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brinkofdiscovery · 1 year

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Hunted

Marcello sat frozen, wide eyed, feeling like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws.

This setting is Gabe’s domain! It belongs to @crash-bump-bring-the-whump. Severin (the creature) is mine. He sucks.

This is a continuation of this piece

Contains: Overheating, Unsafe binding, Stalking, Blood, Gore, Choking, Suffocation, Threats of dismemberment, Guns

The air was oppressively hot, as heavy as his clothes that clung to him–soaked with sweat as he made his way through the empty streets. Marcello gripped his bicep as he walked, checking every few blocks to see if the bleeding had stopped and only seeing fresh blood every time.

He tried to wipe sweat from his brow with his free hand, only managing to mix it with the blood that had dripped down his arm and covered his palm. He was nauseous from the heat, dizzy and out of breath. He felt like he should have already passed out. He wanted to stop and strip out of his binder, but he couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

Something was following him. He could feel its gaze boring holes into the back of his skull. He had felt it the second he’d ended up here, something at his heels that he couldn’t see when he looked over his shoulder.

He kept walking. He couldn’t run. Whatever was following him… he knew it wanted that. It’d turn this into a chase, and he’d be dead the second it caught him. He scanned the city around him, glancing down every alleyway as he passed it.

“I’ll know it when I see it.” The only descriptor for the location he had. He cursed the fact he hadn’t turned this job down in the first place. “Has an elevator… Know it when I see it.”

“Know it when you see it…” A voice parroted from behind him. Marcello slammed to a stop. In one motion he pulled his gun from his hip and turned off the safety as he whipped around. No one was behind him. Just the empty city blocks stretching on into forever.

“Okay,” Marcello whispered, turning to press his back against the wall as his pulse raced in his ears. “It’s fine, you’re alone. You’re losing it, but you’re alone.”

“Alone…” The voice hummed, somehow still from behind him. A cold hand reached out of the wall; Marcello watched, frozen in place, as featureless black fingers stretched from the shadow and curled around his shoulder. “You have to know by now that’s not true.”

Something like ink soaked into Marcello’s clothes where it touched him. Marcello opened his mouth to speak, words catching in his throat as a second shadowy hand seized his wrist from the other side. The gun clattered to the ground, and whatever was behind him spun him to face the wall.

“Stop! Fuck, what–” He stared up at the wall, at two impossibly long arms stretching out from the brick. “What the fuck is this?” He tried to pull away, only for the hand on his shoulder to grip him tight, and the one around his wrist to suddenly yank him upward. Marcello’s voice broke in a sudden terrified cry.

Two bright circles lit up against the shadowed wall, like someone had cut through the darkness from the other side. The circles blinked, staring back down at Marcello as a wide, paper cut-out smile spread to life beneath them.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, little thing?” The warped, unholy shape of something close to human emerged from the wall. Empty eyes stared down at Marcello above a cartoonish grin. It was like some freakish shadow puppet come to life, Marcello could see the wall behind it through its expression. “There’s nowhere for you to go down here.”

Marcello silently struggled for words. The creature stared back down at him, still smiling.

The eyes shifted, somehow. Moved across its face as it focused lower on Marcello’s form. The hands holding him in place shifted again, forcing his injured arm into the air as the other arm wrapped like a rope around his neck.

“Ohh! Looks like someone already got to you.” The creature laughed and twisted Marcello’s arm further. It snaked down to look closer at the wound. “Interesting, they didn’t do much to you at all.”

Marcello focused on using his free hand to fight the way the creature’s arm tightened around his neck. It directed its gaze away from his arm again, watching his face with that wide eyed vacant smile as he struggled.

It tightened its grip, pulling him closer to the ground and smiling wider as his feet went out from under him.

“Where were you going?” It asked, voice light and floating.

“Fuck you.” Marcello wheezed.

“Oh, not an answer.” Dark shadows wrapped around Marcello’s legs, pulling him roughly to his knees on the concrete. He stared up with wide eyes to the creature looming over him. The arm around his neck tightened, squeezing tight as Marcello’s vision blurred.

Additional tendrils of darkness, wherever they came from, spread across Marcello’s face, covering his mouth and nose as the pressure around his neck released. His shoulders dropped and his chest heaved, trying desperately to pull in a breath out of reflex. The mask of darkness held tight, suffocating him and keeping him in place as the monster stared down at him.

“Let’s try this again.” It started, looming over Marcello as his lungs screamed for relief. “When I let you go, you tell me where you were off to.”

Marcello would have nodded if he could, but the creature seemed to take his fear as a yes. The shadows unwrapped from his face, and he fell to the ground with a desperate gasp for air.

He could feel it watching him, he swore he could even feel its smile. It tightened its grip around his legs, like it knew his next move was going to be for his gun.

“Well?” That sickeningly gentle voice teased from above. “Do you have an answer for me?”

