SING 4 ME

@cutthruu

Five asks (i forget the number i don't follow meme rules at this point lmao)

"dušo moja," Arctic and blackened lips pressed agasint the others warmer ones. The urge to bite and draw blood, carnal nature of her kind, was tempting, but a restraint of her usual nature was present. 'Sickened Heart' was probably the best descriptor of him, especially for one insane enough to catch and retain a Bruxsa's attention.

Not that she minded; despite her initial annoyance of the other, whether the persistance was what won the embodiment of death over or that she was also insane (which is likely; who else shuts people inside morgue cabinets to suffocate them?), is unknown.

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Chalk white legs swathed in funeral shrouds for a dress parted slightly as he dragged her, wrapping around his waist. Leather clad digits reached up, gently caressing the other's face. Though her features remained impassive, clouded orbs belied her excitement at the other's presence. Bloodied and blackened lips quirked upwards.

Dare she say even adoration was present in her movements, a feeling as foreign to her as remorse. Yet, perhaps it was because the other could equally match her nature, that she allowed him.

"Funny, I was thinking the same." Slavic tongue, tone as harsh as ever from the chemicals in her morgue, though if pulling the other closer by his jacket lapels were any indicator, her words were genuine.

@sourentropy  @cutthruu  

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It seemed she no longer was astounded at the other’s behavior, resigning herself to accepting his strange presence at this point. Arctic fingers threaded through the other’s brightly coloured locks, a slight chuckle warbling from pallid throat. 

-

‘Are you that degenerate enough to turn to something like me..’

The feel of warm lips, pressed agaisnt lifeless alabaster ones, was enough to somewhat fluster the death embodiment, a slight disconnect from the mindand reality hindered possible violent reactions on her part. The sensation left her non-plussed; did the other not understand the travesty? She knew the other was insane (from constantly hoisting her up, having caught on to her evident bewilderment whenever that occurs, to even giving her an offending slap on her rear previously), but this? Was he an imbecil, or just embolded by his own insanity? 

The indignation of such deed was enough to give her some clarity,  not enough to claw at his neck, to tear at the vocal chords, to render a fool silent once and for all.  He’d be an exquisite sight himself, choking on his own ichor. Such a thought had crossed her mind more than once, even with the aftermath to consider. This cat and mouse game was, at best; mildly amusing, but it seemed clear the other psychopath had proven time and again with his own eccentricity that he had some brass ones. Well, not that she’d know.

‘Two can play this game.’

The white-hot lividness of a lunatic stealing this part of her, boldened her movements. One alabaster hand reached up, carressing the other’s face, as if feigning tenderness.  Pallid maw parted, arctic tongue running over warm lips, hingrily reciprocating, before viciously biting, enough to draw blood. The metallic taste of ichor assaulting her senses was enough to cause her to pull away; still forever wondering on earth some creatures enjoyed the taste of such liquid. A lovely enough colour, but such repulsive taste.

Crimson still dribbling over her lips and a river down her smile, she did not, surprisingly heave and spit it out on the ground in disgust at first, but rather ingest.

“Satisfied?” A curviature of lips in a feral, knife like grin, glancing as obscenely as possible back at him.

-

“Wha-KOJI KURAC! (WHAT THE FUCK?!)” she yelped indignantly as she found herself tossed over the other’s shoulder like a sack. To add insult to humiliation, the resounding slap to her rear end silenced any further acidic remarks in her native tongue, but allowed her to fester in smouldering anger.  It was luck on her part he was not able to see her face currently; despite the deathly paleness of her flesh, a slight, pink tinge creeped up, much to her dismay. If any outsiders were witness to this, she would make it her personal life long mission to make them extinct.  Yes, she did have quite a good ass, among other…things, though sane people usually agreed it was suicidal to even conceive of, let alone actually carrying out such actions.

Well, except for this one who Borna is convinced has no shred of sanity in him…nor a fear of death. In fact, she even wondered if it was worth restraining him with her whip in retaliation, before deciding there was the possibility of the other making the entire scenario weird. Suffice to say; one psychopath versus another was not something she was used to, and she was not sure what to think of it, nor did she particularly find it usual to go up agaisnt another domminant figure.

She was the one used to that, not handing it over to another.

“Fucking put me down you lunatic!” She began to wriggle, hoping to irritate the other long enough, though it may be wishful thinking on her part. If the other wanted a fight, a fight he’d get for this.

-

She had to give him credit where it was due; the maniac was far more dauntless than she initially had thought. One so brazen enough to lay their hands ‘pon her corporeal form such as he had a preordained demise, yet, the other must have clearly caught onto the fact she wouldn’t outright murder him….yet. Suffice to say, being lifted from the ground and swayed like a doll did not sit well with her, and a sinking feeling (perhaps flutters? though she’d vehemently deny such) pooled in her stomach of the other resting his chin on her shoulder. The other towering over her did not help either; she had what others may jokingly refer as a complex of her hieght; she saw a tall person, the fists were raised in retaliation.

Such sensations should not be felt in a body long dead as she, and yet…

A part of her, the one that seethed with revulsion of him, beeseched she strike him; to wrap the hands of death about his throat and force the last bits of life from him, consequences afterward be dammend. Another, a bizzare portion that she fiercely kept under lock, reached out in hesitant reciprocation. It went agaisnt everything the death embodiment stood for, including her own bet, bloodless hands encircled the others neck, loosly, as if to elude  an accidental murder, resting tired head on his shoulder.

A bergrudging embrace from death herself.

▼ kissing them

♢ stabbing them

♞ shooting them

✖ punching them

➶ slapping them

☠ poisoning them

☎ hugging them

☂ picking them up

✗ bringing them alcohol

✣ bringing them food

☯ coming home late

Subject name: mc fucking shithead…no wait  Cue Borna squinting at the name Ji-woon

Cons:

~Holy fucking Veles what the hell is this ~Get him away from me ~I’d rather have Elliot around then whatever the fuck this is ~No please i’m serious this fool scares me and i didn’t think that was possible ~fucking yee yee ass haircut ~if you go near me one more time I will shove your knives up your ass ~WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME ~it’s not freestyle acupuncture you fucking imbecile, it’s get the fuck away from me holy shit ~*unholy screaming in ancient croatian*

Pros: