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witchcraftandburialdirt · 5 hours

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"Mmm … Well, such is a glittering assembly of scars and marks across the body - I imagine those tales are whispered in the towns of her passing. Hmm~ It always is a delight, seeing the little ones fumble over eachother running home to their mothers before the dark of night can consume them. I blush to be compared to such sinister beasts. Perhaps she, too, has become a command to obey - a warning." Robin let a low hum sound from his lips, his gaze lost in thought as he mentally sifted through the women enshrouded in the fog; each one a vivid image in his mind's gallery.

He finally settled on one, a maiden with raven-black tresses and a pallor as white as the grave, the call of crows a herald to her arrival - he imagined that was who his strange companion held in such esteem. Oh yes, he could taste the glossy ooze of guilt that rolled through her veins. Robin had seen the striations on her tongue, crudely sliced away - what fun horrors had she endured that day? He could only imagine; the possibilities were truly endless. Such a sweet maid - he imagined how hopelessly she screamed when her hands were carved away and she was left as useless as the day her brother drowned.

Robin sighed whimsically; the death of a child was always such a timeless tragedy.

Another lilting coo left him. Regardless his guess being accurate or not held little consequence for him; as he was confident that his Specteral companion would reveal the truth to him in due course. Although he found himself pushing those thoughts to the side as Ghostface addressed him once more, his heavy white lashes lowering into wispy crescents against his cheeks. His expression seemed to be one of happiness; but it was almost impossible to ascertain what was running through his mind as his gaze languidly slid over to meet the mask beside him. The silver radiance of the moon danced among the curls framing his face and he paused infront of Ghostface before stepping back as to stand side by side with them. The corners of his bowed lips lifted, causing his bottom lashes and eyebrows to gently arch as he tilted his head, unveiling a soothing voice brimming with contentment:

"Why yes - I would feel rather distressed about not receiving any sort of invitation to such … wicked affairs after being blessed by your wondrous tale." He crooned, folding his hands infront of his person before signaling for them to proceed further into the fog - as though he were leading them somewhere anew. "A most gratifying day, I came to you for mere entertainment and lo, I catch myself a feast alongside it. I have no doubt the morsel you provide will prove quite tantalizing." The melody of his mirth was delicate and airy, echoing the likeness of will o' the wisps flitting on sunlit paths luring onlookers into the enshrouding darkness of the forests never to be seen from again. A venomous grin spread wide and sharp, another beckoning lure:

"And in lieu of such pleasantries I give my most sincere thanks; and thus I grant thee honesty for any next questions you would wish to ask of me. One such as yourself is often pooling with inquiries ... and I am oh-so curious of their contents."

To be understood so entirely is at once immediately gratifying as it is unsettling. He senses the faint squirming sensation in his gut as something related—a distant cousin, perhaps—to the feeling of being misunderstood. That crawling, infuriating feeling. This, however, has an edge of something else that he cannot pinpoint. (Fear? No, no.) As if he'd been pried apart and left with every inch of his insides exposed to the chill air, vulnerable and raw. It's with purpose that he shoves these emotions aside in favor of his joy. Ghostface would like to be understood, he thinks. Only Danny would be debilitated by the weakness of discomfort.

"You are half correct," he answers, "the tale is wholly true, but she was not a victim of mine."

His self-satisfied grin, hidden behind the mask's gaping maw, widens. "In fact, she is someone that lives among us here."

An image of her is called forth: Her imposing stature, slim and elegant, and the avian tilt of her narrow face. He cannot take credit for her cruel fate. Robin is correct to assert that Ghostface would never remove someone's tongue (while they were alive); begging is half the point of torture, after all! What use is there in relishing someone's pain when they can't even beg for their life? No, Carmina was not his target. Her demise went beyond a mere bloodthirsty madman.

Ghostface cocked his head, mirroring the very woman he spoke of. Hunger. Robin's appetite was not of the usual sort. How to alleviate this predicament, indeed. "You want suffering? I can provide. Shall we find someone to torment?"

