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[readthecards-blog]

Facilier opens his mouth, ready to answer as they strolled down the hall. But he closes it, glancing at the woman- Elsa, wasn't it?

He clicks his tongue. "They were company. Many were worse than what I'm used to." Facilier looks away, fingers drumming against Elsa's shoulder, "But there were few that were better."

He doesn't let the melancholy fester, knowing full well that someone would catch onto it. So he stops, turning on his heel and placing both his hands upon the shorter woman's shoulders. "I know that you will be a better companion, bèl glas. You are interested in magic, amiright? You like to know about the arcane and rituals?"

The doctor laughs, wrapping his arm around her waist. He turns, arm outstretched as his cane seems to point in the direction of the kitchen. “Follow me, bèl glas, and we shall find the kitchen.”

Without warning, he started walking, arm still around Elsa. “Back in the old place, let me tell y’all, cher, there was a lot more ‘fusing stuff. They did lot more stuff then…whoever be ownin’ this place. It’s big, I’ll give ‘em that.”

He gives a slight frown. “Company be different.”

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The doctor laughs, wrapping his arm around her waist. He turns, arm outstretched as his cane seems to point in the direction of the kitchen. "Follow me, bèl glas, and we shall find the kitchen."

Without warning, he started walking, arm still around Elsa. "Back in the old place, let me tell y'all, cher, there was a lot more 'fusing stuff. They did lot more stuff then...whoever be ownin' this place. It's big, I'll give 'em that."

He gives a slight frown. "Company be different."

"Another new face to this world?" The man smiles, flicking his wrist. The cards are replaced with a cane that Facilier twirls, stopping as he bows, taking the woman’s hand. "Charmed. Elsa, what a name. Short for Elizabeth, which derives from the Dutch and German. Let me guess,"...

[readthecards-blog]

"Another new face to this world?" The man smiles, flicking his wrist. The cards are replaced with a cane that Facilier twirls, stopping as he bows, taking the woman's hand. "Charmed. Elsa, what a name. Short for Elizabeth, which derives from the Dutch and German. Let me guess," his smile is still there as he looks over her, Arendelle is of a more northern Europe?"

He chuckles and lets go of her hand, as if she just told a joke. "I got friends there. Running amok snow and Russia. Y'know." He fixes his hat, smug. "And kitchen? Well, mon cher, it was running 'round the old joint. I suppose it's somewhere downstairs these days."

He turns, dropping the deck of cards he had been shuffling. But a quick snap of his fingers makes them freeze, easily levitating back to his hands.

"What," he stops, eyes narrowing a bit as he takes in the sight of the other. She was shorter than him, but that was no shock....

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theicequeenelsa:

Walking around what appeared to be a long hallway, inspecting each door and window, glancing at the scenery outside. It was different from what Arendelle was, and to her, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Now that she was free to do what she pleased and go where she wanted, the experience was welcome. 

Turning the corner, she spied someone walking down the hallway and instead of being antisocial, decided to be daring. “Hello!” 

He turns, dropping the deck of cards he had been shuffling. But a quick snap of his fingers makes them freeze, easily levitating back to his hands.

"What," he stops, eyes narrowing a bit as he takes in the sight of the other. She was shorter than him, but that was no shock. What was a shock was her hair, her icy appearance. Honestly, he would applaud her. Quite nicer than most foolish outfits he’s seen.

He clears his throat, smiling. “Well. Hello. I am Doctor Facilier. Ans you?”

|| Open

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Well, I haven't been here for awhile. Life is rather hectic, as usual.

I will try to get on Facilier more often, especially since my old group has started back up. Which means I'm no longer independent. I am still on mobile and can't change or edit my profile to where it'd say I'm in a group. Just so you all know.

- Lin [Mun]

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The voice had been more than a shock, sending a jolt of terror down his spine.

He had fell forward, into the horrid carcass. He turned, not moving away as his hand clutched the dagger. His clothes were more than ruined and his skin seemed considerably more pale.

Yet Eris was fine. Still among the arms of grace and darkness, a serpentine beauty that was a monster and at the same time gorgeous. Facilier, a mere mortal, magical as he may be, should have figured this. His hand lowered the weapon and he became more lax, even though he had no right to be. He simply looked at the "skin".

