oh , [ name ] . it's just you .

where are you going to run , [ name ] ?

what are you saying ?

why do you think i brought you here ?

you said you believed in my work .

i would kill myself before helping in such a task .

you've been so kind to me , [ name ] .

you can't kill me , [ name ] .

so , you're the great [ name ] .

we all have our little problems .

let's make it your decision , shall we ?

i wish you a week in hell .

why don't you do something about it ?

this is all a test of faith .

i can curse all i want , dammit .

you . turn around .

strangers don't last long here .

the laws of men mean little to me .

i don't need your help .

you stay here . they're trying to kill me .

nice to see you too , [ name ] .

did i do something to you in a past life ?

i hope you do have a heart , [ name ] . because someday i'd like to drive a stake through it .

your reputation precedes you .

i am hollow ! and i will live ... forever .

please , say you will not try again .

do not fear me ... everybody else fears me .

i was unprepared . it won't happen again .

do you understand forgiveness ?

i would rather die than help you .

don't be boring , everyone who says that always dies .

may he rest in peace .

how long has it been , 300 , 400 years ?

you don't remember , do you ?

what exactly is it i am to be remembering ?

it's no surprise you would know all about me .

we have such history , you and i .

have you ever wondered why you have such horrific nightmares ?

[ name ] , it's alright , i'm taking you home .

what , did you think we haven't tried everything before ?

no one knows how to kill [ name ] .

i could have used that information earlier .

would you like me to refresh your memory a little ?

allow me to ... reintroduce myself .

i think we've overstayed our welcome .

don't give me that look .

you were right . i'm sorry .

monster ? who's the monster here ? i have done nothing wrong !

look , there's still time .

you were right . i'm sorry .

do you have any family , [ name ] ?

if you value your lives , and the lives of your kin , you will kill me .

evil may have created it , may have left its mark on it , but evil does not rule it .

now you know why they call me a murderer .

oh my god ... you've been bitten .

so much trouble ... so much trouble .

now you will become that which you hunted so passionately . may others be as passionate in their hunting of you .

don't worry , god will forgive us .

how many commandments can we break in one day ?

oh my god , you should be terrified .

how does it feel to be a puppet on my string ?

neither of us has ever settled for half .

you make my skin crawl .

i'm not gonna like this , am i ?

one brief moment of pain , and we can be together forever .

you have no heartbeat .

you are nothing but damned bones , and damned souls .

well , that doesn't sound like a good thing .

we don't have a choice . just don't get killed .

you don't understand , it doesn't matter what happens to me .

god is not the only one that can create life .

you can't go until i say you can go , and i say you can go when you're dead !

you're supposed to die .

we are both part of the same great game , [ name ] , we just find ourselves on opposite sides of the board .

you are being used , [ name ] , as was i . but i escaped , so can you .

if you're going to kill someone , kill them . don't stand there talking about it .

all i want is life . the continuation of my kind .

at the white side of the board is where @jblaire has placed her. alice is poised to make the opening move of the game, but she hesitates briefly, slim fingers hovering over the pawn sitting innocuously in the shadow of her hand. she glances up, one brow arched in question as she stares at the relaxed executive opposite her.

blaire doesn't like children. though alice hardly qualifies as a child , her gaunt frame && awkward demeanor make her easily mistaken for one. she's clever , though ― && perhaps could prove to be a strong asset for murkoff with the right guidance. these are things jeremy takes note of ; regarding her with a smile && slight tilt of his head.

(   𝘰𝘳   𝘺𝘰𝘶   𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦   𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵   𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥   𝘮𝘦   )   should   have ?   --   should   have ?   a   mockery   of   fondness   flitters   through   it   at   the   thought.   leave   it   to   Jeremy   Blaire   to   tell   𝐆𝐎𝐃   𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅   what   it   should   have   done.   it   scoffs,   maybe   a   snort.   impossible   to   tell   with   its   unearthly   simulacrum   of   a   body.   

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐒   𝐈𝐓?   of   course   he   can.   they're   one   in   the   same.   but   it's   ...   different.   far   away,   muddled.   like   a   splash   of   color   behind   your   eyes   when   you   close   them   too   tight.   here   one   moment   then   gone   the   next,   a   dream   almost.   𝙰𝙻𝙼𝙾𝚂𝚃.   and   that   was   the   epitome   of   it   --   of   them   --   wasn't   it?   the   patron   saints   of   missed   opportunities.   

that   they   could   be   better   if   things   perhaps   went   a   bit   different.   but   mourning   a   lost   hand,   mourning   the   one   you   have   doesn't   assuage   anything.   leaves   you   mending   something   while   the   world   waits   for   you   to   play.   to   take   your   turn.

𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩   --   a   feedback   loop   snaps   it   from   its   thoughts.   a   hand   on   its   thigh,   and   it   stutters   for   just   a   moment.   something   small   and   easy   to   miss,   unless   you   knew   what   to   look   for.   was   it   surprise?   with   no   complexion   its   nearly   impossible   to   tell   what   its   thinking.

❛ not nervous , ❜ he says , lidding his eyes so he may look upon it through dark lashes : damp from reflex while heaving , drying tears still clinging. ❛ what do i have to be nervous about ? ❜ you get the feeling he says it as some sort of challenge , supported by the tugging of lips into a satisfied grin. brat.

His  jaw  doesn't  stay  clamped  shut  for  long,  a  nasally  cackle  rising  up  from  his  chest  as  the  executive  catches  him  off  guard  with  his  retort.  It's  his  real  laugh,  something  Jeremy  pulls  from  him  in  quiet  moments.  That  was  a  real  zinger!

richard laughs. it's an awful sound , grating , like nails dragged along a chalkboard ― something so authentically rick. it suits him , really , off-putting : the kind to send any woman with an ounce of self respect running for the hills. but jeremy maintains his smile , lids drooping over warm , dark eyes in an expression one could almost mistake for fondness ( the laugh is one of blaire's favorite things about him. )

watches   his   tongue   swipe   out   and   something   flares   along   with   the   rage,   lost   in   it   amongst   the   intensity   of   it   all.   a   low   hissing   hum   that   amounts   to   nothing,   studying   him   with   unseen   eyes   and   impossible   biology   that   evades   understanding.

(   just   wanted   to   hear   you   )   --   &   something   twinges   in   his   chest.   (   𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳   𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵?   )   sometimes   even   it   loses   the   line   between   where   one   ends   and   the   other   begins.   (   you're   hurting   me   )   but   he   wanted   to,   hadn't   he?   so   why   doesn't   it   sate   him?   why   does   tearing   apart   the   epitome   of   the   very   thing   he   loathes   in   mankind   feel   like   a   desecration   of   sacred   grounds?

he   is   not   his   apostle   &   they   were   not   meant   for   one   another.   but   they   had   branded   each   other,   chosen   perhaps.   yes,   perhaps . . .   it   relinquishes   him   with   a   soft   rolling   coo.

❝   𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙷.   ❞

almost   wishes   it   had   a   tongue,   so   it   could   taste   all   that   sweet   coppery   salvation,   pure   divinity   in   his   gore.   something   to   savor.   a   thought   quickly   brushed   off   as   jeremy   being   a   poor   influence   on   him,   if   such   a   thing   was   possible.   cages   him   in   against   the   sink   and   leers   at   him,   almost   as   if   peering   through   him   --   into   his   matter   and   mind   with   ease.

it releases him && blaire gets a moment of reprieve ; the pressure behind his eyes dissipating , the static in his marrow dying down to a low buzzing ( not entirely unpleasant . ) he slumps forward so blood may drip into the sink rather than on himself && turns on the tap. it hardly seems fair ― the walrider is always so keen to chat when it wants to. keening on && on in the most inopportune of times : a meeting , whilst he tries to sleep , with women. the latter happening too often to simply be coincidence.

❛ don't act like it's so terrible. ❜ he grumbles , reaching over to grab some tissues && begin addressing his nosebleed. ❛ if you didn't want to talk to me , you should have picked a different host. ❜ or you should have just killed me back at mount massive. but he doesn't say that out loud ― he wonders if it hears him anyway.

its   told   him   that   before,   lamented   about   how   he   cost   them   the   perfect   apostle!   but   that   it   would   savor   his   personal   hell   with   ease.   that   it   would   take   its   time,   remake   him   to   fit   his   needs   --   stretched   to   the   limits:   𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥,   𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺   &   𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭   [   𝙸𝚃   𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳   𝚄𝙽𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴   𝙷𝙸𝙼   !   . . .   just   to   bring   him   back, wrong ]   𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃   &   𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃.   a   tool,   a necessity.   a   home   in   his   blood   and   viscera.

❝   𝚈𝙾𝚄   𝚃𝙴𝙻𝙻   𝙼𝙴   𝙼𝙰𝙽𝚈   𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂,   ❞   it   muses   with   a   twinge   of   a   scoff.   spiteful   &   beguiled   at   jeremy's   suffering.   ❝   𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃   𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂   𝙽𝙾𝚃   𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙽   𝙸   𝙰𝙼   𝙱𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳   𝚃𝙾   𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚈.   ❞   it   chides,   tone   dipping   into   the   scornful   hiss.