#ℝ𝕆𝔹𝕀ℕ 𝔸. 𝔹𝔸𝕌𝔻𝔼𝕃𝔸𝕀ℝ𝔼 ... 【 ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ-ᴇʏᴇᴅ ᴍᴀɢᴇ 】#ic #rp #verse: dead by daylight #mxlevolence #shaking them in a jar

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 1 day

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The world around him rippled in a dizzying spell as another pump of morphine slid into his veins to quickly extinguish the slowly bubbling pain in his side. He swore he heard her speak, her husky tone bleeding through the hazy buzzing in his ears - he somehow found his body tensing as if prepared to run. Robin shook his head and tried to focus on her as she approached, but his wintry lashes proved to be far too heavy as his eyes dragged shut again. Why was she pacing around so much ... ? Who even was she ... ? And why was every single survival instinct screaming in his head that she wasn't real. Well, real in the sense that her humanity was a ploy, a lure. He snickered ━

No, that was crazy! He felt as though he could smell colors at this point but he wasn't going to complain when another wave of exhaustion crashed over him as she finished her rather stressful phonecall. Robin watched as she carelessly tossed the phone away as if the device itself disgusted her. Was that the newest model? From what he could tell it was ... Was she some big shot celebrity? At least someone with a sizeable bank account and probably daddy issues and a few freaky fetishes. Oh. He had been staring at her for the past four minutes or so. Maybe four seconds? Fuck ... Time didn't feel real. Robin's attention was caught again when he heard her voice, shit - was she talking to him? Who else would she be talking to, dumbass?

"Oh you - you don't have'ta do anythin' like that ━ I ... I gotta feeling you're someone with a lot of strings to pull in this place, right? Now I owe you a debt so now you're going to make me into your pet or something?" Robin supposed that wouldn't be the worst thing, much better to play along with this sort of thing instead of getting his head bashed in again. A visible shudder ran up his spine as he recalled the moment, but between the trauma and blood lay the real horror; those cold, crimson eyes that he'd woken up to. They made his stomach turn.

"How ━ uh, how do you know my name?"

There's something close to a scowl that takes Evelynn's features as Abel continues so speak. "It's not like you've been in this life to be able to so freely judge where he lives." Her words are cold, gaze shifting from the person of interest to the doorway where the doctor had recently exited. There's a sudden whiff of pain, ever so delightful and entirely teasing coming from further within the hospital. She's not certain how much longer she'll be able to remain so calm.

If Abel says more she doesn't listen, granting one last glance to Robin before rising from her seat. Pacing in irritation, at the other on the line, and her current situation of where she is, until it is sudden that she finds herself too, at the doorway. It would be so easy to linger about, to make a few meals of her own. Food that's ripe.

And yet...

Only a quick turn of her heard back, to stare at the bewildered Robin does she know where she needs to be. To leave now, in search to fulfill her own hunger would make her no different to the one that left him discarded all those years ago. So the sigh she lets out is defeated, unsure if she even makes noise over Abel before she tracks back into the room.

Silence falls over her too, the sudden noise from the other end catching her attention. Her brows furrow in consideration, alongside confusion and assumption that Abel was meddling in things he certainly shouldn't. As much as she wants to scold, hearing the fragility in his voice shakes her even. To the point she stills by the foot of Robin's hospital bed, staring him down with a certain look glimmering in her eyes.

Evelynn wasn't a fool -- something was certainly wrong.

Still, doesn't mean she had to agree with this so called plan of his. "My place?" the demon just about barks, a sudden fury that just about dies as soon as it sparks. Already knee deep for leaving practice early, Evelynn cannot fathom how she's meant to explain that 'Surprise! Meet Robin! No, he's not my son but I'm going to be taking care of him!' to the girls. It already begins to form a headache, one that causes her to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"You do understand I do not live alone anymore, right?" The question comes out hardly above a hiss, disregarding the current panic he currently holds. It takes her a moment, for his words to finally click, that Evelynn relents and grips her phone tighter. "You could have said that to begin with, asshole. Look --" there's another sigh, a long glance to Robin as concern holds in the golden hues of her eyes. "I'll figure something out, on top of explaining how he now works for me."

