Nov 7, 2025
In the deep darkness of the After-Hours, Cabal busied himself with a bit of specialist shopping at the City Morgue.
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In the deep darkness of the After-Hours, Cabal busied himself with a bit of specialist shopping at the City Morgue.
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"I see the pain in your eyes." -Marnie at Cabal :3c
"Oh? And what was it that tipped you off?"
Irritated and in a great deal of discomfort, Cabal had to resist the urge to waggle his broken arm at the demoness. His forearm jutted at a wrong angle from his elbow; the fingers of his hand blotchy as the limb began to swell.
"I need you to listen carefully; the bone needs to be set correctly."
you are playing a very dangerous game.
[ dream @ cabal. uh oh ]
"Yes, yes, meddling with the powers that be, causing unrest amongst the G-ds, interrupting that delicate balance between Life and Death."
Cabal seemed bored as he listed the various accusations he had heard against himself (in just the last few weeks!), facing the Dream Lord within his own realm. (as if he had a choice in where he went when he was asleep)
"Anything else? Or is this a run-of-the-mill Bad Omen dream?"
“Sometimes,” Darcy’s nimble fingers tugged at the loose and curling label on her glass soda bottle. “I think about how the average color of the universe is this ugly, basic off-white beige they call cosmic latte, and it bores me so bad I wanna cry.”
"If only it were that simple." Cabal replied with a sigh through his nose that belayed irritation. Academics could be so dramatic, he thought to himself with regret. At least he could comport himself with more brevity than most.
"I have been to the backrooms, and the hallways behind that. There is far more variation and color, though I do have some opinions to share with their interior designer. Track lighting and shag carpet as far as the eye can see. With their budget, one would think they might update more than once a millennia."
Silly Game Time: Would you rather spend a year constantly being aware of an unpleasant odor (not a stench, just a bad smell) ... or a year where all your food and drink has very bland flavors (not a bad taste, just barely any taste)?
Cabal was not well known for his enjoyment of silly games. He allowed an uncomfortable silence to stretch on after the question had been posed; a look of general irritation flavoring his habitual scowl.
"Both of those options are a reality for most of the citizens of England." He pointed out. "What is your purpose in asking? Why do you want to know?"
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"you're a big celebrity now." - Molly, holding up one of Cabal's wanted posters
"Again?"
He paused to scrutinize the flyer, and pursed his lips in distaste. Not even a decent reward-- no wonder the constables hardly broke into a run when chasing him.
"One would think they could afford an actual artist. Who drew that, a fourth former? The nose is all wrong."
"You are too generous to trifle with me." Darcy -> Johannes, but like fairytale au
"I do not know that generous has ever been used to describe me." He rumbles, not quite a growl hiding in his throat-- and not at all because he was irritated. Rather, it was an effort to control his baser instincts, and he was concentrating on suppressing his fang-reflex. Amoral, wicked, dishonest, dastardly, the list of invectives went on and on. Generous? That was novel.
Her throat looked almost too good, draped now in strands of glittering garnet beads. Perhaps he should add lustful to his list of sins. But perhaps the stones were the reason she felt him so kind-- nothing more than trinkets stolen from his earlier meal. His pale fingers fastened the clasp, and brushed along the curves of her shoulders, his gaze upon her face in the mirror before them. His hands came to land upon her hips, and he leaned down to kiss her shoulder.
"They suit you. Do you like them?"