❝   𝙵𝙾𝙾𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙷.   𝚆𝙷𝙾   𝙰𝚁𝙴   𝚈𝙾𝚄   𝚆𝙷𝙾   𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂   𝙽𝙾𝚃   𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴   𝙾𝙵   𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁   𝙸𝙻𝙺?   𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁   𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙳   𝙷𝙰𝚂   𝙺𝙽𝙴𝙻𝚃   𝚃𝙾   𝙼𝙴   𝙵𝙾𝚁   𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂,   𝙸   𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻   𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻   𝚈𝙾𝚄   𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃   𝙸   𝚂𝙴𝙴   𝙵𝙸𝚃.   ❞   egotistical   self-righteousness   dripping   from   his   retort   as   it   takes   shape   behind   him.   looms,   like   a   dull   reminder   of   their   pact.   one   made   of   hate   and   carnage.   hungered   for   it   even,   desperate.

𝙰𝙻𝙻   𝙰𝚃   𝙾𝙽𝙲𝙴,   the   static   becomes   almost   unbearable   as   it   shifts   closer.   digits   reaching   out   --   fluttering   like   the   dying   breath   of   a   heart   between   life   and   death.   grasping   firmly   'pon   his   jaw   and   wrenching   him   to   face   it,   dragging   him   away   from   the   mirror.   [   &   𝚈𝙾𝚄   𝙳𝙾   𝙽𝙾𝚃   𝙶𝙴𝚃   𝚃𝙾   𝙷𝙸𝙳𝙴,   𝙽𝙾𝚃   𝙽𝙾𝚆,   𝙽𝙾𝚃   𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼   𝙼𝙴   ]   it's   voice   rattles   out   in   a   familiar   hiss,   somehow   rattling   through   him   like   a   rolling   thunder   intent   to   strip   him   bare   of   that   pesky   ego.

he isn't sure when , but at some point his nose started to bleed. perhaps the result of one of his many vices ― or maybe due to the manifestation behind him [ A MIX OF BOTH. ] the light fixture above flickers , that awful , constant ringing in his ear growing in volume. it's never a good thing when it manifests. too eager to flay blaire alive , worm through any insecurity , flaw in his pristine façade && dredge it to the surface : ( his bum knee from an old baseball injury , his disdain for his father. )

the executive sticks his tongue out to swipe the crimson trail dripping down his lips.

but then it grabs him , && that hurts. like needles embedding into grey matter , twisting , digging. jeremy lets out a pained sound , halfway between a whine && a gasp. that knee buckles , but he catches himself before he falls ( or maybe it holds him up. ) eyes screw shut reflexively , but a twist of a pin has blaire cracking them back open. was that me or you ? ❛ it was just ... ― quiet. just wanted to hear you. ❜ he manages to grit out , eyes flickering around it's form in an attempt to recognize something. [ what are you ? what am i looking at ? ]

𝐀𝐇,   𝐁𝐔𝐓   𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒   𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓   𝐖𝐀𝐒   𝐒𝐎   𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘   . . .   𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐘.

q   ;   (   𝘢𝘳𝘦   𝘺𝘰𝘶   𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?   ) a   ;   𝙾𝙵   𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂𝙴. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦?

once,   the   walrider   had   sought   to   sate   some   endless   bloodlust   when   it   finally   had   him.   𝙰𝚃   𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃   anyways   . . .   but   something   delighted   and   sinister   bubbled   up   in   his   swell   when   he   took   him   then.

𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝚆𝙰𝙻𝚁𝙸𝙳𝙴𝚁   𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂   𝙽𝙾𝚃   𝙻𝙰𝚄𝙶𝙷   . . .   but,   it   certainly   sounded   like   one   at   the   time.   beyond   the   ringing   dull   pain   of   being   swept   to & claimed   --   𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃,   like   cattle.   an   animal.   [   𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴,   𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴,   𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴,   𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴   𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴   &   𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝙻𝙻   𝙳𝙸𝙴   𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽   𝙸   𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻   𝙸𝚃   𝚃𝙾   𝙱𝙴   𝚂𝙾 !   ]

and   with   much   great   reluctance   it   heaves   out   of   the   man   like   a   final   breath.   collective   visage   causing   that   tickle   --   a   rise   of   static   beneath   the   skin   &   shared   somewhere   deep   in   the   back   of   his   mind   ---

❝   𝚂𝚄𝙲𝙷   𝙰   𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂   𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳,   ❞   it   scoffs   and   tsks,   swirling   o'erhead   --   all   around   --   figure   merely   some   echo   of   a   shadow   that jeremy's   vision   can't   grasp.

separation is torturous ; as though something fastened tightly to his subconscious is torn , ripped through the back of his skull , buzzing about the air. blaire lurches forward , catching himself on the sink && finding his mouth fill with saliva , legs weak , brain fried ― he's not used to it : himself being ripped in two , so he heaves once , desperately into the white basin before him. he spits , finding himself panting as the executive attempts to regain some kind of composure.

❛ thought i told you to be gentle ... ❜ jeremy speaks finally , voice tense && croaky , looking back up to the mirror && the swarm that swirls around his bathroom , around him. he's found it much less strenuous to look upon it through a reflection , rather than to gaze at the thing that now cohabits his body directly.