"Just..." her voice trails off, entirely strained. "I can't stay here much longer."

Finally, after pacing the room and likely looking akin to a lunatic (here's another issue), she fully averts her attention to Robin and makes an attempt of a friendly smile. Have to practice somewhere for the big screen, after all. "I'm going to let you go, Abel." Not waiting for a response, she hangs up on him and tosses the phone aside. If it breaks, she really doesn't care. Quite frankly, the least of her problems.

"Now," and despite it all, her tone remains level as she finally addresses the human before her in the bed. "Robin, allow me to introduce myself."

#ℝ𝕆𝔹𝕀ℕ 𝔸. 𝔹𝔸𝕌𝔻𝔼𝕃𝔸𝕀ℝ𝔼 ... 【 ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ'ꜱ ᴀᴅᴠᴏᴄᴀᴛᴇ 】#ic #rp #verse: modern #agonizedembrace #drops this here

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 2 days

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"Oh my, ghosts of your past? I imagine that was frightfully upsetting. Even for a man such as yourself, all those frail and great shudder when confronted with such things."

Robin's lilting coo echoed across the rounded inner frame of the trunk as he lifted his face from it to address Igris; his selenic gaze sparkling with what seemed to be …pride. His wintry features lit up as they beheld Igris, causing the magician to descend from trees rolling roots, a cordial smile danced on the curves of his lips as he stepped into the grass path and settled beside the dragon. The mere presence of the man before him seemed to kindle embers deep within that began to thaw his heart, a warmth that Bel, too, appeared to sense and relish. Perhaps he had silently yearned for fate to intertwine their lives once more? Well ━ no use in hiding such things from someone like Igris; a valiant man with a soul kinder than he gave himself credit for.

"And yet here you stand, strong and tall, having sliced through many a thread that held you down in the pit of your worries. Perhaps not all ties are cut yet, but ... I can sense somehow that your soul is lighter, my friend. I am proud that you were able to conquer those weighty ordeals. Not many men can say that they've forced change within themselves; most prefer to stay stagnant and suffer through their deserved misery." The magus signaled for the man to follow along thewoodland path adorned with a sparkling, golden light. The hat adornments of the man were illuminated by the interplaying sunbeams, casting luminous tints and vibrant sheens as he continued his reply, "To heal requires the stength of character most mortals do not possess - I am glad to know you have found your path forward." A single glance filled with affection told of the sincerity laced through his words,

"But now it is time to rest from your weary journey, surely you did not think I would let you wander off so quickly now that we've been reunited. Your bones need at least two days rest and not a moment less ━ and you know better than to argue with me about these sorts of things. Come and I shall prepare you your favorite tea." He chuckled, "And do tell me more of your adventures, I will not deny my curiosities; you live such an excitingly strange life after all."

The warrior followed Robin around as they started their walk, the other very proficient on the little paths around the forest. it had been a while since Ferenir had come to Ionia admittedly...The world was so vast, it was difficult to stay in one place for a long time with how his life was...And this It was difficult to keep connections, much less relationship because of it.

Thus, he savored every single one of them.

"I'm quite glad to hear that.", he mused as he ducked under a branch. His eyes moved around, the Ionian forests always filled with unusual and beautiful sights. Flowers, trees, vines, colorful bushes in peculiar shapes...Mesmerizing.

But he was listening to Robin as well, and chimed in as the carefree-looking mage stopped to poke something in a tree.

"Absolutely, i would love to help. We can reinforce the entire structure while at it." It was no effort for him, he had a lot of knowledge about building from his home. And, admittely, he would have offered his help to the other even if he hadn't been asked. He did see the damages, and the structure's lack of proper support.

"As for me, it's been...something. I learned a lot, i fought a lot...i escaped a lot.", he played through his memories as he leaned over the mage's shoulder, trying to also see what was in there.

"I learned a few more tricks on how to use my power, and a lot more about blacksmithing. Encountered some ghosts of my past, and fought hordes of enemies to the point i grew tired of it." When he often said that he wished he could afford to be bored, he meant it.