"Ah, seems to have left my mind." He avoided her first question. Even if he was to be tortured, he would have not given her any new information. He wanted freedom and wanted to bathe in it. And when a powerful being had simply asked, no offerings or signs of trust in sight, Facilier had soaked that in and misused it to the extremes. As it was his way.

So, he shrugged.

Bragging To Chaos

The zombies had fallen back, used up and shriveling away from their master as he crunched over their remains. The shadows were lurking around her parts like beetles over driftwood. 

The shell of the Goddess was scentless now, though it had given a sad vapor of charred sea salt, rancid sandal and apple wood…smells that would ordinarily be intoxicating if whole, now smelling like waste…and then nothingness. To anyone outside this world, this was a horrific sight…something that one would encounter in the most depraved corners of the world, or in ritualistic history. But to those that knew the Goddess’s ways…

“Yes. How dare you? for starters.”

She stood behind him in her usual seductive graces, a hand at her crooked hip and her face wearing a bored yet irritated expression. She aimed a harsh finger at him, her arm looking like an arrow about to tweak. 

She eyed him with the disdain of a professor reprimanding their best student. This was a parlor trick…something she expected the ShadowMan to know all too well. Let him take her cast off shell, she was Chaos after all, and couldn’t be contained. She was, however…drained and weary….tired from the battle and the apparent dismemberment...hopefully, he couldn’t detect she was down in power, needing to return to Tartarus to recharge…

“Are you not familiar with a snake’s cast off skin? A chrysalis to a Locust? A Gargoyle’s stone flesh broken off every night?” She hoped her bravado was a good one, because her growing migraine was weakening her…perhaps that’s what Facilier was hoping for…

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He was a coward, grilling onto the wall as best as he could. Eris was a horrific thing. A bloodied mass that piled to his shadows and bodies. Necromancy served him well, to get him this far. To get her on the ground.

The room was dimmer, knowing the climax had been reached as they grew dim. Shadows still slithered and clung to her and the bodies were limp. Her body on that ground was a sight, a sight that Facilier let sink in.

He let go of the wall, grabbing his cane that had fallen long ago as he took the first step. He stepped over bones and gladly stepped on limbs, hearing them crunch under him. The cane didn't touch the floor, but his pangs and shoes suffered from ash and blood.

"Well, well, this is shockin'. Chaos on the floor."

He was in front of her, looking down. His eyes were more or less normal now, no longer glowing. He kneeled down, his cane finally clinking onto the cracked floor.

"Don't y'all be lookin' at me like that. Ya don't understand, I need this."

He unscrewed the orb from his cane, letting it role aside as a sharp knife was revealed. A ceremonial dagger. He unhooked it, carefully placing it to his palm, slicing at it. Similar to his other hand. He didn't touch her. Yet.

"Anythin' to say, Chaos?"

Bragging To Chaos

When Samedi appeared, Eris immediately saw him as he was, behind his hideous mask of rotting, melting flesh—Just as he saw behind her brittle corpse-like shell. A man with a bold, bright smile and dark glare sneered at her, tipping his top hat to her in a gentlemanly fashion. The Tuxedo-clad God  waved a cigar in the direction of her soft flowing siren-like body. It was a ghosting image only Gods could recognize immediately. To the rest of the world, Hell had opened up here in Doctor Facillier’s Emporium, and the devils were ripping it apart in the name of Death and Chaos.

Her fierce monstrous screaming was a facade; kicking away the corpses as their ashen blood-stained hands tore at her limbs. Eris’s internal self was frowning plainly at the other God. He was a self-assured, relaxed beast of a man—laughing at her game and flaunting his arrogance at her. How she wanted to tear his already bulging eyes out. But a face off with the other God would have to wait…as he was retreating??

The energy warped as he did, returning Eris’s focus on her hideous form. She was back to the shadows and corpses that pulled and ripped at her crackling skin. The lava-colored ether sprayed furiously as one creature tore her leg from its knee, and broke it off like a dried limb from a dying tree. The ether poured out, burning the undead below her, melting their flesh away as the acid-like substance coated them, liquifying them in a horrific stench of sulfur and ancient resin. Eris caterwauled like a Fury, and pounded into the shadow creature that pinned her arm aside. It cried out as she made a horrific death galre to the Doctor. They were dragging her down, ripping at her husk of a form. She collapsed in ash as they did…the sound was a sick, sad crunching; like beetles under a heavy boot. Her voice let out a ghosted scream and faded like a specter. Let him come claim me now…

[readthecards-blog]

The arm was pointless, Facilier seeing no need for limbs. He ignored her, hands grasping the wall behind him as she screeched and screamed. She was a banshee, a hellish monstrosity.

He needed this power. A euphoria choking him as he conjured more of the dead. More and more they piled like pitiful children that clung to Eris like they would a mother. They were nothing.

He leaned his body into the largest symbol, lines glowing green and purple. The wood creaked and split into millions of pieces. A void revealed itself, dark and looming. Facilier remained where he was, blood dripping from some wound his hat didn't show. Not from Eris, but himself. Crazed and lunacy corrupted him and he laughed.

"Samedi!"

Bones clutched the sides and the creature lifted itself. Eyes of hellish form and skin dripping off the bones. Samedi was simply unaware of his intent, careless over years as he moved forward, sounding like shackles made him move.

Samedi laughed, standing tall as he saw Eris. Weak, weak, goddess. Letting him trick you.

Facilier glared up, his clothes ruined from blood and dust. Samedi merely observed him, chuckling. This is not my fight, disciple

Realization came over the man and he stared, eyes flickering, the glow dimmer. Samedi only laughed, returning to his void as several shadows and zombies continued to hold Eris. The man frowned, tasting the blood that bonded him to those shadows.

Bragging To Chaos

The Goddess was infuriated, insulted, betrayed…by a mere voodoo priest from the NEW world. And a MORTAL one at that! Her hideous and tortured form was the complete opposite of her true shape; it was rotting, creaking, and seeping from every joint and crack of her corpse-like skin. The fire-tinted ether dripped to the ground, singing and hissing on the planks, causing it to smoke as it dissolved like acid. The undead were possessed by the magic the Shadow-man controlled from his so-called debtors from the Dark Continent.  She screeched like a harpy when one reached for her ankle and pulled at her, yanking her downward as the others gathered to grapple at her. If she was to be possessed by these beings, they all would have to drag her down and rip her piece by piece. It wouldn’t kill her or ruin her forever, but she would be vulnerable long enough for the black magic to  harness her…and then imprison her in that Nganga…As a Goddess she could destroy them all, but the spell that was cast had bound her to the room until the black magic had run its course. She needed to draw this out and destroy Facillier’s home. She bucked her foot across the zombie’s grasp, and it tore the arm from its joint, cracking like a chicken bone off its hide. The arm still was gripped at her ankle as the dark matter sprayed out in a high arch, painting the ceiling a blackened red from the zombie’s torso. She laughed high and loudly, reaching down to rip the arm off and hurl towards Facillier’s head, crashing into a table filled with vials and talismans, breaking it all to pieces.  “Is that ALL SHADOW MAN?!” Her tri-chorus voice creaked the ceiling as she laughed arrogantly. 

[readthecards-blog]

Write a Headcanon about my character

If it’s good, it will become official.

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22/100 Photos Of Prince. 

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He smirked at her form, his blood dripping onto the floor from both his hand and knife. His floor boards were ruined, bodies dragged out as they groaned and wheezed, looking towards the goddess with blank eyes.

Her anger seemed to be a blessing in his eyes, smile wide in his face. "Ain't nothing personal, cher."

He licked his hand, blood causing his eyes to shift to a brighter violet, the symbol on the table matching it. He could feel the shadows clawing at him as well, begging for their share of feeding.

"Atak pou manje ou.

A hiss rang out before several screeches followed, Facilier laughing along with them. The bodies, frail, simply lumbered towards the hellish form of Eris, all the while his shadows slithered from their domain, symbols lighting up as they passed each one.