“I’m…” Marcello managed to prop himself up on his elbows. Whatever black ink the monster was made of dripped from his face and neck; it coated his wrists and mixed with the blood on his skin. “I’m working. I’m looking for someone.”

“Looking for who?” The smile in its voice was clear–so content and proud of itself.

Marcello didn’t look away from the concrete. He just shook his head–a silent refusal.

He could feel impossibly long fingers wind into his hair. The monster pulled his head back, he met paper cut-out eyes with a defiant glare.

“Do you know what I’m made of?” The creature asked.

“Something fucking–nasty?” Marcello could feel it soaking into his hair, threatening to drip down the back of his neck.

It pulled back on Marcello’s hair again, guiding him to sit up on his knees.

“Shadows.” It answered. “Darkness. Which means I fit wherever darkness does. I could crawl inside you right now. Tear you apart from the inside out. Pop you like a little balloon.”

He could feel cool darkness slipping between his parted lips–it gripped his jaw as the other hand twisted in his hair, wrenching his jaw open and holding him in place.

“Looking for who?” It asked again. Marcello sat frozen, wide eyed, feeling like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws. The creature gripped him tighter, drawing a strained noise from the back of his throat as it forced his mouth open wider.

“Who are they? Could they save you now, lost soul?” Marcello’s voice caught in a whimper as his jaw was strained further. The darkness at his teeth crept closer to the back of his tongue.

Marcello tried to pull away and the creature released him, moving to hold him by the wrists as he coughed and sputtered and choked on the ink in his throat.

“Gabriel!” He answered between strained coughs and gasps. “Gabriel Rivas!”

He kept his eyes closed as he caught his breath, looking up in time to see the creature had fallen still. It stared at him with the same wide eyes, but its smile had vanished.

Tendrils of shadows unwound from Marcello’s wrists and legs, and the creature backed fully away from him. He lunged for his gun, and it let him. When he rolled onto his back to take aim, it was standing where he’d left it, still watching him.

Marcello trembled, staring at the monster over the barrel of his gun. It stared back, empty eyes floating in a featureless black mass.

They watched each other silently. Neither one of them moved. Marcello didn’t pull the trigger. A smile split the darkness before it finally spoke up again.

“You were going the right way.” It motioned to the sidewalk beside them, “Don’t let me stop you.”

—

Marcello didn’t stop running. His chest screamed for mercy, his binder felt like it would crush his ribs if he kept going, but he didn’t stop. He knew the shadow monster wasn’t behind him anymore, but the feeling of being hunted lingered. He kept his gaze ahead, haunted by the screams that echoed through the city and followed him through the streets.

A skyscraper sat at the end of the street, double doors beckoning him as he picked up his pace. It looked generic, overwhelmingly indistinguishable from the buildings around it, but he was drawn towards it. As the double doors opened, the panic in his chest subsided–even as the walls around him stretched into impossibly tall obsidian slabs he felt secure.

He took a moment to slip out of his binder under his tank top, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as the pressure on his lungs was relieved. He let his binder rest around his neck and looked around him. The stranger said he’d know the place when he saw it. This was it.

#whump #my writing #my ocs #Marcello #Severin #uhhhh anymore tags? idk

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whitegoldtower · 11 months

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What I love most about my OC, Severin Nervayne:

People who meet him in the modern day see a kindly Dunmer. A single dad (widower) who works as a professor in the college of Winterhold, teaching the history of necromancy and its dangers. A benevolent looking lil’ guy with circular glasses, a messy black bun. A guy who looks after everyone and would drop whatever he’s doing to help you out, and who would defend you to the corners of Nirn and back.

But he used to be a fucking Telvanni Mage specialising in Necromancy, highly ambitious and extremely arrogant. A tough mf with a history even further back of pit fighting and tomb raiding to pay his bills and fund his skooma addiction.

Nobody sees that side of him any more. Well, except for those who saw him in Windhelm when Rolff Stone-Fist called him and his daughter ‘filthy grey-skins’ and told him to ‘fuck off back to Morrowind’. Dude woke up the following morning stuffed into one of those big urns in the Grey Quarter, with the last thing he remembers seeing being Sev’s fist flying towards his face.

If he takes his glasses off, you know you’re about to get your shit rocked

Also he has never harmed a child before but he did absolutely blow this little nord shit’s puny mind with his ✨vibrant✨ vocabulary after the kid kept making fun of Llevana’s burns and teasing her until she wouldn’t leave the house.

All Llevana remembers of it is being upset, Severin fussing over her until she told him what happened, him asking her to point the kid out, and then him leaving the house for like 2 minutes tops. She looks out of the window to see her dad fucking crouched down in front of the kid, with a deadpan expression as he talks to him. Sev comes back in, she goes back outside and those kids have fucking GONE. He still won’t tell her what he said to this day.

#tesblr #skyrim #skyrim oc #dunmer #college of winterhold #my oc: severin nervayne

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