#ℝ𝕆𝔹𝕀ℕ 𝔸. 𝔹𝔸𝕌𝔻𝔼𝕃𝔸𝕀ℝ𝔼 ... 【 ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ-ᴇʏᴇᴅ ᴍᴀɢᴇ 】#ic #rp #verse: league #steel and fire

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 2 days

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To be honest I'm absolutely loving DBD Robin's-being-the-worst-person-he-can-possibly-be era he's such a fun whimsical shithead and has been super fun to write.

#mun speaks #hi guys #just sittin here kickin my feet #its 6:50am #and i still can't sleep #Spotify

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 2 days

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The tattered soil bore the distinct imprint of his footsteps, stained with crimson fluid, as he departed from the site of his tribunal with a fluttering step; far too pleased with the bodies left in his wake. The holy figure idly ran his fingers over an extended patch of sliced skin, his vacant eyes surveying the radiant, ink-etched markings adorning the flesh and then - a sparkle of satisfaction. A scant number of the survivors were able to leave an impression on him, yet somehow … That Lord had given him quite the chase, he could still smell the iron and see the spray of his veins as he slipped into the everlasting darkness beyond life's fleeting final moments.

But the gracious whim of fate brought new scent to the air around him and dyed his vision red, drinking in the vibrant scenes his mind painted of a mountain of dripping bodies; where was that intoxicating perfume coming from? That is when he caught it in his periphery; sweet stupid thing wandering out into the unknown like that - did it not think that someone would see it? Tsk - quite the quaint figure swanning about all alone in the dark, blind to the dangers ahead. Even so the sight of the hobbling man was enough to bring forth a warm surge through Robin; how adorably pleasant. Yes yes ... he had stated it before that he had always loved survivors that thrashed and fought back; those were far from dull kills - so much blood to spill, guts to rip ... they always let out such larking melodies when he sharped the edge of his blade against their throats. To see such brave people fall was a delightful experience.

But now ...

Now his tongue longed to dip into something new; something delicious and sticky sweet. Into his open maw would drip honeyed nectar from crimson stained offal deep enough to lose his hands in ... His chest felt a flutter at such a beauteous thought. Robin's shape twirled on its toes amidst the moonlit landscape, his hair shimmering tresses reflecting the faint lunar rays as he confronted the injured man. What gratification! He half expected another wretch, but lo! He finds a most curious soul; fair and clean. Oh - rare be it for blood to be so pure, kind and virtuous; what a delectable morsel, and it was served to him within the silver light of the moon. He could see it now, it's simplicity and fear, thrashing uselessly under him hard enough to crack its skull on the ground as Robin's knife gored him again and again and again. Futile cries would sound like the wails of angels ... He had seen this one before at the campfires, always a helping hand and always leaving just in time before the shadows could snatch him away. Before the tips of its claws could burrow into the softs of his scruff and pull him back into a writhing pit ... But now She had blessed him with this succulent treat. Perhaps another gift from his beloved God?

A sharp ache in the muscles of his palm reminded him to calm his spirits and mind. And so it was that the bleeding dawn he was weaving together unraveled before his eyes as reality sunk back into place. He drew in a large breath and set off at a leisurely pace towards the injured man, his usually serene demeanor giving way to a carved out expression of care and empathy; and he steadied Dwight, grasping him by the elbows. His white robes tinging red. Their eyes met, and once again he was hit with an urge he could not fulfill. Not when there was so much more agony he could inflict, to scoop out the leftover twinkles of hope floating in the hue of Dwight's iris or carve his poxy betrayed face into the canvas of his flesh. The Sin Eater could feel Her pulsing approval in his heart. It felt like a devoted embrace, pride - almost.

