“ i know you’re dangerous, but i also know you won’t hurt me. you bark, and you growl, but you never bite. not me, at least. ”
My Brand.
@fallesto
"Others always assume that because of what I am, personality and purpose both, that I harbor favor for the bold and audacious. To a degree, they are correct. There's nothing like initiative to get me excited." The witch half turned towards her husband. If he wished to speak such things, she'd humor him with a sour joke. "They think if they are these things, I'll favor them."
"They're wrong." It was a simple truth and one he needed to be reminded of as she turned to face him, her expression lacking the usual mirth that was so often present. "Audacious and bold individuals aren't always successful. More often than not they are just making fools of themselves by speaking what they think is correct."
Mortem closed the distance between them quickly, her palm meeting his chest abruptly - covering over his heart for a gentle moment before her fingers curled into the front of his coat. "Husband. We've hurt one another aplenty. You fly off the handle, I get furious and defend myself. Other times I feel poorly and become irritable by your ignorance - justifiable or not. We are the only individuals capable of enduring one another. Sometimes it's hurtful, sometimes it's fun to blow off some steam."
"But the hurt is a natural part of any organism. Sentient beings have the ability to process it. I don't think ill of the hurt you've caused me, nor do I think it of any I've caused you. We grow and become stronger with it. But I'll concede, you are correct - I will not seek to ruin you. I have no desire to, at least not in this manner. You're mine."
Was it not evident in the way she did not throw idle threats? Words of warning arose when he began needling at her, irritating her when his own mood was foul and he directed it her way. When he misunderstood and acted impulsively.
He knew well if he damaged her enough it wasn't him that would pay the price, but the souls he kept imprisoned here that she'd use as fuel to reforge her body swiftly.
Regulus was moody, temperamental - if he misjudged a situation, a sentence, chances were high he'd act out. But she was not like him. When he barked and growled, he would bite. Hard. She was a quieter thing by comparison, for she saw personal no value in threats or outbursts unless pushed to a point. Reactionary. Words of warning, a heated suggestion when annoyance began to simmer within.
He was right - to a point. But he was an idiot to think she couldn't. Her desire not to was strong-- she wanted to keep him safe, not be a thing that did more harm.
She didn't want to be that again, not with him.
The witch was not known to be a kind thing but with him and for him, she was. Regulus had earned her sweetness, even if at times he also earned her ire. The two were bound to have miscommunications, to falter - but they proved they came back stronger every time.
"You're my husband. You're the only one I'll stay my hand for. Chart the map within my heart and see it for yourself." Her hand slid off his chest with a frown, "You may be right on this matter, but don't be a fool and overlook the value that can be found in the hurt that we sometimes cause one another. It is evidence of our love and acceptance."
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[ FEED ] for the receiver to put a snack into the senders mouth while their hands are busy!
Actions.
@fallesto
One could say it was almost one thing after another, but even so there was consistency in the way they got through it. Protected one another. There was no cult, the seemingly endless manor was empty beyond the two of them. For the time being she fortified their personal wing upstairs with magic and spells this world had yet to even see. The alchemy room he had surprised her with had the amenities to be used as a kitchen, and so she did. Keeping all that they need here on this one level. A strategic point, should anyone get wise to the fact he was alive.
The dragon that had once been sighted now was missing along with the witch, and with good reason. The very soul that inhabited such a beast laid upon the bed, back in his body. As he fended off their position she had ventured down into the ruined district of the city, deep beneath it to find his corpse.
Atop his head she held his form, unable to deny the short cry of relief to have him in her arms in any capacity. The entire journey home she held him. The stench of his body or its state mattered not, it couldn't breach the love and relief she felt to have found him once more.
She bathed him of the filth, tidied up the damage his body endured. He looked... almost like himself again by the time she was done. Preserving his corpse with an enchantment, she spent the next few days forging the spell needed. Only taking breaks to check on her husband, too large to enter their home. To step out onto the balcony and hold as much of him as she could, speak and energize herself with his presence. Motivation to keep going, to ignore her own exhaustion from conquering a capital city to making one of the most taxing spells known to all.
One wouldn't really know it looking at the witch just how much it took out of her. Regulus, perhaps, for he has seen her defy what exhaustion usually did to her. Passing out after such a thing wasn't uncommon-- up to three days, even. Yet even as she crafted the spell, set it up, casted it she refused to rest. His eyes opening, seeing color return to his face reinforced why she needed to stave off her own needs.
Despite her body being small than his, she carried him with the strength that has slain countless foes. Off the floor where the ritual spell took place and straight to bed. Somewhere comfortable to rest, and rest he did. But not she. The witch couldn't risk passing out and being unable to awaken when he did. Any of her people would need to do such a thing, to sleep and recover energy lost but the most she'd allow herself to do was meditate - build up slowly to keep herself awake.
When he was finally opening his eyes again she shifted the pillows behind him, to ensure he was comfortable sitting up. This body... it experienced much. He'd need a little time to recover, to gain his bearings once more.
She fetched him water, she fetched him softer food. The nourishment was much needed. This body had been dead and she repaired it, migrated his soul back into it but it didn't change the fact there was some catching up to be done to spark life fully back into it. That came with rest, healing physically and mentally, with nourishing his form back into greatness.
Setting the water aside she picked up a bowl of stew she had let cook earlier. Easy, soft, she could add plenty of things his body needed to it. Scooting closer to her husband she blew gently, making sure it was at a comfortable temperature before offering him a bite.
"I know it's frustrating, m'love. Just give yourself a few days. Rest today, we can try getting you up tomorrow at the earliest." Though she'd make sure to bend his limbs and make sure they were responding well throughout today, soothing muscles that no doubt were aching still. "Just let me know how you're feeling. Weakness is to be expected first."
Weakness after he knew such strength, both in this body and as a dragon. This must be... so unpleasant for him. Considerate she'd be, of course, for she understood well what it was like to know such helplessness. But he had done so amazingly - even in their failing, he persevered so brilliantly. It made her proud. And though this was unpleasant she knew he'd do the same now.
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He wasn't very good at this whole... bargaining-- asking for help? Whatever he was here to do. While she had a clearer of picture of his intentions, the vampire wasn't exactly stating what he wished of her in this. The entire point of asking for aid in this manner or manipulating another to give it was to get it, no? Typically that meant making them want to invest or manipulating them to think that.
Yet the more he spoke the less she understood just why he stood before her on such a nice night, when she had been lounging by the campfire and basking in her solitude.
So he had a deal with a devil? His first mistake, really. They overcharged. It was a shame he hadn't the sense to seek her further for a more promising deal. But if she considered it, she understood why the devil's price was so steep - at least in her own way. To change himself like that would be costly, it affected him right down to his very soul. She likely would have had to ask for sacrifices as well, not as steep as what was being asked of him currently but enough to feed into a spell. Devils and their desire of souls differed from her kind, after-all.
"Thousands is a great number to collect. I imagine the sacrifice is all at once and not something that can be given overtime?" Which meant he was running against the clock dealing with mortal species. Her eyes squinted. Vampires rarely cared deeply for their own spawn when they were his level of power hungry - so surely... that meant he intended to sacrifice his own?
Oh. A wise play. Turn others and imprison them until the time of sacrifice. A clever plan.
"It sounds like you know and have prepared already much of what you need to do. However, you have yet to really say what that has to do with me." Mortem quirked a brow, willing to humor this a bit longer should he keep beating around the bush. The stranger made her aware of this large scale event, which meant she'd be keeping an eye on it even at a distance. However, whether he'd win her interest in helping would depend on if he could get to the point fast enough.
Pretty words could only get him so far. "So what is it you believe I can do for you, lovely?"
His needs and wants, outweighs all others within the land, it was what he wanted more than anything else, he was looking for a way to become more than what he was, why did this have to be as far as he can go, who ever said that it had to end with what he had become, he was looking for so much more and there are ways to make such a thing happen.
You only had to want it badly enough to be able to gain it and how he waned it more than anything within the entire world.
If she refused, it would matter little to him anyway, the work has started, the souls where being gathered, but this was a process, that could not be rushed, he needed to be careful with all things, the same as it was when he had risen to power, he needed to ensure that none would ever suspect him of such a thing, that there are no eyes upon him at all, and that he would have to ensure, those he takes, all traces of them would be raised, it would be within the endless hundreds he needed, and such it would turn into thousands in time, but small steps first and always, small steps going forward to try and gain a footing within this and to see, if he can gather. A thousand souls first.
