#☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) .

[midmare]

@caelitus ( jellal ) said: ❛ i am this close away from strangling you. ❜

sparks crackled in the breeze, a glint of challenge flashing through wicked blood - red eyes, goading, rousing the malice that lurked beneath skin. head tilted back, chin raised, his neck bared slightly as if in encouragement, mockery draping his contour. plum - stained lips pulled into a smirk. “ do it. ” words dripping with derision, measured arrogance, paraded clarity of expectation . . . ‘you won’t do it’. 

there was a line between the two, a boundary that could not be crossed — that macbeth prodded at with enthusiasm, every day, in hopes it would smear. the boundary was one that held him captive on his side, like a chained monster, locked in from the outside, & the only thing to do was to drag the person on the other side in, trap them both behind the line, as if to prove that they were both monsters after all was said & done. ( he had never considered breaking free, trying to shed the darkness that made him a monster. )

“ i’ve gotten bored of your good - boy act. just try to make it interesting. ”

#caelitus #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) . #this is shorter than what i usually write #i hope thats ok

[midmare]

@srpentress ( minerva ) said: “ fools will be fools. ”

of all the crime sorciere members to be partnered with on a hunt, minerva orland was by far the least maddening of those who were not formerly oracion seis. macbeth might even go as far as to think that the sorceress was the best person he could have been stuck with, given that he must tolerate the assistance of someone outside his past, bereft social circle. it’s good to make new friends, or so he’d been told. ‘friend’ was not the epithet he would use though, & what made minerva warrant the alternative denomination was that she likely shared the bleak sentiment. they were not friends, rather, like - minded individuals who abhorred the notion of maudlin camaraderie that was so often peddled as if gospel. moreover, as he’d quickly discovered, minerva was efficient & practical, there was no dissent over methods used to smoke out the targeted dark guild.

he may have agreed to be on his best behavior, retire bygone ways of darkened morals, wicked souls, but it was not so easily done — to abandon the teachings once beaten into feeble, malleable bodies, aching bones & faded bruises spelling out his curriculum. don’t show weakness nor mercy, fear as a fundamental principle, to lose was to die was to disgrace. he hadn’t felt an ounce of apology when he had a dark mage cornered by his lonesome, then impressed upon the unfortunate man enough dread to pry open a clenched jaw. “ tell us where your hideout is, or . . .” & the man did. macbeth had wondered if his partner would stop him, or cast silent disapproval his way, etc, but they ended up leaving the wretched man comatose for the rune knights to find without batting an eyelash, as if it were second nature.

when the two mages arrived, they entered on little ceremony, such was his pride, the arrogance that bled from his every pore. the dark guild’s hideout was damp & drafty, made up of brick, cobblestone, the blood of whoever crawled into the walls to rot. macbeth wrinkled his nose. hollow crimson eyes scanned the hall, deserted of the dark mages they were seeking out, but with vestiges of daily life scattered about the room. an open book, a pitcher of ice water, plates of steaming food — people had been here recently, but disappeared somewhere in a hurry. plum - stained lips curled into a smirk ; an ambush, then.

they were surrounded in an instant, hostile figures emerging from the shadows of pillars & secluded alcoves all at once. “ fools, you say? i’d use the term pests, ” his response to minerva’s remark was for their opponents to hear, the slow drawl dripping with a pronounced boredom, “ it’s amusing that they think this will save them. ” his level voice carried through the hall despite the lack of pitch. macbeth caught minerva’s eye & smiled, an insidious little tilt of black lips, before he raised his hand. “ this could be fun. ” the two had never fought back to back before, but the reflector mage wasn’t worried. giving the sorceress a wide berth, & he focused on his own spell - casting. minerva had been correct to christen their opponents’ fools, even with numbers on their side, they struggled in vain to hold their own.

