jackknife-through-a-dove

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The Slaughter avatar stays pinned to her fiancé, hatchets anxiously at the ready. Her one good eye scanning furiously for danger, the other beginning to glow purple and fixing itself where the Archivist was Looking, moving independently of the other. She was vaguely disoriented by this, but even so, when she spotted the body of the conductor, she unaffixed herself from her guiding light long enough to bury a hatchet through his throat and well into his spinal column.

Stay dead.

The cavern is cold, filled with chunks of concrete and stone rubble, and most importantly, empty. Webbing still hangs from the walls and ceiling, and the empty husks of spider meals and egg sacks lay crushed on the ground, as thin as eggshells. Some are still recognizable as avatars. The solid black eyes of an avatar of the dark. The still squirming remains of a flesh hive, once used to feel freshly birthed spawn. A plastic mannequin of the stranger, stolen skin decaying. You don't recognize any of them.

The conductor lays still in the center of the room, the top of his head missing. His bottom row of teeth are visible over his exposed windpipe. His face is all warped black eyes and jointed furry legs.

Dante is gone. There is a slimy trail of wet rubble leading away into the darkness. It looks soaked in the kind of sludge that builds up in the gutters in February. Dirty, gritty filth mixed in with melting slush, the road gravel and salt that cities spread to melt ice. And, in it, just a hint of real human blood. The perfect icy cocktail to fill the veins of an avatar that feeds on the pressures of snow and suffering.

There's too much of it. It soaks the concrete and drowns the tiny spiders that failed to get away. There are many spiders in this place, but none of them are alive.

There are no clues to where he went, if he's still alive. You'll need to See the way.

@entities-of-posts

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[Amara grunted as the Vastard tackled her yet again. Never could just lock elbows with this guy--and then the breakneck speeds of Freefall were keeping her from getting another breath in. Didn't even have time to tie her hair up, her long curls whipping up into her eyes. Terrible experience all around, this time. She landed hard, but at her beloved's words, was back on all fours, heaving as she gasped for air.]

Point me in the right direction.

I didn't really think this one through, but then, when do I ever?

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You're telling me when someone says they love me I will just have to trust them they mean it? And when they show me they love me I will have to let my heart open in vulnerability and receive it?? And I cannot control whether their love will change or end but all I can do is remain exposed and open with transformative tenderness from present moment to present moment??? What the fuck????????????????????

girl i know like

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[A snarl. The Web really did not fucking know when to quit.]

Yeah, I remember Dante. Met him in passing when the Titans were feuding in the basement.

Yeah. Lemme get my shoes. I'm coming along.

Hello, Archivist.

Are you good?

Better than Dante!

*there is a note of mania in the Archivist’s voice, but it reins it in. Not the time to freak out. Time to plan.*

I’m going to Italy. And quick. Spiral or Vast travel, the moment I have a team assembled. I’m still trying to See more details - he collapsed the cave, but I don’t know if it killed the Spider, don’t know if he’s alright, don’t.

Lost too much time already.

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[Slow, quiet notes, played on a small electric keyboard. Backed by white noise, cancelling the background ambience. Chilly temperatures drifting in from the open window. A lo-fi drum beat keeping tempo, a lazy melancholic rhythm. But the knock pulls her back to her senses, and the large woman ambles to her feet. Arthritic knees and ankles pop and protest, and the drum machine keeps playing as she answers the door. The brain fog and slow mood halt like a car crash when she sees her love's expression.]

What's wrong.

Hello, Archivist.

Are you good?

Better than Dante!

*there is a note of mania in the Archivist’s voice, but it reins it in. Not the time to freak out. Time to plan.*

I’m going to Italy. And quick. Spiral or Vast travel, the moment I have a team assembled. I’m still trying to See more details - he collapsed the cave, but I don’t know if it killed the Spider, don’t know if he’s alright, don’t.

Lost too much time already.

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babygirl you’ve never met someone as isolated as me before

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I think I will rip a few things apart with my teeth and then feel better

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it’s so true that the greatest weapon against nihilism and existential despair is to find joy in the mundane and never stop chasing after love

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God I wish I could go back in time and be the person who cut peoples heads off with an axe

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There she goes: my evil wife, who is beautiful (and evil) ready to commit more actions. (Evil)

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Yasmine Wüster

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im full of love but im full of rage but im full of love

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"I can hear you."