Before he moves onto a great number than that for his offering.
“I have entered into an infernal contract with a powerful devil within hell.”
She didn’t need to know the name, Mephistopheles – he was many things, but he was above all, a strong, powerful and dangerous devil, his contracts deal within rot, decay, all of them foul and all of them meant to be so impossible, none would dare try, but he was going to defy the impossible once again, what the devil has asked for, none where meant to be able to give to him, until now that was, as he fully intended to complete the contract with the devil and offer him everything he had asked for.
“Thousands, he has asked for the souls of thousands, this can be done, but there are risks.” Humans did not live long enough for what he intended, nor did many other races, spawns then, he needed to make them all into spawns, to ensure they lived long enough for this to be accomplished, but even then, a handful of spawn, he could control, a hundred, he was sure he could control them, but thousands, he needed something to ensure they did not overrun him, something to keep them in line.
“I have my chosen, that will aid me, the others, my other spawn, are spawn in name only, they will be chained, sealed and locked away, but there numbers will increase into the endless thousands, I need to ensure they do not rebel and stage an uprising against me.”
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I'm always amused whenever someone starts clicking with Mortem and it leaning into being physical or romantic. Those early stages of her just peering over to them, wondering if this is the appropriate time to touch. Or maybe that next moment is better?
When it comes to the whole concept of a love language, touch is definitely hers. Mainly because touch and nonverbal communications are a witch's native tongue for speaking. Most of her people only speak when it's necessary, often communicating through touch or energy impressions.
So touch to Mortem isn't just touching. It's a language, it's communication beyond how mortals utilize it. She can read someone much more clearly via touching them and also express herself more honestly that way.
Which makes it hilarious since she gets a little ??? when developing something beyond a fling with another.
Post a fight with some enemies. Her just leaning forward to peer at the other, wondering if it would be appropriate to touch them in this moment - an example.
She knows humans (and the other races on her world) well, but it's still a cultural difference as much as it is about individualistic preference. Even among her people, while touch is half of their nonverbal language, there are plenty of witches who don't want to often be touched and just rely on the other half of it outside of the times they choose to engage.
Provided, this is going at the angle of something being a slower build and not inherently starting out as a fling. Though some of it still applies because when the context begins to change, she has to relearn how to approach with a different meaning behind her touches. Reevaluate the situation and dynamic.
Especially because touch in her culture means different things than in human culture. To hold someone's neck can be a threat to outsiders, among witches it can be a sign of great trust or affection-- and then turn into something sexual if it's that kind of affection. As much as it can equally be a threat to others. But witches are rare to have to go against one another so that's more for nonwitches to get the brunt of.
I'm just amused that she has all this experience and knowledge but due to her exile and isolation she now hesitates at relationships that develop beyond a shallow dynamic. So the ??? appears and suddenly the things she knows well are things she's questioning out of a desire to preserve something she has been without for so long.
And I don't even mean just a relationship of some kind. It goes beyond that to being able to have a fraction of communicating with another in her native tongue - to hear and be heard, even if it may not be to the same extent as if she did it with her own people.
The language of her people is touch and energy/intent readings, her love language is touch largely because of it - but she is stuck alone in silence as time passes. And when she meets others she opens her mouth and speaks in their tongue but in return is very often muted because most cannot do the same - or won't.
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Mortem seeing a 'no skinny dipping' sign. Suddenly she can't read.
Proceeds to chuck said sign into the body of water.
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❛ they die for love, you kill for it. ❜
darker vibes.
@maligdraconia
Oh? This one could see her, couldn't she?
The witch mused to herself a moment as she looked upon her hands, clean and pale but only just the other day they were reddened. The other wasn't wrong to say it.
"The universe is an indifferent place. It doesn't feel positively or negatively about the life it harbors within itself. From that absence, organisms with enough sentience birthed a thing called love - and hate. Two sides of the same coin. People often believe hate to be the villain when it is just the counterpart to love - another form given shape. Indifference..." Was the enemy.
