Crossroad Dealings

ɪ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴄʜᴜʀᴄʜ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ʀᴀɢɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴀ ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ɴᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

an indie, fandomless urban fantasy/horror-themed rp blog. written, doodled, and loved by kai. 21+ ONLY. a constant work in progress. please read rules and muse pages!

I'm not 100% sure what's happening in this picture other than a lot of "small angy protecc big beef" and I'm not even sure about that LMAO I am pleased with it, though

Got a new tablet and decided to try and draw Derek! I think it turned out fairly decent.

@codebestowed sent in a meme! || “No, stop! Stay away! I said, STAY AWAY!” ( this can be from Obscura Data if you want, totally up to you OvO )

» — † — » A forgotten village, covered in snow. Alex stared down at it, and he felt Xael coil and writhe within his prison at the sight.

His home. The place in Alex's dreams. The demon hissed, scraping and clawing with a fervor to make his host turn back, but Alex firmly planted his feet and hissed a prayer under his breath. It had taken every last penny and favor he could scrabble together to get here, and he wasn't about to turn back just because of an anxious demon. Even if Alex wanted to, turning back would be nigh impossible anyway--the pass he'd cut through to get to this valley was buried under several feet of snow. A white fog had settled in, too, dense like cotton, and looking back, he could barely see the forest just beyond the village bounds anymore.

Something told him turning back now would mean wandering that mist forever.

Alex unwrapped one of the energy bars he'd brought with him, biting into the cheap, chalky brick and chewing it slowly as he took in the sights. The village was old, incredibly so, and could hardly be described as a village at all anymore save for a few rotted posts and weathered cornerstones, indicating where houses had once stood. Trees had sprouted up in the time since its abandoning, sparse, but clustered close enough together to somewhat shield the ground beneath from snowfall. No grass grew. No lichens, either. There were no signs of wildlife, either--no tracks, no cries, no marks, nothing.

It was just Alex, the moon, the snow, and the village--and whatever else lay in waiting in the old ruins. And he was just fine with that. Shoving the wrapper into his pocket as he finished the last of his energy bar, Alex stepped into the empty grounds, snow crunching beneath his boots. His breath rose in frosted mist before him, blending in with the fog that loosely clung to the surrounding air. But aside from that? It was utterly silent.

Even Xael was silent, something that Alex couldn't help but feel just a bit unnerved by. Granted, he hadn't exactly been favorable this whole trip. If anything, he had seemed more determined than ever to convince his host that this was a bad idea.

But now that they were here. . . .

Alex's foot bumped into something solid, and he looked down to see a snapped over trunk--or at least, that's what he thought it was. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was part of an old building. The lumber had long since rotted away beyond recognition, woodrot and weathering reducing it to little more than splintered bone, with stone inset strategically around it to anchor it.

Something lay discarded among the ruins, and Alex stooped down to pick up the glinting object. His fingers touched something cold and sharp, and lightning shot through his veins. Ice stabbed into his temples, chilling visions wracking his brain, and Alex cried out in pain as images invaded his mind.

A woman stood here, basket under her arm, her hips cocked to balance the load. Furs layer over a warm, woolly dress, her blonde hair braided up and away from her tattooed face. A little distance away, two children--a boy and a girl--bearing her heavy eyes and crooked nose run past, laughing as they chased each other through the square.

Another was watching them, hidden amongst the people milling about in the background, but Alex could feel his eyes. Dark, watchful, haunting--his manufactured boots and synthetic fabrics keeping him warm as snow goggles shielded his eyes set him apart from the villagers passing by and through him. In his hands was a strange device. A camera? It, too, belonged to a different time and place.

A boy appeared at the man's side, and the noise of the village became steadily louder, the people moving faster. Something was wrong. Alex covered his ears as screams and shouts in a forgotten language echoed all around him, fire scorching his bare skin where the deceased scrambled past in screeching blurs of panic. Pain cut across his back, and he stumbled forward as the man out of time and his companion turned their backs.

Another slash, followed by a cry that shook Alex to his bones, and he realized that the village was under attack. Something shot through him, driving back the source of the agony, and he stumbled after the stranger with his camera. Xael hissed in pain, low growls of discontent rumbling through Alex's core where the demon squirmed.

More spirits fled through him, more visions stabbing into his brain. The children, the children--! A little boy cried in his mother's arms as her body shielded him from the hail of arrows descending upon them. A warrior let out a vicious cry, his face a contorted vision of anger and ferocity as he charged.

Alex stumbled through the chaos assailing his senses, trying to pick out one ghostly pair of footsteps amongst many. But amidst the chaos and blurred spirits attacking from all sides, it was impossible to see anything. Where had they gone? Why wasn't it stopping? Damn it, if everything would just stop, for just a moment--!!

"No, stop! Stay away! I said, STAY AWAY!"