“ mmm . . . not bad. you’re not boring, after all. ” crimson gaze swept over the scene of carnage in the aftermath with a satisfied glint. blood & terror clung to the musky air, a sea of motionless bodies blanketing cold stone floors. plum - colored lips dipped into a small frown, a pensive expression contorting sharp features. “ you didn’t kill them, did you? ” there was no sympathy to be found in the way he spoke, only a hint of concern. jellal would lecture him to sleep. macbeth nudged the body nearest to them with the toe of their boot, eliciting an unconscious grunt. “ you should have run when you had the chance. foolish. ” 

#srpentress #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) . #let me know if i need to change something

[midmare]

@killrate ( mary ) said: “ oh, good, you caught onto my bitterness. ” 

heavy eyelids blinked at a leisurely pace, eyes the color of blood wandering upwards to consider the other ex - dark wizard with a thoughtful expression. sat against a gnarled tree trunk, legs & arms crossed, macbeth almost drifted back into the waiting darkness, his interest in the conversation too slight to keep the drowsiness at bay. he had made an innocuous remark, merely an observation on mary’s apparent lack of enthusiasm for redemption . . . “ do you regret it ? ” it was rare that macbeth poised a question from plum - stained lips, an invitation to drag conversation out & delay slumber’s embrace. “ regret . . . this. ” hand - picked words were purposefully vague, a tinge of fear lurking beneath his soft - spoken tone.

“ i do, ” he continued after a fraught pause, slowly, a confession in the dead of night, “ i don’t see the point.” hollow crimson eyes break away to stare at grassy soil, a frown on rounded lips. he mused, the hardest part of atonement wasn’t gaining forgiveness, but giving remorse. at least for macbeth ; maybe — it was just him, he was just that black of heart & cruel of mind. redemption was something he had to want, badly, but macbeth has never wanted anything so selfishly, with such wanton desperation. ( when it came to sleep, he only closed his eyes & prayed in vain for the night terrors to leave him. )

a yawn was wrenched from his throat, & he looked up to meet starry gold eyes again. “ mmmh . . . are you bitter about avatar, or are you bitter about crime sorciere ? ” he asked finally, half rhetorically, half curiosity, and with a glint of dark amusement. macbeth was under no delusion over which he fell under, the former or the latter. he wondered, ruthlessly, whether the same could be said for mary.

#killrate #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) .

[midmare]

@caelitus (jellal) said: “that didn't go quite like i thought it would.”

painted lips drawn into a thin line, words wedged in his throat, he let silence speak instead of laying bare countless grievances. a hidden, spiteful, injured part of him wanted to set free blame upon the person whom he had heaped with so much fault already, that it was a miracle the man didn’t wither under his bitter crimson gaze alone. it would be easy to add today’s setback to the litany of crimes and offenses macbeth liked to pin on jellal within the privacy of his thoughts, but, he swallowed his rancor and saved it for another day.

“no, it didn’t,” he admitted flatly, taking inventory of their injuries. frequently, macbeth emerged from altercations with dark guilds unscathed, protected by his magic more often than not. in this case, he had the misfortune of encountering a mage that preferred physical attacks, quickly exposing his gross weakness (he liked to tout he was untouchable, without flaw, but he knew better than anyone how fragile he was inside). they won, but macbeth felt the ache of his own shortcomings like an old injury ripped open again.

(it was his fault the plan fell apart). he tore his eyes away from the other, rubbing fresh bruises that bloomed like black flowers along planes of pale flesh. “i’m tired. i’m going to sleep.” losing still stung, stole his pride and confidence from his stature and left him desolate. he didn’t want to talk, but it was an excuse all the same. with the day’s shame left to rot and fester in his mind, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to drift into blissful unconsciousness for a while.

#caelitus #hello #hope this is ok for you #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) .