[Her words are calm. In the way that the first rumbles of an avalanche are calm--just sheets of snow, sliding free.]

"I can see you, too."

[But her face isn't calm. The wicked smile parting her face, the look in her eyes that sets her apart instinctively as something Dangerous. It's the look she gets when she's butchering. When she's wrist deep in someone's viscera. The utter disregard for the life of her Food, and the thrill of taking it. The savoring of the suffering. Morality cast aside. The embracing of monstrosity.]

[It's hard for her to stand still. To wait is to fight every instinct she's accumulated over 60 years as an avatar. This is the part of the meal where you act. Where you take your prize. To just stand there, letting him drown in his own fear…it was foreign to her. But this is Brutus's meal first and foremost, and she would follow his lead.]

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[A message pops up on her phone screen.]

Found a guy to feed on. 

Be at the Archives in an hour + bring snowproof shoes. I’ll get you jacket and goggles.

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[The screaming wind tears at her exposed skin, whips her hair almost straight back. Even with Brutus at her side, she can feel it. She's standing at the maw of something Hungry. Tempting it, teasing it with a meal, and the only thing saving her life is its willingness to listen when Brutus tells it "no."]

[She watches their prey struggle, watches him fight his situation until he just begins crying for help, voice cracking in emotional desperation.]

[It Soothes. God, it fucking Soothes. Like scratching an itch she didn't know she had. Like the instantaneous relief of pulling off a pair of boots that have been rubbing blisters onto your feet. For decades. Like sinking a fresh burn into ice water. But no mundane simile captures the fucking relief of finally Feeding something that has taken to feasting on you to sate its pangs.]

[It's. Well.]

[She can't lie to herself. The relief outshines the horror of what this means for her.]

@jackknife-through-a-dove

[A message pops up on her phone screen.]

Found a guy to feed on. 

Be at the Archives in an hour + bring snowproof shoes. I’ll get you jacket and goggles.

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[There's almost no need to walk. It feels like the cloud pulls her in, like it swallows her whole. And then she's in the Endless White. Utterly Alone in this expanse, where there is nothing but snow and the howling wind, she's not even certain she's still standing on anything or if she's tumbling in the air like in Freefall. And then the Titan grips her, and she's neither Alone nor being consumed by the Endless any more.]

[She knew she was safe, she trusted Brutus about as thoroughly as she could trust anyone that wasn't herself or her partner, but even so, it would be a lie to say that the experience hadn't shaken her, at least a little. She formed a loop out of the rope and slipped her arm through, knotting it around her upper arm.]

Good Lord. Terrifying, Brutus, I felt like I was being eaten by--. I was gonna say 'something so much bigger,' but that sounds stupidly obvious now.

[She follows their pointing for all the good it does, there's no visual cue whatsoever where their shared meal is, but. She's got his scent now, and she can tell he's close.]

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[A message pops up on her phone screen.]

Found a guy to feed on. 

Be at the Archives in an hour + bring snowproof shoes. I’ll get you jacket and goggles.

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Yeah! The helplessness, exactly, like. Knowing that you're all alone in this horrifying situation. That you don't have anyone...

[Brutus pointed out the marked prey. And Amara realized that she hadn't really needed them to. She could...smell it. Not quite as strongly as the terror of bloodshed and pain that she was so familiar with, that marked her own Food, but like...stepping into an elevator and realizing that someone in there was wearing the same perfume as you. Vaguely, she felt alarmed. Vaguely, she felt relieved. Answers were answers were answers.]

[She watched, gaze flicking between Brutus and the slopes. Something about Brutus was chilling, more than the winter wind. Like watching an alligator, calm and docile as its prey drifts ever closer, until the moment of Taking them. She watched the man be swallowed by the Endless White. It felt. Well. It sure did feel. And Brutus themself felt intensely dangerous in that instant. She rose to join him.]

Hey Brutus? I. Smelled his Fear.

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[A message pops up on her phone screen.]

Found a guy to feed on. 

Be at the Archives in an hour + bring snowproof shoes. I’ll get you jacket and goggles.