"Now now, little sheep, calm your fluttering heart - it sounds as fast as a thumping hare - you needn't fear, sweet one. I am here to imbue a blessing unto thee." Enchanting chords of springtime delicately lifted his tenor , as though each word from his lips was a blessing bestowed unto the suffering spirit before him - within this all remnants of malice had melted away like the frost surrendering to the sun's radiant beams. Robin smiled sweetly, practiced. His pale fingers caressed the man's cheek and he pressed the pad of his index finger to the man's lips, "Shhh, don't struggle against me ─ you don't have the strength for it. Far foolish to deny the help of one such as I. A shephard to your wandering soul come to guide you back to your stables." Somehow, he managed to guide them both downward to kneel and rest upon the soft soil, a beautiful field of rotting green ribbons awaited to bind the leftovers of this sacrificial lamb within the lulling fate of all mortal souls.

"As spoken in Malachi 4:2 ─ 'But for you who fear My name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall'. ... " He smiled, lush and kindly, tenderly beginnning to care for the wound - despite his urge to rip into it, he would behave. After all, it would feel all the more gratifying to rip open a sealed wound and watch each stitch pop from its hold. Robin's fingertips brought the edges of his stole to the bloodied mess, his touch as delicate as the larking coo of his voice, "Hush now, child, soon the pain will fade and you will be returned to the wondrous path before you, paved with choices that have led you to your destiny." The grace exhalted from his smile and crescented eyes almost eclipsed the prominent canines that showed beneath his bowed lips, as though he were from the writings of an ancient folktale. A charming Devil, or even a playful sprite:

"Fair one, tell me of your name. I do wish to know the title of one valiant enough to escape from Her foul grasp. How was it that you escaped?"

@witchcraftandburialdirt emerges from the fog....

{ Something about the figure before him makes Dwight nervous. Uneasy. Something familiar yet incredibly foreign at the same time. . . He blinks and steadies himself as his fingers clutch the wound in his side (he couldn't bring himself to unzip his hoodie and examine it... he feels as if he might puke if he sees what's truly causing him so much pain). His chest rises and falls as his lungs battle for oxygen, still uncertain as to whether or not the form he's observing wanted to HELP HIM or HURT HIM....

#ℝ𝕆𝔹𝕀ℕ 𝔸. 𝔹𝔸𝕌𝔻𝔼𝕃𝔸𝕀ℝ𝔼 ... 【 ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ-ᴇʏᴇᴅ ᴍᴀɢᴇ 】#ic #rp #verse: dead by daylight #leadxxr #hi this was supposed to be like 1 paragraph and then idk what happened #poor dwight #also! hello! super excited to write with you! ♥

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 2 days

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If there was divinity he had found it in every fiber that made up the warmth of the man in his arms as if he were the rib plucked from Adam to make Eve. He was everything he never wanted to let go of.

brb crying ━

@witchcraftandburialdirt asked:

Upon the dock they stood, the nightly tresses of his benefactor seemed to frolic amongst the salt soaked wind, flavored by the very sea whose waves seemed to bow before his beauty, though no pleasure crossed his features as he gazed outwards in the direction of home. Home which now felt so foreign and far as the promise of unfulfilled joy consumed his very being, a bitter fate which he had paid for marked into reality by plank falling onto timber. The gulls' aubade to the morning sun resounded in the man's ears as screams, as if to weep upon the agony of passion below them, a sweet poison coursing within the man's veins which was placed upon him throughout the passage of time-- one where the fury of the field was the only place solace existed. Yet in the silence of the slain and the intimacy inside woven walls, the man found only the whispers of Tarhos' voice; deep and rumbling like thunder over wheat, and yet…so tender in his words. As though each was entreating for the grace and mercy the knight had never received within his life span, a hushed cry meant solely for him. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to imagine the night without that voice, without being held so comfortably, without his blue eyes to stare into and lips to kiss.

The vision reminded him of the Hell priests would warn of. How could he ever be happy again without having him by his side to hold and cherish?