The voice cut through the turmoil, and for a second, the vision seemed to freeze in time. Splitting pain shot up Alex's foot, the ground hurtled up to meet him, and he shouted in pain as he hit the dirt face first. His hands went flailing wildly in front of him as he tried to break his fall, but all he managed was to further disorient himself.

"Shit!"

His hand landed on something strangely shaped and ice cold, too smooth and curved to be a tool, with ridges and an odd shape. What the . . . ? Alex raised his head and shook it, squinting at his find. An old camera lay on the ground beneath his hand, covered in a thin layer of frost. It looked . . . ancient. Relatively, anyway. Wasn't this the same camera that guy had been holding . . . ?

It took a moment to register that the onslaught of visions and spirits had stopped--but now stood before him was a boy. Alex jumped, sitting upright with a sharp inhale. What was a kid doing out here of all places? And dressed like that in this cold? And his eyes. . . . Alex's own unnatural blues widened at the sight of those red eyes, taking in the black scrawling over part of the youth's face. Another spirit. And yet . . . somehow he didn't seem entirely malevolent, unlike the ones Alex was used to.

The middle of the night, and Alex can't sleep, as usual. He consults the cards, but if anything, they remind him why he's afraid to dream.

» — † — » "Would you like to know your future?" The voice called out, raspy, deep, and seductive. A man younger than his pitch evoked looked up, all mysterious smiles under a curtain of long, dark hair, and hooded eyes smeared with black grease paint. Tattoos of various symbols decorated his knuckles, thick, heavy rings of steel and silver wrapped around his fingers as he passed a deck between them.

The cards flowed as easily as water as they were shuffled, and the man held Alex with his heavy, dark stare. Charming. Mysterious. Right at home on Bourbon Street, peddling hexes and hoodoo--or in some garage, pounding away on a well-loved drum kit. Alex's type to a 'T'. But even so, the bright-eyed brunet merely quirked the corner of his mouth and shook his head.

"No, thanks," he said. The fortune-teller regarded him a moment longer, probably about to lean into his sales pitch, but Alex was already gone. His chest felt tight as he walked, and a chill touched his shoulders as he hurried away. A dark chuckle followed, his reflection in a passing window grinning with sharp teeth and black eyes as he fled.

Alex hated fortune-tellers. Frauds at best, new-age idiots at worst, it made his nose itch to watch them work. Most of the time, their craft was harmless enough. Entertain, swindle, pocket a bit of that sweet tourist cash--hell, Alex had done it a few times himself when pressed. The difference was he knew doing it invited that unwanted thing if he wasn't careful. Not always. Not inherently. But eventually. It was one of the unfortunate side effects of having a demon bound to you.

Fortune-tellers, frauds and fools alike, had no idea what their tricks might invite. Most of the time a mischievous spirit or two might get involved, but Alex had no desire to see those hellish eyes smile back at him from across a table again.

No. Better to do it himself.

An aluminum tin rattled as Alex pulled it from his pocket, just barely big enough to cover his palm and decorated with stylized birds and wings. Scarlet paint framed a golden sunset (or perhaps it was a sunrise) with black birds, hazy clouds, and an angelic figure surrounded by leaves and thorns. Alex exhaled as he popped it open and withdrew a deck of his own, setting it on the vanity.

A random assortment because I keep forgetting to post these

Alex has a difficult time with book learning at times, and has never been officially diagnosed by a professional for any mental illnesses he may have.

He avoids doctors and medical professionals in general as he is not fully human--his guts will be falling out before he'll consider maybe calling a cab to the ER.

Alex was raised Catholic, but his experiences with demons, ghosts, the paranormal, and more have left him jaded and questioning. Part of him believes his lack of faith is directly responsible for the trouble he has keeping Xael at bay.

He holds the occult in contempt to a degree, despite using many 'forbidden' practices himself. His mother was a witch and she's the root of all his problems, after all.

Alex has no idea what happened to Cassandra, although according to Maria and what few glimpses of memory he can dredge up, he's pretty sure she's dead.

Alex has no idea who his father is, and has never been interested in looking as he got older. He suspects there's a good chance his biological father is dead, but if he's out there alive somewhere, Alex would rather avoid dragging him into his problems.

Alex's favorite sweets are snow cones and spicy mango pops, and his favorite food is sopa de lima topped with eggs sunny side up.

The Diego family attempted to hold a Mass and take Communion with Alex present once. He doesn't remember much of it except being violently sick afterwards for a few days, and they never attempted it again.

He really dislikes most breads and yogurt.

While he knows a fair bit about gardening and subsistence farming, Alex really sucks at growing anything. He's convinced it's another side effect of his curse that plants seem to just die when he messes with them.

Most animals avoid him, and while he loves dogs, he's developed a fear of them after being attacked on more than one occasion. Animals seem to be especially sensitive to his aura and even good-natured dogs tend to exhibit aggression or fear if he gets too close.