#{rp.}

Forsaken...child of Light and Shadow...

It was Gin's voice, but wrong.

You may try all you like, dear Sister, but Gin will never be rid of Us. We are in her very essence, you see.

Shadowy tendrils reached towards Diane, wrapping around her in what would be a suffocating hold for any living being.

The work of the Doctor...now you...all incredibly futile. We will have her. And your world...

How many times has Lord Felscythe lectured her about the sanctity of doorways?

But the figure of Gin in her yard had been hard to ignore. How did she get there? How had she managed to wander so far? Was she alright? Was she in danger? In pain? And by the time she was close enough to see, No, this was not Gin at all, it was too late.

Though she no longer needed to breathe, a body dislikes the restriction of movement. She makes a valiant attempt at escape for a few seconds, kicking out her legs; before she stills.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

The Fiend’s eyes narrowed in thought at the offer. Scratch had every reason not to hear Cicero out; apart from not trusting the other.

Whatever favors the other asked, would surely land him in trouble. That’s the last thing he needs. Trouble.

Then again, he was curious. Perhaps, there’s something to gain.

for all the studying she did of demacia's geography and the world beyond, it's an entirely different beast to be thrust into the wild of dark woods and dim skies alone. without a map, without a plan, without a single piece of gold to her name. only her etwahl, ever faithful, soul-bound and heavy in her conscience. but despite the magic in her veins, sona is no mage: she is untrained and doesn't know the first thing about fighting. even if she did, she isn't sure if she would be able to make the choice to weaponize the melodies she'd never known could be lethal.

she doesn't know the first chord to strike, back pressed against the rough bark of a towering redbark tree. it feels ridiculous, slashing her fingers across the etwahl's strings, but it won't speak to her now, and the melodies are coming out all wrong; sona's panicking, frantic with each helpless strum as the creature advanced closer and closer. the etwahl steals her voice, and still it will not come to her rescue — maybe it can't.

starter for @ashenail.

Right now, Roth had nothing better to do than chow down on cheap, chili cheese dogs. He ordered four, one for Buzz. Messily, Roth worked through his second hotdog. The scene was demoralizing, horrible to bear witness.

Two, very attractive succubi walked pass. Roth made eye contact, as they cringed and one even mumbled “eww, gross” as she looked away. Roth didn’t see what their problem was ( despite his jacket covered with cheese and chili ).

Cleaning up a bit,  Roth looked over at Buzz. Yes, he hated him and also enjoyed being around him. But he mostly liked him while also mostly hating him. Their friendship was complicated and complex.

“So, after lunch. Whattaya, say we go smash televisions. Or . . . I don’t know . . . file our taxes together.”

Truth is, Roth was bored today. He doesn’t really know what they should do today. Overhead, he could hear the distinct sound of the fluorescent lighting. That electronic buzz that drones on and on.

All signs pointed here, to a monument of all-consuming industry. The Poseidon Oil Refinery was a good hiding place. Plenty of vantage points, plenty of spots to ambush any pursuers. Ares knew this was an ambush, that Jakob and his hired thugs were waiting.

Ares wasn’t going to keep them waiting, not for long. After all, it was either here or now. Sooner or later, he’ll find Jakob again.

Why delay?

Pass the chain link fence, Ares moved quickly towards some outlining structures. Old storage sheds, built like barracks. There was old barrels, wrecked Poseidon energy trucks nearby. This place was cleaned out, over scavenged. Soon enough, the whole refinery would be torn bit by bit.

Moving closer, Ares kept his eyes on the pipes overhead. Large, industrial pipes to funnel crude oil for processing. Off to his right, there was what seemed to be an entrance into the refinery interior. The door was opened, with a chain dangling on the handle. Ares creeped up and paused, thinking he hears someone inside. It might’ve been Jakob, maybe on of his thugs.

Readying himself, Ares moved inside expecting violence. He expected someone normal. Someone human, at least.

What he came face to face with subverted those expectations.

" obsession can be hell from which you'll never be free. "