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Entry tags:
- disco elysium: harrier du bois,
- dogs b&c: badou nails,
- good omens: crowley (tv),
- gundam wing: heero yuy,
- hereditary: peter graham,
- mcu: loki odinson,
- mcu: peter quill,
- penny dreadful: vanessa ives,
- sotl: clarice starling,
- stranger things: eddie munson,
- stranger things: henry creel,
- the sandman: johanna constantine,
- vampire the requiem: camille,
- watch_dogs: the wrench
audio | un: hidden
( cw; cannabis )
[ There is no softness to the voice that murmurs onto the network in the midst of the night when people should be sleeping. Those sweet souls are not her concern if they don't wish to hear. She offers no comfort, but a reminder of what's been lost—what can still be taken.
In doing so, the woman's raspy words creep out from beneath the shadows with a voice that drags—no, it crawls—over ceaselessly hot coals. In its shudder to whisper out a poem borrowed from home, there is a smolder always bordering on a choked gasp. But no hurry, no hurry. Where do you have to be? ]
Hush, take a moment. Take a breath; hold it. Feel the shiver of a fingernail at the nape of your neck, feel it trace the curve of your ear to borrow your attention. Only just. No, don't turn. Don't touch. Just listen; the whisper can still singe. ]
I hear that we have been denied the ephemeral — to exist endlessly within a perverse mirror of God’s image. Here, nature should protest. Instead it menaces with its silence.
[ There is a silence of her own while Vanessa takes a drag to sigh out a thin stream of smoke into the evening air. Her voice now drops so low it grates and pinches too close, like gravel against tender feet. Tickling whispers are gone; they flee the weighted melancholy that persists. ]
We carry on within a dollhouse between worlds. Do not be tempted by its pretty trinkets, lest you truly be cursed to wander the demimonde forevermore.
[ Denial still rules paramount over the rumor of immortality, but the lack of bodies is an...unsettling implication. ]
...The graves lie empty.
[ There is no softness to the voice that murmurs onto the network in the midst of the night when people should be sleeping. Those sweet souls are not her concern if they don't wish to hear. She offers no comfort, but a reminder of what's been lost—what can still be taken.
In doing so, the woman's raspy words creep out from beneath the shadows with a voice that drags—no, it crawls—over ceaselessly hot coals. In its shudder to whisper out a poem borrowed from home, there is a smolder always bordering on a choked gasp. But no hurry, no hurry. Where do you have to be? ]
Old Yew which graspeth at the stones...that name the under-lying dead; Thy fibres net the dreamless head, thy roots are wrapt about the bones.[ To that, a pause that looms with omen. ]
The seasons bring the flower again, and bring the firstling to the flock; And in the dusk of thee, the clock beats out the little lives of men.[ Now, a strange yearning nearly begins to dissipate the smoke that seems to scorch her throat.
Hush, take a moment. Take a breath; hold it. Feel the shiver of a fingernail at the nape of your neck, feel it trace the curve of your ear to borrow your attention. Only just. No, don't turn. Don't touch. Just listen; the whisper can still singe. ]
O not for thee the glow, the bloom...who changest not in any gale, nor branding summer suns avail, to touch thy thousand years of gloom.[ For a time, it seems that may be all. Then, in the same hush she speaks with a more particular address: ]
And gazing on thee, sullen tree, sick for thy stubborn hardihood; I seem to fail from out my blood...and grow incorporate into thee.
I hear that we have been denied the ephemeral — to exist endlessly within a perverse mirror of God’s image. Here, nature should protest. Instead it menaces with its silence.
[ There is a silence of her own while Vanessa takes a drag to sigh out a thin stream of smoke into the evening air. Her voice now drops so low it grates and pinches too close, like gravel against tender feet. Tickling whispers are gone; they flee the weighted melancholy that persists. ]
We carry on within a dollhouse between worlds. Do not be tempted by its pretty trinkets, lest you truly be cursed to wander the demimonde forevermore.
