ghost / most .

( * @traumantic​︱prompt accepting ! ) :   7. an antique shop that smells of death and decay 

                   they’ve been eyeing the store, crumbling brick and overtaken with ivy, lawrence had practically begged her to take them, as if they couldn’t go alone.   ( it’ll be fun, c’mon j ! )    the inside of the shop is covered from wall to wall in shelves, most holding old antique dolls, some holding glass bottles or stuffed animals. the floorboards creak under the weight of living girl and dead thing as they enter, the bell ringing above their heads. the only consistency here seems to be that the entire shop and it’s items are covered in dust, as if no one had considered cleaning it in eons.  they can’t tell if the smell of dried blood and rot is coming from the freshly dug suit they’re wearing, or if it’s coming from the creepy child sized doll in the corner that may or may not be a cover up for the most gruesome of murders. grin spreads across rotted features to expose pointed teeth, they move further into the shop giggling as gleefully as a five-foot dead thing can manage..    “ mama . . . . ”   their voice shifts, higher in pitch, it echos through porcelain dolls, glass heads turning in unison to look at jordan, glass eyes dull and lifeless in the dim shop lighting. 

THIS  ISN’T  THE  FIRST  TIME   that  betelgeuse  has  flipped  them  off  .  usually  ,  the  angel  hums  ,  a  small  noise  of  acknowledgement  that  must  be  coming  from  their  throat   (  right  ?  )  .  they  remind  the  other  of  how  it’s  only  a  vulgarity  in  cultures  such  as  this  one  ,  and  it  is  a  silly  vulgarity  at  that  .  it’s  strange  ,  no  reaction  given  in  the  slightest  other  than  ,  perhaps  ,  confusion  .   but  ,  on  occasion  ,  the  angel  has  a  temper  .  like  when  betelgeuse  tries  to  be  rude  ,  and  the  angel  is  very  much  irritated  with  not  getting  what  they  want  ,  and  they  grab  their  own  halo  despite  the  blistering  burn  of  sharp  light  piercing  their  palm  ,  and  they  swing  it   at  the  other  .

AN  ANGELS  HALO  IS  VERY   dangerous  .  that  much  likely  doesn’t  need  to  be  said  .  the  halo  slices  through  rotten  flesh  ,  lets  one  hand  of  the  rotting  corpse  fall  to  the  ground  before  gently  placing  halo  back  above  their  head  .   ‘  did  that  hurt  ,  my  exasperating  tombstone  ?  perhaps  you will  be  kinder  without  a  hand  .  ’   white  boots  with  golden  details  move  to  step  on  one  of  the  fingers  of  the  now  severed  hand  ,  keeping  it  stuck  in  place  .   ‘  i  will  consider  returning  this  to  you  when  you  have  taught  yourself  to  behave  .  do  you  naturally  fix  yourself  from  such  damages  ,  or  will  you  need  my  assistance  when  the  time  comes  ?  i  am  uncertain  when  it  comes  to  your  level  of  divinity  .  ’

                snarl pulls at demon’s features, irritation and a flicker of something like pain, it’s dull the throbbing at wrist. they shift to look at ethereal figure. they look at arm, lack of hand. the black and green sludge that oozes from it. eyebrows pull together in pinched expression, they watch it for a long moment before sighing, shaking moss and dust from sleeve before  the cracking of bone echos in the air between demon and angel. a third arm slips from suit jacket, twisting over damaged arm a swirl of black and white twisted and cracking in unnatural ways until third arm merges back into first, wrist cracking as two bones become one. it’s a strange thing to watch, something that happens that really shouldn’t, that can’t possibly happen . . . can it ? well, it certainly does. 

( @astrapure​ prompted ! ) :  ‘ my heart goes tippity tap tap tap when i hold your hand. ’

( @sitched​ ! ) :  sorry but I just don't scare easily