the queen bee 👑

They dabbled in the same vein of work it seemed. Her version was to ease the ones who felt they still had a mission, incomplete with their lives. Possession ran along a similar line. Some spirits he had withdrawn from others were the ones that refused to surrender their foothold in the living world. Melissa didn’t enjoy grounding them, nor did Hannibal. They were best to be at peace and grant such deliverance to their host as well. “And those that wish to stay? I suppose some find peace in that.” His eyes roamed over his kitchen, wondering if those spirits that she had spoken of knew of their past life. If they didn’t, were they content with mulling over this space with him in it?

He had encountered no darker presences in the house; no cold pockets in the hallway, no doors that resisted, no particular corner that the cat refused to enter. His stomach made itself known again, a low insistent sound, as the soup’s heady scent pushed into every corner of the kitchen. His fingers found the collar where he had left it on the table, and he turned it idly with his fingertips.

“Forgive me if this sounds stereotypical .. but do you work from a giant book that is placed on a podium?” Since putting down roots here he had never encountered such a concentration of unusual people in one place, each one stranger and more specific than the last. And yet he felt more at home in this small town than he ever had anywhere else on earth. More than Rome, more than the rectories of his early postings. Perhaps it was this reason alone that he had not taken any of the Vatican’s requests to venture too far away from the area. Every assignment that required a flight had been quietly refused. He filed his reports and gave them no reason to press the matter; his work here was demonstrably active, and he was never without something to report.

But their connection was not one-sided; the witch merely chuckled in a lighthearted manner, not at all offended by the ideas or beliefs that Hannibal nurtured about her kind. At her side, the pumpkin soup simmered softly, the aroma of the vegetable becoming increasingly entrancing for a hungry soul like the exhausted priest following his demanding day at work.

"Not at all times - but yes, we do have a very ancient grimoire that has been in the family for generations. It is a gorgeous item, to be honest; many witches before me added their own spells or recorded their thoughts. It is one of my most prized treasures - shared with my twin sister, of course."

Melissa moved again, slowly finding her way around Hannibal's kitchen to fetch a pair of bowls and gingerly serve the soup, but not before she sampled her own cooking with an humming sound of approval. The brunette picked a couple of spoons from the drawer, handing Hannibal his dinner and finding a chair to claim for herself, ready to join the priest for the last meal of their day.

"Bon appétit," she said in perfect French, but not yet digging in. Melissa's honeyed eyes observed him for a moment, as if taking Hannibal's figure again in that unique condition where he looked both priest and common man, the symbol of his faith something so utterly fascinating to see when it was cast away.

"Would you like to come visit? I know I have been imposing on your hospitality, but I would be more than glad to have you over at the Addams manor," she suggested, quietly studying Hannibal's expression to that offer. "My brother-in-law and sister would be delighted to have you and I could show you a day in my life, if you would be interested."

SCULMASK: indie / priv / sel / Atlus multimuse Exploring grief, death, the pain of loss and how it never truly leaves you; depression, anxiety, confronting your true self and coming to terms with it; isolation, belonging, finding justice in an unjust society

Various things spoken in an adventuring party pt. 3

It had been a tease, maybe even a joke: What if they get caught and have the whole world's attention on them. Not intentionally, god no. Tohru isn't interested in getting caught, not out of boredom nor out of some potential thrill he can't be assed to delude himself into. Maybe aspects of life are boring the fuck out of him, but he's not about to do something stupid that'll keep him from his wife.

But despite it being a joke, she catches him off guard with her reply. Sincere, no amount of sarcasm to be found tucked inside that perfect smile or adoring eyes of hers. For a brief moment, he simply gazes at her, then a grin curls his lips as he leans in to kiss her. "You can still catch me on my back foot, hm?"

He huffs a soft laugh when he pulls away. The knife in his hand has dropped blood onto her jeans, and he knows she won't be mad, but he also knows how much she really likes these ones. "Aw, shit. Sorry, Mel. I'll get you a new pair, okay? Go on, step back for a second." So much for their plan of not getting blood on them this time. Spur of the moment crimes tend to see this happen, though, and that's why they carry bleach on them. It'll fuck up her jeans, but at least the blood won't be identifiable.

Once a vulnerable victim in his hands, Melissa knew that he would never turn his back on her now. Tohru had seen the worst in the hostess - the malice, the jealousy, the violence - and chose to embrace it all instead of sending her to the precinct in handcuffs. There would never be another human being who could see her so profoundly, beyond the masks worn for the customers and colleagues alike - Melissa didn't need to hide and it made it all so delightfully... True.

In a world of lies, their love was the only thing that mattered.

"Please, Tohru - it's nothing," she replied, voice sincere; Melissa knew he didn't mean to stain the jeans and, besides, she had been a little closer than ideal. She couldn't help, though - Tohru was so good at what he did that Melissa felt like a clumsy child in comparison. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he caught her before anyone else in the force - otherwise, instead of a getting a husband, the brunette would have found herself behind bars for life.

