Martyrs Wheel

As most of you realized by now, this blog is no longer in use. I’ll be archiving it, so it’ll remain up for my own use or, if any former partners wish to look around at the writing we’ve done, they may do so at a whim. It was a total blast playing Alfred, and I still love his blessed little heart. His muse will always be a favorite of mine, but I have no will to continue writing him.  Best of luck to all of those who continue writing for their old muses, and will write on.  -and, of course, my parting words; PRAISE THE GREAT MARTYR LOGARIUS!!!!!

Tags: i’ll pass; whoever wants to write this just go for it!

▌XI  ▌ ⇥  Collarbone kiss -Men were undone by the blood, as was foretold by the holy envoys of Earth.Regardless of individuality, all would succumb to its temptation. Sickness was but a rung on the spiraling helix of humanity- perhaps it was the fragile step preceding death itself. Why had he ever thought he’d be able to escape it? Alfred must’ve been a true fool then- a fool clouded by dreams of greatness. He dared to strive high, and he was thankful the Martyr above had struck him with such a weight that all he’d been able to do was plummet endlessly down.Judas was that weight. A force like a tempest of mystery, pain, hatred and faithlessness; so suddenly cast into the Executioner’s life. He was the serpent of the end, and Alfred was blinding staggering through his garden. Every blow he’d taken for the other man, every battle he’d helped him through; the blonde asked for nothing in return aside from companionship. The cooperation was tense, but it had worked well enough.And now this; the apex of it all would surely result in both of them dead. Dreams left unrealized- Yharnam ever darker.He’d known the Hunter was suffering, having refused a blood treatment after their latest skirmish with the freakish godhead known as Amygdala. They’d both been wounded something awful, but Judas insisted on striving onward until they’d returned to the city. Their cover was any empty building just outside of the Grand Cathedral. Alfred had noticed the rotting corpses of two Hunters in the square before they’d ducked into the doorway- he said nothing, but felt a nauseating pang of satisfaction at having outlived others to such a point.What was he becoming?In the darkness, his eyes followed the shape of Judas as he fumbled forth. The long curves and sharp edges of the other Hunter were illuminated with the ghastly orange and purple of the moonlight beyond the door frame. When he’d turned to face Alfred, he looked every bit the trapped animal; glowing crimson eyes were blown, bloodshot, and that sweet little bow of a mouth was twisted with that scowl he’d become so fond of. “Close the door.” The mused dark hair feathered beautifully, framing his flushed cheeks as if he’d stepped from a painted portrait. The blonde thought he saw a bead of sweat trickle down the other’s pale throat- vanishing into the grey of his collar. The very idea of something so human from Judas churned at his insides. “Alfred, close it.” The door was shut. Only a thin line of light managed to lance underneath, licking their ankles. The Executioner came forward cautiously, his height just barely below his collaborator as they stood side-by-side. “If we’re to keep on, you must use the blood.” He found himself saying so softly, tracing the profile of the church Hunter with his eyes. “You will not heal with rest alon-” Abruptly, the dark haired Hunter cut him off. “Quiet! I cannot hear myself think with your incessant chatter!” The voice was a strange mix of Judas, and something else. It was as if the blood was coming alive within him- disfiguring him from the inside, but it had yet to reveal itself externally. A strange fever mounted within Alfred then, and he found himself carefully moving that thick dark hair away from the Hunter’s pale throat. Judas cast him a warning look- an obvious demand to cease immediately- but the heat coming from this sickened body was spurring the Executioner on. Just a taste of the fleeting humanity, one taste would be enough–Lips pressed lightly against the darker Hunter’s jawline. They lingered for a second, moving lower with a brief swipe of his tongue on the heated skin. Instantly, Judas’s hands came up, presumably to push Alfred away- but instead of actually casting him aside, they seemed to enclose around his shoulders, forcing him against the other body in a tight embrace. Naturally, the blonde moved in tandem; his arms came around the addled Hunter to cup his waist. One of them growled. Growled, as if a mere animal. A rush of warmth moved lower in him, and he felt as though he’d collapse, were he not sealed within these arms. Yet he kept on, lips working against the fragile skin of Judas’s throat and lower still; tracing the path left by the saline droplet he’d seen only minutes ago.His right hand slowly trailed upwards, along the rough fabric of the church Hunter’s vest and leather trappings until he came to that damnable grey collar. The buttons easily parted, revealing the start of the long line that was Judas’s collarbone- unguarded by cloth, dampened by exertion, and entirely Alfred’s to claim.His head pressed beneath the red-eyed Hunter’s chin, soft curls tickling the bare flesh before gloved fingers knotted them in a fist. Whether or not Judas was pleased or impatient, the Executioner would never truly know. The tip of his tongue dipped in the small divot at the base of the mans throat, while the fever guided him into peppering little open-mouthed kisses along the visible length of Judas’s collar. He was aching to hear some sound of approval from him- some sign that this sin wasn’t entirely wrong.The angry thrum of blood pounded silently between them- Alfred could feel the insistent heartbeat only inches below his lips before he drew back, trying to look into those strangely radiant eyes. The hand still held tight to his hair, clenching and loosening as if unsure what to do next.Alfred took a step back, feeling Judas let him go without any resistance. When their eyes met, the Executioner pushed his cloak off his shoulders and let it pool below him. The blonde worked his gauntlets free afterward- gaze not breaking from his addled collaborator as he did so.May the great Martyr have mercy on them both, he thought, for surely this illness was no fault of theirs. 