The paralians were swift to cut the ropes, releasing sails which eagerly caught the tempest within their canvas. Before this time…long ago, those great sails would have been the victory banner of Christ, stitched together with angel's raiments as they were hoisted into the beautiful azure of the morning sky. Yet this covenant of hope was embittered, what would have once brought him joy had burned into ash on his tongue. Freedom and home…did they truly mean anything now with this burning fire within the cavern of his chest which only cried for one thing? One simple, lovely thing that would be ripped from his hands the moment his foot stepped onto that ship. That single movement would throw Tarhos into his past with only a marbled face carved from memory to be his bride. How foolish could one be, to toss a life of sunshine and quiet meadows away if only to be beside one man who brought such brutality and anguish? To stand so close to that which he had longed for, only to now feel half-hearted and bereft about such a blessing; it could never amount to the whispered prayers placed against his neck within the nights' hours.

Not when blood soaked hands cradled his hips as though holding communion, a reverent touch remarked by the essence of fluttering desire brought to life by the breathy refrains which left their lips after each shared kiss. How the Knights' breath and voice filled his spirit with the tolling of death bells and the song of church choirs; a cacophony of dread and brilliance wrapped into a singular man which held his heart tightly–as if ready to feast upon it. By now that carnivorous carnal hunger was less a blanket over them both and moreso a red threaded border which swaddled this newfound emotion. That which vexes all men, what it meant— and how that feeling would doom him, but alas…Tarhos was the one thing he would never repent for. He swallowed the pit of misery in his throat, feeling it build into a slowly filling pool of dread ── He couldn't do it - he wouldn't, and so, his plush lips parted to speak:

“I … I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you, like this, forever. Even after life.

── Medieval Verse

There was something always so solemn about the coast, it's beautiful blue waves lapping against the pale beaches with hundreds of ships some trading bodies like they were cattle put to auction. He was no stranger to cages like that. Huddled together with other men and women passing disease between each other like the very air they were breathing was caustic to their lungs. The same venom held even now when he knew what the plan was, what the maiden had asked of him so long ago. The ache in his chest wasn't the air this time as much as he would pretend it was. No. Haruko had swiftly become his entire world.

Every scream from the gulls sounded like a murder and the unfurling of sales like the wings of a great beast ready to snatch him from his grasp, but he had no right to demand the other to stay. While the knight knew cages and long roads very well, the maiden knew the sea and the shackles below deck. Passed between lords like a prized canary to sing for their amusement his wings had been clipped every time they grew back. He knew the snarling cornered animal in his tent when they first met far better than most. He was just a bed warmer to the captain, a piece of flesh to keep his rabid dog satisfied and yet... he never touched him.

The silence was deafening, but all he could do was watch. For all his faults he would never force someone to stay near him. Haru was his own person just like he was even if most wouldn't see it that way. He watched the wool of the maiden's dress flutter in the wind and the last call for boarding overtook the gulls screams before the maiden's voice pierced the silence and a wave of relief like he had never known washed over him, "...I want you to stay too." A quiet admission, but relief flooded every word. The knight helped the maiden down from the dock and back into his arms.

If there was divinity he had found it in every fiber that made up the warmth of the man in his arms as if he were the rib plucked from Adam to make Eve. He was everything he never wanted to let go of.

#save #saving this forever #oh my godddddddddddddddddddddddddd #spuks writing once again has me in a chokehold #no one look at me #im emotional #✧ ── 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐊𝐎 : ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴀᴏꜱ...ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ.#hi I love them a normal amount-

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 3 days

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Ok y’all I am home from suchhhh an amazing trip meeting Spük!!!! Oh it was so magical So today I’ll be focusing on writing and busting out replies to drafts and asks! :)

#mun speaks #hi everyone!!!#I had so much fun oh my god

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 5 days

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[4:30 pm - Tarhos to Robin] - If you dissect him I'm never talking to you again. Go dissect Aita or someone else if you're worried about someone existing without your consent.

[4:30 pm - Tarhos to Robin] - He's not a soulless wretch he's those hot vampires that teen girls are always obsessed with I think?

── 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ── MODERN VERSE

[ 5:00pm Robin -> Tarhos ]: Oh please Tarhos, I'm just teasing. I wouldn't *dream* of ruining the one therapist that you actually jive with.

