BLEED FOR ME, BABY.

By 黒豆.

blows the dust off this blog whew! it’s been a while but mede is back to totally ruin your day! like this for a starter, maybe?

also known as andromede’s true form – the one she possessed from the time she was exiled to this dimension to the time in which she was cursed – is vastly different from her current form. her true appearance (and that of most of her species) stands at roughly eight feet tall – which is considered to be somewhat short in her dimension (both her brothers stand at nine feet while her father is somewhere around twelve) – with four arms, two shorter and two longer (the longest leaving the hands somewhere around the knees, generally), and cherry red skin (this varies from person to person, and ranges all colors of the visible spectrum ). her hair is a blinding white and is extremely long – it grows at an abnormal rate in regards to other members of her species. all power is kept in the eyes while in this form – they glow a rose gold color and contain no irises, but occasionally small white pupils can be seen. above her head floats three rose gold halos, each intertwining with the other endlessly.

“Who did it?” She doesn’t care what was done. All she cares about is who she has to strangle for it. “What should I do?”

                       “ aiden! can you believe it?! somebody got blood all over my new bag! “ look at her, all teary eyed -- andromede, the goddess of pseudo-emotion. “ we have to get to the bottom of this!! “

Terumi extended his hand.   Each long finger was stretched out expectantly.  “Yuuki Terumi.”

                           “ yuuki terumi, “ she repeated the words, stressing syllables, “ i will do my best to keep our arrangement in good faith -- though the sentiment does go both ways, mind you. ” she releases long fingers, her own retreating to silver gold locks, “ here they call me andromede. feel free to use any variation that suits you. “

“–Ah,” you mouthed. “Excuse me, miss.” You took another breath. “I n-need to pass by, please.”

                            she turns her head, rigid -- triumphant -- and casts a sterile gaze upwards. it isn’t his fault, she thinks, and yet her demeanor suggests otherwise, “ i will allow you to pass -- but you’re not to speak a word of this. “ it is a ritual he impedes upon, her followers in worship. blood sacrifice, veins swelling under the low autumn sun. “ are we in agreement? “

i’m flying to florida for five days next week to get totally spooked at horror nights (and spend a massive amount of money on shit i don’t really need!) so i won’t be very active here! mutuals feel free to ask for my skype!