Her hands lowered away as her fingers curled inwardly and then stretched leisurely, flexing away the reminder of the blood she spilled time and time again. It wasn't worth remembering in this life. "I love life. I love death. I hate both, at times. You're partially right, I kill for love - in a way."
"I'll die because of it, no doubt, eventually. The fools who die for it long before me will never truly comprehend how lucky they are for such an opportunity. To embrace entropy and decay within an indifferent universe-- but to know love that they die without ever knowing the cosmos didn't care is both a blessing and a curse. The lack of awareness... yet, it was because of life-- of the denizens of the universe, that they knew of such a thing upon death's door."
A thing the witch would likely never know nor could fathom the thought of knowing anymore.
"What are we if not a manifestation of our own creation?" It made sense then, didn't it? For her hands to know blood because of love.
Like his did. It was only right she carry such a heavy torch.
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also let it be known, the more violent, dark and sexual things i primarily write on discord. i don't harbor much trust in tumblr to not get weird on me. on certain occasions i'll make an exception with tags and what not.
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"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
@metaladam
"Oh yeah~!" Proceeds to make this sound as contribution.
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When cuddling beside or on top of one another transitions into hushed murmurs and impassioned breaths. ♡✧( ु•⌄• )
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Her gaze flickered lower to where he laid so comfortably. Warm. Her eyes met his, shamelessly admiring how pleasantly he (always) appeared. "Ugh." It was the only warning he had before she crawled over the back of the sofa like some sort of creature, down upon the waiting Hunter who ought to have known what was to come.
Flattening herself atop him only after settling, Mortem propped her chin on his chest. "Ugh~"
Continued from [ X ]
@cursedfortune
The Witch's face surfacing over the back of the sofa, shiny-eyed, like a stalking feline from above foliage was hardly a novel occurence. The Wind, who was currently occupying said sofa, looked up, and so once again did their gazes become fondly glued together, in complete silence, as they so often tended to be.
Until she ughed, that is. The Hunter remained unshaken.
There was small nod of sagely understanding.
"Mhm. Ugh." He made sure to affirm.
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update to my last ooc post from last week or whenever regarding my current activity status.
everything there is still applies. recovery isn't going as expected for one reason or another so my status of being inconsistent as fuck is still present both ic and ooc.
(and why i'm heavily leaning on my main/comfort muse when i do write - because writing has always been that escape i can autopilot into for a minute asdfghjkl)
i've gotten knew moots across the blogs so i wanted to just keep everyone up to date.
hope everyone is doing well and staying safe <3
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(Watch it or I'm bringing back Mortem? UGH. as well)
@lady-quen // @kazeofthemagun
This is a direct challenge and, as one may say, a violation.
"Ugh." The witch pointedly stated while peering over the sofa to look into the Hunter's direction.
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The truest form of knowing another soul came from enduring hardship; to be crushed and witness the other experiencing the same until diamonds were forged. Regulus and Mortem knew of intimacy in the kinder was, in the ways one would expect from two souls that loved one another. They knew intimacy in the harshness when aggression arose and led to a physical confrontation of power.
But Mortem knew well this intimacy that came with having another soul be in tune with you in battle. Unfortunately, she hadn't ever experienced being on the receiving end of such a thing - but she had always worked well with the forces she served along side in during the wars that waged on her world.
It mattered little her husband took this shape for the moment, she knew his heart and soul better than any. As he landed and scattered the mortals into the streets, she prepped the area and the souls within. It didn't matter that they were too weak to truly defend themselves against this pair, she wanted them to suffer. To feel helpless.
Their lives could have ended so easily, a mercy. But after the transgressions that befell the cult and her husband - she was not so inclined to let go the bystanders that celebrated their failing.
Her hand grabbed hold of his horn as he smashed through a building, her footing light as she twirled around as if they were performing one of their late night dances. Looking behind him she could see the wake of destruction he left behind, carving through the town with brute force. She wondered if he was enjoying himself-- his heart didn't feel particularly displeased which only elated her.
This was what she tried to showed him back then, when they were learning each others abilities on some enemy soldiers.
She let go and dipped her hand into the bag of holding attached nearly always to her waist - a thing that yielded to her command and no one else's. From something no bigger than her fist she pulled forth an angry piece of metal; blackened in its color with properties from a very specific place back home, crude and jagged at its point like that of obsidian. If only this metal was so kind.