Bragging To Chaos

Eris’s eyes widened to a monstrous rage, her own form bursting upwards from her seated perch in a torrent of slate-colored blaze.  She marshaled her own forces, skipping past her second shape of dragon-like wings and elongated limbs straight into her fiercest and most ‘ugly’ state. Her skin bubbled and groaned as it broke in places, leaking out a sickly glow orange hellfire between each crack. Her flesh darkened to a dead indigo, dull and flaking like a dried out corpse. Her hair burst from satin to spider-like tendrils, fidgeting at the energy shift in the air. Her bones broke, making a sick, angry creak and snap as they extended and took on a warped arch. Her own crimson eyes had gone mad as his, dilated to almost a pure black as she hissed above the table, readying for what was to come next… Oh, she knew the incantation and what he was doing…bringing the debited undead to her…She, a being that dwelled in destruction and wreaked of Tartatus…She was a beacon to the wicked, undead and trapped souls. This mortal was trying to possess her?! When her voice came out, the sweet, lazy seductive tones were now twisted into three voices of Hell, layering over each other in anger. “YOU DARE TO TURN ON ME YOU LITTLE SCARAB?? I am Chaos. I am Strife. I am Discord and the Ending of things!”

The green glow from the table seemed to feed off of her energies, feeding it further, to her disgust. She caterwauled in frustration when the shadows collected at the Witch Doctor, stabilizing him.  “It’s time, you wretch! I favor you and you reward me with THIS??! Never ANGER THE GODDESS OF DISCORD!”

The Power levels rose again, as Eris readied herself….

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Facilier's own smirk grew as the other spoke of his teacher. "Did they now? Well, I do what I can to get by."

He spoke as if talking about the weather, not minding that someone had such an opinion of him, even if it was justified. He didn't flinch at the bang, eyes still trained in the other. He could feel Shadow, though, the frustration in the creature growing. Fac did glance behind himself, briefly wondering if the shade was still back there.

"No, y'all are fine," he replied to the subject of his manners, "an that name suits one of your talents." His eyes glowed for a split second, fingers tapping against the orb upon his cane.

The man nodded, stepping away finally to run his hand over a pattern, "Good t'ing ya teacher was good. Bad things happen to those of inexperience." He became quiet for a long moment, hand freezing as if he remembered something. Alas, he let the hand move again, just as the familiar shadow came into view, slithering up the wall.

"Tell me, Death," he faced the boy, the child compared to him, "where do you get your supplies in this world?"

Lagan // readthecards

Light-hearted chuckle left the little witcherman at the poke back. “Don’ take it too personally. I call e’ryone t’at. It helps potential customers not feel quite so … outta place. Endearment, y’know. People pay a li’l more wit’ t’at. Gives ‘em somet’in’ familiar t’come back to when they needja.”

Boy had some social skills on him, manipulating people with kindness to return as regular customers. Of course, as soon as he heard the other introduce himself, eyebrows shot up.

“If I hadn’, t’en Baptiste was not as good a teacher as a he was proclaimed to be, now was ‘e.” was the staunch reply. “Y’know, he tol’ me t’keep m’ distance from you, back when I was still in Haiti. Said you tip scales in a worl’ o’balance.”

There was a moment of silence, save for the sound of a closer bang near the door in the back. The symbol of Legba was carved into the front of the door, probably for a good reason.

“‘Course, I was only eight back t’en. Just a novice t’the craft.” Sly smirk crossed his face at that. “Compared t’you ‘n’ him, though, I t’ink I’m still kinduva novice. ‘N’ he’s been dead since I was twelve.”

At least he was humble to a certain extent. Proud of his accomplishments, but still paid his respects to his betters. However, it was awful rude of him to not introduce himself when such was given from his guest.

“Pardon my manners. I get caught up in talkin’ ‘bout m’sire ‘n’ the craft regularly. People in t’ese parts simply call me ‘Death’. Easy t’remember. ‘N’ it kinda makes a decent name f’myself in t’is cold li’l corner o’the worl’.”

Not so humble on the name, but when someone gave you a title to carry, you carried it. If one had to guess, it was a generational title. Once eyes were laid on Minerva, the python merely flicked her tongue out at the bokor. She wasn’t puffing up, which was a good sign. For now.

“Well, whiche’er y’like. Must be nice t’be the consumer e’ry once in a while.” the Haitian chuckled.

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pocket watch on @weheartit.com - http://whrt.it/18nAJ8J

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