bloodarsenic ▮ ☾  ▮ ↣  He awoke from a dream of being eaten alive.  It wasn’t him, per say. The sleeping visions had him peering through the eyes of a massive feline; a lion, built as the beasts adorning noble heraldry. The muscles of the creature flexed easily, moving through the low brush without a sound. The goal it had, he had, was the elimination of incessantly cackling pests in his territory, hyenas. The dreadful mongrels were far too close to his den; so many of them prowling around salivating upon themselves, as if awaiting some immense, mangy congregation to take place. This lion grew so weary of their presence, of their sounds filling up the quiet night air! His terrible ache to silence them was insurmountable. Yet each night, more of the beasts came from the darkness. They laughed and laughed, as the lion suffered the audacious noise. Finally, he took his stand. As the chattering mass moved, the cat countered them. He could see a singular female packed in among the filthy horde, her coat strangely fair in color, though slick with oil and grime. Upon her head were disfiguring scars, as though she wore a mock helmet of her past vile victories. The lion prepared to go straight for her. Never mind dallying with the guards she kept! He knew his massive size would part a way easily, all he needed was a clear shot- Something then wound tenderly around one of his paws, startling him. When he found the culprit, the snake was already fleeing back into the bush. The lion let a deep growl bubble forth, but it suddenly quieted when he realized the grouped mongrel’s laughter had stopped- and his paw was numb. A pair of red eyes mischievously glinted, gliding through the grass into darkness as he carefully moved to follow. Pain lanced upwards from his haunches. He’d been bitten by the damn thing. Nervous, the lion backed out of his cover. His mane shook, thick curling gold bouncing as his tongue lapped at the mark in his flesh. Toxic, those snakes were. So terribly toxic. How’d one find him? Head lifting, his eyes suddenly met with the female Hyena’s. Her fangs were slick with mucus, body striding forward in an easy rhythm as she descended on him. It wasn’t her alone; more and more came upon him with jaws gaping. Their innumerable teeth tore into his flesh, ripping chunks away before he could even begin to fight them off. His last fierce roar died in his throat. Within minutes, the great beast was reduced to bones. Alfred’s eyes opened when the lion’s finally closed. - - - - - -   The Executioner was alone, seated on the floor of an empty room. The door of this house had been broken down by some previous intruder, and he’d come here for no reason other than to try returning to the Hunter’s dream with a bit more cover than the altar could provide. Of course, it failed; he instead suffered trivial nightmares. “Blast.” His bare hands rubbed at the sockets of his eyes. “I must still be able to...” The black snake of his vision slipped along the outside of his thigh; instinctively, he tucked his legs beneath himself and kept a hand clamped on the dream-wounded ankle. The blonde felt fine, and he knew that he’d not been bitten nor eaten, but... It had felt real. Particularly, those hateful little red eyes felt as though they’d been staring into his soul. Not the lion’s, Alfred’s. The eyes mirrored something; Someone he’d seen before gave him that same smug, disdainful look.  Perhaps a ‘Church Hunter’ would better know how to gain access to the dream. A white bell was drawn from beneath his robes. Squinting at the instrument briefly, he gave it a little tentative shake. When he confirmed that it did still produce clear sound, he stood and moved toward the open doorway. Once, twice the bell was rung. In silence, he awaited to see if Judas would be the one beckoned to him.