[midmare]

@steeltempered (gajeel) said: “there are many things i wish i could undo.”

a hint of ridicule, soft voice dripped in cutting cynicism, and scorn for the world as he knew it. “it’s unfortunate that we don’t have that luxury.” head lowered, hollow red eyes turned away from the other’s expression, as he blinked the encroaching sleep out of his gaze during the lull in conversation. he almost fell asleep, thinking about wishes and prayers, but in the end there is only a waking nightmare to be had instead of dreams. (he turned his nightmares into power, because no matter how hard he prayed they never went away.)

he stood up, as a way of keeping himself awake. a breathy exhale, and he returned the favor, instead of letting the conversation perish an untimely death. “besides, rather than wishing i could undo the things i did, i would wish that i had done things that i didn’t do.” he was too afraid, by nature, and so he shrouded himself in magic to protect a fragile soul from the outside. when father asked, instead of wishing to be braver, stronger, more infallible, he wished that the demons in the corners, the howls in his ears, would go away and never touch him.

his prayers went unheard. father lied to him; father wanted chaos and he wanted peace, and he only wished that he had been brave enough to want for himself. raising his hollow gaze again, he returned from inside his head, blinking slowly. he may have drifted off for a moment. “did you want something, in particular?”

#steeltempered #hi #thank you for the ask #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) .

[midmare]

@aetrnalis ( gray ) said: “ so you wanna go find something to break? ”

the sudden question roused macbeth from torpor, half - lidded eyes fluttered open, head lifted upwards & he turned to face the other, naked intrigue flickering through an unnerving crimson stare. “ oh? ” brow arched, violet - painted lips curling into a smile. “ depends on what you want to break, ” his smile widened further, languid curiosity sharpening into wanton mischief. “ or who. ” it was almost a dare, taunting the ice mage, testing his ostensibly frosty mood. macbeth had suspicion that gray harbored no fondness for their own wicked brand of leisure, far too good to find catharsis in misery, but perhaps they had underestimated the ice devil slayer. there was a measured tilt of their head, pale curls falling over narrow shoulders. blood - red eyes watched the other with piercing scrutiny, waiting for a tell - tale crack, the return of virtuous rationale, a falter in step.

standing up, macbeth brushed imaginary clumps of dirt off his pants, pivoted on the heel of his boot, & started to stride away. he stopped, still in earshot, tossing a patient glance over his shoulder. “ are you coming, or not? ” had gray asked a different person, there would have been more questions asked, concerns raised, a litany of reasons not to, but macbeth wasn’t that person. there was no precedent for him to be anyone’s moral conscience. if gray wanted an outlet, macbeth wouldn’t be the one to deny him. “ this mountain pass is swarming with bandit guilds. let’s stop waiting for trouble to find us, & bring trouble to them. ” arms stretched over his head, he popped his back leisurely. “ i’m sure nobody will care . . . much. ”

still — blood - red eyes observed the other from his periphery. macbeth wasn’t very familiar with gray fullbuster on a personal level, largely on purpose ; they weren’t interested in making ‘new friends’, especially not with someone who had directly contributed to the oración seis’ defeat on the back of nirvana seven years ago. having only lended half an ear to the other’s baptism, a lark as a dark guild member, volatile magic power, etc. macbeth’s lip curled in derision. the reflector mage had always thought lesser of the ice devil slayer, but they supposed — with morbid curiosity more than concern, they should wonder what had possessed gray to seek out macbeth, of all people. “ you seem upset, ” the dry remark belied an unspoken query. there was a measured pause, like a cracked window, tentatively, for the other to air out grievances. a heartbeat passed, then narrow shoulders lifted into a dismissive shrug. “ hmm, whatever. i don’t really care if you tell me either way. ”

#aetrnalis #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) .

[midmare]

@caelitus ( jellal ) said: “ you’re not getting rid of me that easily. ”

a delicate breeze stroked snow fur - lining, porcelain curls catching a gust of air as macbeth whirled around, pinning the object of his ire with a cautionary flash of blood - red. “ what do you want, jellal? ” sharp as a scythe, tart voice pitched over the whistling of the wind. heart - closed, almost like the locked cage, he remained distant from the blue - haired man, even now. their mutual surrender, begrudging as it was, to be less difficult, less uncompromising — it extended no further beyond that of a purely professional agreement. even the notion of camaraderie with jellal felt hazy & weightless, a faraway dream, a nightmare ; macbeth feared the day their enmity would be devoured in its entirety, eclipsed by the tiny flicker of companionship that had been lit in the silence that stretched between the two. there was something to be afraid of, in the light, in the places jellal promised to lead them to, when he had only ever known hatred & slept in the shadows.