"Can you teach me?" Melissa asked, hovering over his left shoulder and bending her body down to get a closer look without stepping in too close - she was the textbook definition of an eager student, not at all impressed by the blood, the gore or even the questionable thing about murdering another, "Should I twist my wrist in a certain way or is there a pressure point I'm missing? It's so hard to the take these off," she huffed, sounding a bit frustrated. Her career as a hostess had been very useful for the most unhelpful things only, such as eating elegantly from a fruit platter or pouring sake in a certain way.

sculmask : inside / priv / sel Persona multimuse. Exploring grief, death, the pain of loss and how it never truly leaves you, depression, anxiety, confronting your true self and coming to terms with it, isolation, belonging, finding justice in an unjust society

ft. Mitsuru Kirijo, Makoto Yuki, Akihiko Sanada / Margaret, Naoto Shirogane, Rise Kujikawa, Tohru Adachi / Akira Kurusu, Kasumi and Sumire Yoshizawa, Makoto Niijima, Sae Niijima, Takuto Maruki

sideblog to @cybrvce

lilian really is the perfect little songbird for nealie. she deserves better than how nealie treats her, but she likes that nealie can't help herself. enabling her whims, so eager to experiment, it's impossible not to play with her. and today, frustrated with the world, she can use the outlet.

Nealie was a wonder - it was no surprise their studying was completely disregarded in favor of some extra making out in the privacy of a dorm room. It was a miracle she didn't need to share accommodations (even if walls were paper thin); Lilian had forgotten to place a sock or anything on the doorknob when the redhead kissed her on the lips and pressed her against the door, letting Lilian feel the toned physique of someone who was a real fighter under all the pretty clothes.

"Oh my god, Nealie," she gasped, eyes opening with a flash of pleasure. The brunette moaned, hips shyly moving from one side to the other in a circular motion, as if trying to understand how her body reacted to the toy - and whether it made her girlfriend feel something different too, sharing that form of intense pleasure with her. One of her hands moved to find the opening between her legs, two digits rubbing over that swollen clit and sensing just how sensitive she was from that mere second of contact.

"Can I see you?" the younger woman asked, raising her head and supporting her torso with the other free hand splayed over the desk, finding an empty spot among notebooks, empty coffee mugs and uncapped pens. There was no mirror there - no way of watching how Nealie felt, but maybe they could move it to her bed. The brunette made an effort to look over an shoulder, careful not to let the double-ended dildo slip away, "If we go to the bed, can we do this face to face? I want to... Touch you too," she said, talking coherently turning into a complex exercise when the redhead moved, her pleasure fueling the one of her lover.

Two weeks had passed since that night. It was her words that kept him up at night. He had arranged for his death, for his mind had been determined that night. It was only a matter of putting all the pieces of his life in small boxes, promises to those he loved if he ever went missing. Even apologizing to his little sister if he came off as peculiar in the coming days. There was a high possibility that he would not return at all, and he was not one to live his promises unkept if something awry had happened to him. It was a peculiar feeling prepping for the possibility of your death. Even if he found death comforting all his life. He wasn’t afraid of it, only afraid of what he was causing others if he did not return.

Melissa always knew where he was when he sought her. As if his mind was being read and without explanation, she would appear for one of their long walks. He did so now, as he walked the length of the cliffside where the sea kissed the sides of the rock with such violence that matched the emotions in his heart. Soon, that thrashing of an instrument would no longer beat and instead, something different would take its place.

He had dressed in his finest materials, the long coat accenting and protecting him from the cold winds that sharply cut through with the forcefulness of the sea at its side, and still the wind found the gaps at his wrists and throat. He ceased his pacing at the edge of the cliff, hearing the roaring of the water below. It was as if he was going to take the leap to his death; in a way, it was of the same vein. He wasn’t fearful still. A strange ache had nestled in the chamber of his heart, his eyes lingering at the window where his smaller sibling slept, oblivious to the turmoil that her older brother was experiencing.

Melissa's prolonged stay at the Lecter estate had barely been questioned - mortals were easily influenced with her mind gifts, ready to believe whatever excuse she fed them about remaining in their company after the original parties had long ended. The fact that some peasants or the random servant from the castle disappeared did not seem to matter; unfortunate accidents happened every day.

The wind outside was kept at bay with the aid of a heavy, dark red cloak, shielding most of the countess' hair and delicate fabrics from the elements. The immortal's eyes were glowing without the need to reign her powers in; Hannibal knew what she was and what he would become - after two weeks, there was no reason to pretend to be remotely mundane. Melissa found him by the cliff, her crimson-clad figure an easy one to spot by her companion as he gazed at the castle.

"Second thoughts, my dear?" she inquired, but the tone was kind. It was not unusual for the bittersweet feelings to emerge, even if she couldn't personally relate (her own making had been much more straightforward when contact with her family had been so limited). "If not, I have prepared a place for us tonight - we should both be away from any prying eyes."

There was a cabin nearby - probably built by someone who worked for the Lecters and took care of castle grounds. Melissa had it quietly vacated with the aid of her mental abilities, but required little else in terms of furniture. They had a comfortable bed, spare clothes and sturdy windows (no doubt built like that because of the wind) if they needed to spend their first morning there. It would be safe and, more importantly - the two of them would be undisturbed.

The vampire removed her cloak once they got inside, hanging it by the door - a hand reached out for the fireplace there and, as if by magic, flames erupted there. Another one of the gifts often bestowed upon her species, of course, but one she hardly displayed in front of humans as it was complicated to justify as a mere parlor trick. A few candles received the same treatment, giving the small cabin just enough light and warmth - all for Hannibal's benefit, of course.