[ Denial still rules paramount over the rumor of immortality, but the lack of bodies is an...unsettling implication. ]
...The graves lie empty.
crying over this i'm so sorry about her
[ You all are the weird ones here. ]
i'm also crying at this oml
has he known a bigger regret before now
he'll be hard-pressed to think of one t b h
you got theories?
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[ If he thought she was unsettling before? Don't ask, Peter Quill. ]
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knowledge is half the battle
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scout's honor
[ not that he was ever a boy scout ]
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yes
[ It helps that she didn't ask for an essay. True or False questions were always his preferred quiz format in school – you always had a 50/50 chance. ]
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Do you believe in the unseen, Peter Quill? Do you believe that there is a world which thrives in the shadows, hidden from the common eye but felt deep within? The tickle at the nape of your neck when you were certain to be alone?
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See? He's nice.
It takes a little longer for him to respond, this time, mostly because he's digesting this information, and mostly because there's a part of him that's calling bullshit. But he did ask for theories. And this is certainly a theory. And he does recall jokingly calling this place some kind of purgatory, even if it was only in the safety of his own head, so...
... yeah, all right. He's going down this rabbit hole. ]
do you mean like ghosts? or just the supernatural in general
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It isn't a state that the common man pays attention to, if he were even able to notice. These things in the dark, they are there for a reason.
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that we're in some kind of soul world, maybe?
just trying to understand you, here
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I do not think this to be Hell, but it could be if you tread far enough. This city, somehow, does not seem to be death-touched, but I can't be certain it hasn't clouded my senses.
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i think i'd prefer this to be some kinda psychic astral projection thingy if the alternative is being
you know
dead.
[ He's done that, already. Being dead. He'd rather not have another repeat of that, any time soon.
To say nothing of how Nebula and Gamora would kick his goddamn ass for getting himself killed.
The second part makes him frown a little, more curious than anything. ]
on account of the empty graves you mean?
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With senses so obscured, Death may loom around every corner without our knowing.
[ Should she work on her bedtime stories? ]
Perhaps we ourselves are the pale horsemen. Is any one of us here free of sin?
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i dunno
there are kids here
maybe at least one of them hasn't done anything too bad
[ One can hope, anyway. ]
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Yes, I am especially troubled by the young ones falling victim to some of the excesses here. They may be ill prepared for any imminent threats. Do you know the age of our youngest?
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hard to work that organically into a conversation
like hi welcome to being kidnapped here's your grocery bag for looting the stores and by the way how old are you?
and speaking of awkward transitions i don't actually know your name yet
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[ Perhaps she can attempt to ease up on the man. However he had earlier tested her patience, any of her frustrations are toward the predicament and not the other captives. ]
Vanessa Ives. Miss Ives, if you like.
[ Because she has noticed people around here tend to jump to very familiar conclusions with names. ]
As for the children, regardless of age, those who cannot protect themselves ought to be seen to in some manner. They should not be alone in this shadow of a city. Can you imagine the tragedy of a child going missing, while we carry on unknowing?
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that said, i dunno how you even start enforcing a daycare like that
"you must be this tall to scavenge by yourself"?
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[ A poor jest, though frankly Vanessa has witnessed children capable of murder. Still, that isn't the norm, and she's aware that the situation is a little impossible, there's no ignoring it, so she might as well step into morbid humor for the sake of sanity.
She does still wish there was a way to manage the safety of the city's less capable individuals. Vanessa has never cared much for spending time with children; such pure souls are best far away from her...but she can little abide being told she isn't capable of something, which is exactly what this City constantly means to do. ]
We may not find our answers with ease, and we may not find the ones we wish for, but it would only serve our enemy to accept defeat. Perhaps inspiration will better reach you when strange women aren't disturbing you in the dead of night.
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it always could've been worse
i mean a strange woman could've been literally trying to kill me in my sleep instead of just being kind of spooky
i appreciate you sharing whatever info you've got tho. friend of mine and i are scavenging for whatever we can find out
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[ Her victims deserve to feel their death. ]
And so, it would be best for us to remain friendly and in contact to continue to share such news, even if we have yet to discern which discoveries carry meaning.
The name of your friend?
[ Perhaps she knows them. ]
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