turning around, little braid of pale hair swishing as they flicked it, their hand rested on their hip. he thought of all the times he’d snubbed jellal, not a wisp of subtlety, yet . . . macbeth didn’t know if it was testament to the man’s foolish tenacity, or another contrived way to punish himself. ‘aren’t you tired of trying, already?’ he wanted to sneer, ‘just leave me alone.’ jellal was a recurring vision, one that refused to leave, in both wakefulness & slumber. crimson eyes shuddered shut ; something cracked, a tiny fissure in the invisible shield around their heart. macbeth opened hollow eyes, meeting jellal’s stare unfalteringly. “ i was going to forage for supplies, while we’re here. ” a wave of his hand towards the thick of gnarled trees, splashed with green & mossy hues. dark red gaze flickered over to the camp, behind jellal’s head, before glancing sideways, narrow fingers twisting his braid in loops.

“ i ran out of eyeliner, the other day. it’s not a big deal, but . . . ” a cursory glance, gauging the other’s reaction. “ i can make more, but i need to find something that works as a substitute. ” macbeth tilted his head, expression carefully neutral. “ are you going to follow me, or do you have better things to do? ” it was not an invitation, nor was it a dismissal. the air thickened with bated breath, though macbeth felt perverse either way. there was a litany of misgivings he had about keeping jellal’s company, but, to the former dark mage’s dawning revulsion, he didn’t revel in the probability that jellal would leave either.

#caelitus #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) .

[midmare]

@caelitus ( jellal ) said: “ you could have just led with that. ”

full lips tilted upwards into a droll curve, not quite a smile that could be mistaken later for reality, but an imaginary mark of humor. “ no, that would have been too boring. ” gone was the lethal tension that clung to the air in the aftermath of an argument that froze instead of burned, dispelled & shattered like an illusion, as if it hadn’t existed at all. yet, it wasn’t that easy to lay past grievances to rest, not when macbeth had allowed everything to fester & rot for years until his grudge was noxious, pervading the soil from deep within the grave they tried to bury it in. still, the tombstone was a white flag, a figurative clean slate raised six feet above an ugly, grime - infested thing that they both agreed to put beneath them.

there was an irony to the reality that his sarcastic response held more truth between blunt - edge words than macbeth had intended. maybe, the grudge they buried in the ground needed to first be cut loose, freed from its self - imposed silence to haunt the waking world with its obsessions, before it finally laid down to sleep. macbeth was under no delusion that this would be the last they see of past specters, but he’d given his word that he wouldn’t drag it all to the surface just to indulge petty urges anymore. “ you deserved to have a hard time ; getting to watch that vein in your face pop every day was the least you could do to make it up to me. ”

that was a joke. he doesn’t think there’s anything jellal could do to recompense for the things he’s done. this wasn’t forgiveness after all, & neither did macbeth derive any amusement from jellal’s icy composure. in fact, it was irritating that their ‘fighting’ always involved more silence than screaming, trading chilly glares from across camp instead of blows. putting an end to their cold war lifted a weight off macbeth’s back, one that he hadn’t known of until it was absent ; it was a relief to let go of some of the quiet animosity he always harbored inside his mind.

#caelitus #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) .

[midmare]

@killrate (mary) said: “change isn’t easy.”

macbeth would never take counsel from anyone, save his father. to do so would be a defeat in itself, to accept someone else’s hand would be like admitting he needed it. he didn’t, he hated his flaws and he hated it even more when other people tried to address them. “what are you implying?” he returned, testily, almost by reflex. soulless red eyes bore into gold stars, meeting the other’s gaze in challenge, a dare. it’s irritating, that this person seemed to know where he was weak. arms crossed, black painted lips curling into a faint sneer.