The spear rotated in her hand with familiarity as she shifted atop his head, her left hand forming an L as she measured the distance a moment before the spear was let loose - sent hurtling through the armored chest of a man trying to load one of the rooftop ballista.
Her gaze trailed across the buildings as she raised her hand back--
Recall.
The weapon materialized back into her grip as she let loose again into another soldier before summoning back the cursed weapon into her grasped. It pulsed something nefarious, its energy rolling and reaching out to spread its wealth-- its death. This spear was tame compared to cursed weapons she knew; the soul that abused its metal foolishly had maddened it long ago, becoming a shell of what it once was and could do. But she didn't need much from it beyond its recall ability and in return, she soothed its ancient madness.
The witch admired for a long moment at her husband's fury, his revenge as he caused such lovely destruction. Her gaze lifted then, narrowing as she slid across his head as he moved - her entire body in sync to he who was currently the ground beneath her feet.
This was a form of intimacy she desired; to dance together, regardless of the violence they were causing. Her heart was calm, pleasant, full of love to empower him. Her blessing was a protection he didn't truly need at this time but she cared too much to not give it.
Their connected hearts she used to guide his attention the moment she noticed the main force of this town was rushing the way.
Words were not needed as she targeted the ballistae, able to reach the offensive heavy weaponry faster so that he could focus upon the mortals that believed close quarter combat was wise.
This was the unknown and it was more than what he was used to dealing with now within his life, even with all the powers within the entire world, nothing ever was for certain, nothing ever was a sure thing, nothing ever was going to go the way that you wished for it to go and he had learned that himself, through his travels throughout the entire land, to see it all, do it all, go anywhere, everywhere at all and nothing would be able to stop him, he had seen this world a thousand times over, her world as how she has talked to him about it, sounded the same, and it sounded as if it was just sitting right there, waiting to be taken.
If she asked, he could show her, there was a means and a ways for one to break through the thin layer between worlds and access it, happened once before, a long time ago, he knew how to do it again, how did she think, new heroes came into this world to try and fill the numbers back up – it was not random, it was not by chance, the cult controlled everything, people just had no idea just how deep there claws had sunk into the world and changed history to their tastes.
And now – simply put, they where the cult, all that was left of it.
This had to be what she had been trying to tell him before, of what it was like upon her world, for herself, the game of power, of thrones, of endless fighting back and forth and for witches to always be caught up within the middle of it all, too powerful to be brought into court, and yet too powerful to be left on the side and ignored, there was no middle ground, witches where always, hunted down and murdered for being what they were, but this time, this time it would not befall her.
It seemed she had more of a sense to run things than he did, he opened his doors, to the worst of the worst, murderers, scum, filth, but as well as those who merely had the scent and had went through hell because of it, a follower was a follower, numbers where numbers, but that had been culled, everything had changed within the royal city, the entire order had gathered and all of them had been killed, those that lived, fled with the sin of lust to the mountains, he doubted they would be seen anytime soon, to lick wounds, recover and grow again no doubt, but to come back for revenge, was not on their minds.
Revenge for now, very much was on their minds.
He saw the village, the people and it was not too long ago, he would have walked through such a place, with her at his side, hand in hand and he would have shown her the market place, how currency worked, what was valuable and what was not, show her the food as well. Everything that she wished to see, she would see and most of times places like this, to him at least held no worth and value he would not do anything other than leave them be, this was new, different, but interesting as he landed, and would begin to move through the village, feeling a sense of his partners power, how the heart would flutter in her chest to see the curse of poor luck upon those stationed here, to finally after all this time.
There wishes and wants, for something of interest to happen.
To finally see some action.
Had been granted in the worst possible way for them.
As he focused on the buildings, to flush out people, knights, or normal people it did not matter, they all celebrated the downfall so they all share the same fate, no more flames where needed, it was merely now about moving through the town and crushing anything that was there, turning around to knock them over and remained upright to ensure she could look down at them all, judge them, see them and witness there deaths.
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"Ugh, ugh. Ugh? Ugh~!"
"Ugh~! Uggggggggggggggggh!"
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"Ugh~! Ugh!"
"UGH! UGH!"
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