makeup. None of it was appealing so much as necessity, or maybe it was starting to be and that was a nervous thought.  

By the time his stomach had calmed that faint shudder of all the things he so often felt empty of, life, was like a wash of warmth in itself intoxicating. He remained motionless for another long moment, until his muscles were relaxed and his mind came back into focus, the fear of it not returning shoved aside one more time. Then he was once more on his feet, jeans decorated the same as Rhys’ with splatters of gore and his hands stained and slick with it. Fingers still dripping as he drew them up, the washed out blue of his eyes glinted dark with that predatory flicker, May licked the traces of blood off them with more satisfaction that he would have dared to admit. More and more he was forgetting how to separate the two, the person he was and the creature that dwelt under his skin.

Lips still as red as his hands, traces still splattered across his jaw and smeared as he licked his palm, his eyes fell back to Rhys in silent scrutiny. In most any other case anyone with the misfortune of seeing his habits ended up a meal but the situation was so entirely different; the thing May had to keep away from prying eyes was, apparently, what they had in common. So what did that make Rhys? Not like himself, no, he man was alive so far as he could tell, so was he just that psychotic?  

“Trust you?” He repeated the words barely heard earlier and all the more mocking out of context, they came out low and bordering amused with absurd they were even as he shifted not to take a step backwards but just barely forward instead, regarding him with thin curiosity. No use in denying much of anything now, was there? 

“Cute; red is really your color my dude.”  He managed once May had recovered from the truth that was the monster that seemed to hide inside both of them. A motion was made to his mouth, but Rhys was careful not to get too close - just in case he’d decided it was time for some kind of live action dessert. The thought made him laugh, even though it was entirely too morbid for anyone to appreciate, probably not even the zombie in front of him. Regardless, head shook, prompting hair to fall into his face. 

This was a constant annoyance, something he was more than used to, if he were being entirely honest. There was a moment taken, a pause, before bloody hands were run back through that same hair, attempting to chase it away. Of course, his plan succeeded, even if it did give a little insight to what he may look like if he ever decided to go auburn. Sickening, honestly, but that term was certainly dependent on who you were asking. 

The question about trust was one that had him chuckling again. “Listen, I’m not saying trust me like let’s share bedtime stories and shit because I don’t have the emotional capacity for strangers like that. But, trust me in the sense that I would rather you eat that than me, and I know what that shit.” A vague gesture made to the mess that May had made of himself. “Is like, if anything. It’s really gonna fuck you up when you find out why.”  He mused, taking a guess before a hand was reaching in the back pocket of dark denims.

He picked out the pack of cigarettes, offering one out to the other, before he took one himself and lit it. If May took it, he would pass over the lighter as he exhaled. “You know this is not what most people mean when they say they need a smoke after a good meal, but it’s the same fucking thing.” 

[ofbrokendarkness]

keresx‌:

It was truly ironic. Ro had gone out of the house to take a breath of fresh air and instead she found herself in one of the most suffocating places that she could ever go to, a bar. But nonetheless, here she was. Sitting on a stool quietly. Eyes scanning around, no subject in particular, with an untouched glass of tequila on the counter beside her. She’d ordered one and paid for it, mainly for her own sake to save herself from embarrassment. The woman didn’t want to look like a creep, sitting on a random stool at the bar without even ordering a single thing.

She contemplated on leaving and getting some rest for the night, her pitch black eyes threatening to fall if she’d spent a few more minutes staying here. That is, until someone pointed to her form and inviting her to dance, drunkenly, if she may add. After much thinking, her eyebrows raised as she gently hopped off the stool, awkwardly dancing and looking like a confused t-rex at that over to the stranger and continuing her weird shuffle beside them.

Ro was beyond confused at this point, how she’d gone from flying over battlefields stained red to dancing badly at a random bar with a stranger by her side. Life certainly is strange. How bewildering. She looked over to her drunken companion, allowing a small awkward smile to grace itself on her lips, arms moving to cross themselves while her feet remained their side-to-side step motions. “Is it normal for you to invite random strangers out on the dance floor like this, or am I somehow a special case?”

He seemed to contemplate the question for longer than usual, processing despite the fact that the alcohol had been intent on making a fucking fool out of him - or maybe he was just inclined to do that all on his own, but freedom from inhibitions had made things a bit easier. The ease of a trademarked grin slipping onto features as answer was finally given. “Nothing about me, this town, or this particular interaction is normal.”  Offered the obvious, chuckling at the way he pointed it out despite the fact that it was a given.

“And I’m drunk as fuck, if that’s what you’re getting at...so that being said, I guess we’re both a special case.”  It didn’t make sense, and yet he still didn’t care. As a matter of fact, he was entertaining the bad idea of inviting his new found friend, the word used loosely of course, for another shot he didn’t need. A nod toward the bar. “Dancing isn’t my forte, and it doesn’t seem to be yours either, how about another drink before I try and teach you the electric slide, white people LOVE the electric slide.” 

[ofbrokendarkness]

x-citali‌:

it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as she was anticipating. The thud that sounded when it connected filled her with a weird sense of regret. Not enough that her stoic expression would change, but it was there, lingering right under the surface. 

She shifted where she stood, watching as he rubbed at the spot, and she had to resist the urge to cut the distance between them. Not to comfort him, but to smack the hell out of him - considering the weight didn’t seem to do either one of them justice in the end. Tali did take a step, moving a bit more into the room. 

“Rude?” There was an emphasis there, in both body and tone. Her eye narrowed on him, watching as he stood. “If I didn’t want to know, do you think I would have trekked through communal housing? it smells like a gym bag in here.”

It was clear from the minute she’d entered the building that she did, in fact, want to know. That much was obvious, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up, roll over, and offer her some kind of apology so easily. In fact, he didn’t intend to apologize at all. He didn’t want her to know that the situation had become so dire, because it would make him an obligation, not a want. For once, he needed someone to want to deal with everything that he was, rather than taking it on because of some fucked up time rule. 

A sigh was pushed past through his lips, fighting the urge to roll his eyes about the entire thing before he stepped closer. The distance between them was closed easily enough, looking down at the dragon for a moment before he’d speak, clearly trying to find the words. “It does smell like dirty socks in this bitch, but you get used to it after awhile. I didn’t tell you because you’re not obligated to keep me here, no one is. I don’t even know if you would want that, not to mention, it’s a lot. I can’t let you take it on if you’re not sure that’s exactly what the fuck you want. I’m not going to be another mistake, and I’m sure as shit not going to be another regret.”  

There was emphasis in the words, a little more roughness in them, a tone he hadn’t dared to take with her before. Instead, it was the raw ends of emotion that neither party seemed to cater to - but it didn’t change the fact that it needed to be said.

[ofbrokendarkness]

[ofbrokendarkness]