[ 5:01pm Robin -> Tarhos ]: He's a young man in his late 20's maybe early 30's with a cane - I'm not sure teenage girls would be fawning over him. But then again you're like 70 and your boyfriend looks at your ass constantly so what do I know.

#ℝ𝕆𝔹𝕀ℕ 𝔸. 𝔹𝔸𝕌𝔻𝔼𝕃𝔸𝕀ℝ𝔼 ... 【 ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ'ꜱ ᴀᴅᴠᴏᴄᴀᴛᴇ 】#bells of black sunday #ic #rp #verse: modern

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 5 days

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"hey, robin." akali rests her hands on his desk. "eve said to come to you 'bout a farm?"

── 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ── MODERN VERSE

To say it took a lot to surprise Robin was an understatement; his extensive exposure to the most brutal aspects of human and inhuman behavior had rendered him desensitized to the point where he regarded murder as a pastime. His first victim had been his own wide-eyed, uncorrupted naivety, after that … the mark of Cain had been carved upon his soul. Yet still when Akali opened her mouth and spoke those words Robin was struck by a feeling of pure dread. The words seemed to tighten a noose around his neck and rendered him unable to swallow the coffee in front of him as a cold, constricting feeling enveloped his throat and left him with a familiar, icy sensation coursing through his veins.

After placing the coffee cup on its coaster, he paused to collect himself and gather his thoughts into a cohesive pile. Wintry lashes lifted and his verdant stare shifted towards her, every light within his iris marred by the shadows of the countless lives he had inadvertently ended and the heartrending cries that bled from their battered lips. He had done a stellar job at concealing all of those atrocities away, feigned surprise at the misfortunes of fellow music artists and affected disbelief when an unexpected death or demise left the local news anchors speechless.

But now? Haha - now?

Now Akali knew she stood infront of a Devil.

"The Farm? No no - I am not the one to speak to about it, but he's been listening."

Robin's attention was drawn just behind her and watched as the shadows morphed and, instinctually, the chill in his veins finally froze over whatever residual warmth was left in his heart. The inky obscurity uttered with a voice akin to grinding metal and the incessant, gnawing sounds of insects burrowing through every corpse that had ever rotted on Earth. The assistant hastily turned his head, his subconscious driving the movement in a desperate ploy to protect itself from the eldritch terror that peeled away from the shadows.

ꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴇᴠᴇ'ꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʀɪꜰʟᴇ, ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢ, ᴍɪꜱꜱ.

It shifted through a myriad of shapes and forms molded from unrecognizable tracts of pulsing flesh and veins of gristle that tilted longingly towards the rapper. Something thrashed across the shifting sinews and its eventual breathing echoed the tones of a dial-up modem made of flesh. Above Akali's throat hovered a hand, or the mental equivalent thereof, which clutched the air around it with clicking joints. The hand's grasp tightened, threatening to collar her with its threads of sinew and blood vessels, ready to hoist her aloft from the rafters until its maw devoured every drip drop of blood from her gagging and gasping would-be carcass. It was only when the sorrowful wails of the burning angels had subsided that its presence took on a simple and unitary form; a devilish gentleman.

There Abel stood, his wicked allure radiating, his complexion as delicate as porcelain, his eyes a deep, rich maroon syrup, inviting and enticing, framed by a sleek, black, wavy tapered haircut that highlighted his striking cheekbones and enigmatic charm. Dressed impeccably in a black suit, he bore a brooch that eerily resembled the distinctive shape and hue of Robin's earring. He was uncannily perfect -

Robin observed as Abel quietly circled around her, and he felt an inexplicable weakness overtake him, his knees buckling slightly despite his sitting position. Abel, maintaining a constant courteous expression, inched closer to Robin and settled down beside him, a subtle grin playing at the corners of his lips once he shifted his gaze to Akali. His eyes mirrored a dying world. The repugnant noises that had once dominated the air were now supplanted by a melodious and alluring low timbre as he fixed his unwavering stare upon her,

"Please, Miss Akali, sit. I would love to discuss with you the details of what Eve has disclosed about my business." Somehow it seemed like he had already fashioned a 7 foot hole down deep in the soil for her, one wrong answer - one wrong move and the world would turn black. He tilted his head much like a raven and his brows stitched up in faux concern, "Surely you can understand why I would be oh-so curious about the information you've been given."