he knew, because he heard people say it, that he was unnerving at best and terrifying at worst; a nightmare was his best look. the pink haired mage didn’t back off though, and he relented first, breaking eye contact, narrow shoulders slumping imperceptibly. “i don’t like it,” a vague, curt admission of the truth. change threw the world off its axis, even more crooked and unsteady each time. then, as soon as he got used to the constant teetering and deranged angle, the blanket was pulled out from underneath him again. he was captive to this, to never find rest, the stability he craved.

it was no secret that macbeth had little enthusiasm for redemption. the light was bothersome, and when the sun shone brightly it was harder to close his eyes and drift away. he won’t be what denied his friends’ their freedom however, he won’t keep them trapped with him in the middle of the moonless night. he’s laid bare more than enough of his soul though, he doesn’t dare to drop his shield around his friends, and mary had even less privilege to his naked psyche, “...go bother someone else.” he allowed his eyelids to droop, and it didn’t take much to succumb to blissful avoidance of the waking world.

#killrate #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) . #hello #thank you for the ask

[midmare]

new tags i.

☽ ＼ ( out of character ) .

☽ ＼ in character .

☽ ＼ ( memes || prompts ) .

☽ ＼ dash game .

☽ ＼ ( promotion ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ wicked and hellbent … ( study i :: headcanon ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ they call me an omen … ( study ii :: visage ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ madness calls to me at night … ( study iii :: musing ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ shadows on my wall don’t sleep … ( study iv :: aesthetic ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ save me your prayers … ( study v :: canon div ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ a villain in a black dress … ( study vi :: wardrobe ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ my nightmares sing me off to sleep … ( pt i :: oracion seis ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ i fight with you in my sleep … ( pt iii :: pardon || parole ) .

#☽ ＼ ( out of character ) . #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ( memes || prompts ) . #☽ ＼ dash game . #☽ ＼ ( promotion ) . #☽ ＼ ‘ wicked and hellbent … ( study i :: headcanon ) . #☽ ＼ ‘ they call me an omen … ( study ii :: visage ) . #☽ ＼ ‘ madness calls to me at night … ( study iii :: musing ) . #☽ ＼ ‘ shadows on my wall don’t sleep … ( study iv :: aesthetic ) . #☽ ＼ ‘ save me your prayers … ( study v :: canon div ) . #☽ ＼ ‘ a villain in a black dress … ( study vi :: wardrobe ) . #☽ ＼ ‘ my nightmares sing me off to sleep … ( pt i :: oracion seis ) . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) . #☽ ＼ ‘ i fight with you in my sleep … ( pt iii :: pardon || parole ) .

[midmare]

@seraphias (sorano) said: ❛ have i mentioned that i don't really like it here ? ❜ 

the sight of heavy iron shackles and worn cobblestone made his back crawl before anything else, followed by a foul stench that made his stomach turn, far too familiar for comfort. despair was pungent down here; he swallowed, a bitter taste in his mouth. the cellars of dark guilds hadn’t become any more palatable since the first basement (dungeon, his mind supplied) he had been to. if anything, it had become more unbearable ever since he agreed to hanging up the mantle of evil that he used to wear like a suit of armor. “bear with it.” terse, hushed placation was for himself as much as it was a curt, unsympathetic reply to sorano.

“we should split up,” he said, and made no attempt to separate himself from the only solace in the room, albeit bitchy, for lack of a better word, but in a chronic, reassuring way that he was fond of. “there could be something down here.” an unwelcome, but well acquainted, tinny voice inside his head amended, someone, the infrequent discovery of which was his least favorite part of fumigating dark guilds. sometimes, he wasn’t sure which he preferred: decomposing and unrecognizable (guilt free), or still breathing and utterly wretched.

macbeth unstuck his boots from the ground and started walking. “let’s get this over with quickly.” if they were fortunate, and selfishly so, the dark guild they had just finished with upstairs didn’t take prisoners. he frowned at himself, a little downturn of black painted lips (he wasn’t a nice guy). the reminder stung, but not as much as he sometimes wished it would.

#seraphias #hello #thank you for the ask #sorry this turned out darker than intended #ask to tag tw #☽ ＼ in character . #☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) .