#ℝ𝕆𝔹𝕀ℕ 𝔸. 𝔹𝔸𝕌𝔻𝔼𝕃𝔸𝕀��𝔼 ... 【 ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ'ꜱ ᴀᴅᴠᴏᴄᴀᴛᴇ 】#𝔸𝔹𝔼𝕃 … 【 ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙʏꜱꜱᴀʟ ᴄᴀʟʟ 】#ic #rp #verse: modern #kalijhomentethi #The Devil is a Gentleman~#Hi nobuu mwah

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 6 days

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Her finger idly rounded the rim of her mug as she walked through the well traveled path before. Was this a good idea? Certainly not. Sable had been warned time and time again about leaving the campfire, but how could she not? Not like sitting around and waiting to die again was doing her any favors either. She stopped in the clearing hearing rustling behind her and the all to pleasant feeling of adrenaline started to creep up her spine. Places like this always gave her the creeps and that was the best part in normal circumstances. She turned around forcing her confidence back into her stride, "Are you in the bushes? Skulking around like a creep isn't any way to greet people." - Sable @ Robibi

── 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ── DEAD BY DAYLIGHT VERSE

"Little lamb, you've strayed rather far from your fire-lit fold, haven't you?"

The formidable presence emerged behind her unannounced and without a sound; fingers curled around her shoulder to turn her around. As she turned, the figure's mask-like features came into view, accompanied by the ominous sound of his neck creaking - as though his vertebrae were rotting stairs in an abandoned home. His vacant eyes, devoid of life's light, expanded in response to her presence, framing a chilling grin that failed to touch the depths of his gaze; deep enough to drown in. His actions mirrored his expression's ominous hue as he circled her, poised to pounce like a menacing beast, craving to draw her blood and saturate the ground beneath them with her vitreous fluid. The urge to sink his canines into her neck permeated his being, he could only imagine the satisfying 'pop' her flesh would make once his rugged tiers dug into it.

Not yet ... not yet.

Despite the agitation in his twitching knife-hand, Robin preserved his poise, settling himself before her. The harsh breeze that blew around them sounded like the whispering screams of a thousand mad victims and caused his lengthy white locks to dance dramatically against the ominous fog's backdrop; Her hand painting pale strokes through the air. His mouth was affixed into a seemingly permanent smile, lips full and split by a sharp cupid’s bow; the beauty was almost eerie in its flawlessness. Almost … His eyes were dead and cold as ice; decaying marbles in the hollows of his sockets framed by wintry long lashes. It would take but a brief moment for anyone to realize that no vestige of humanity remained in whatever hollow husk of a person presented itself to her. He remained unblinking and unyielding to the wind's relentless assault against the both of them; he couldn't hope to take his gaze from her … not when it was so easy to imagine how easy it would be to snap her beautiful neck.

“You're not supposed to be here, sweetling, it isn't your time ... and as much as I would be happy to assist you in your noblest sacrifice, I don't want to damage you. " With a soft touch, his hand lingered on her shoulder as he stared intently at her, until he plucked a single blade of grass from her jacket - like a bird's beak picking at a sunbleached carcass - and flicked it away. The moon illuminated his hair with a halo of ethereal, luminescent light as his smile turned gentle and his fingers brushed the underside of her chin like a father to a beloved daughter,

"'God will provide for Herself the lamb for a burnt offering, my child.' I will be here when it is your time, and I promise I will stay with you afterwards. Even though it pains me to see you running from She who tended so adoringly to you, but ... I believe soon enough you will be bathed in Her holy light; then you will understand ... Worthy is the Lamb to be slain, after all." His lids fell halfway, "But for now, little dove, it is time for you to return to your flock ... Many of the wolves lingering in these fields will not be as merciful as me, and She will not take kindly to you swanning around as though free will is yours ... Do not fret though, She will forgive you. In time."