@aeinsof inquired – [mh v carmen. hiiieeee]

"forgive me if this is rude, but i've been wondering. how do you aim your bow?"

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫, finding its place on its grip instinctively. She means no harm, but Nu Udra mass squirming within his infrastructure tells him to remain cautious.

" My Palico and Seikret help me aim. " The grit in his voice comes stern. " That... and I can smell their wounds. " A new ability that begrudgingly came with becoming blind. There are certain hunts he'll avoid with utmost certainty now, but at least he can smell the blood seeping from their...

His breath hitches. Xavier's body stills as his sightless gaze stares into nothingness.

A few heartbeats later, life breaths back into him. " ...Any other questions? " He says gruffly, and begins to tune his weapon.

UGH --- BLECH! This one even sounded like Twilight Sparkle!

Disgusting. The cretin was lucky he was human, otherwise she wouldn't so much as send a drone to feed off him (let alone herself).

If she had drones, that is. The thought sparked something red-hot in her thorax, and when she spoke it billowed out on the embers of a furious hiss.

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰. An aura of confusion comes to pass, but it's a slight annoyance that remains in its wake. Why does such a phrase fester old memories– memories that are still locked behind the shroud of partialism.

Much of it he can recall. Balduran's willful and arrogant personality will forever be woven into the fibers of his being. That much he doesn't mind. It's what he still can't pick apart without manifesting a headache that he can't stand.

So he'll need to reflect later on this sentiment.

He swirls his almost empty cup of wine. The soft hum of the Astral Plane weaving a thread of contemplation between them. Perhaps...

" No. " The illithid dumps his remaining wine over the leech's head. He will not entertain such possibilities.

scrubbing all up by your lonesome?? thats pathetic

BIG   ,   LONG   GORE   /   HORROR   PROMPT   MEME   —   send  🩸 for a randomly generated gory prompt OR pick a number for a prompt. [accepting] [x]

result: 026   ...    vessel

The stranger to the Lost Woods had not picked a good time to stumble across its guardian.

The acrid stench hit first—iron and wet fur, sweat and blood mingled into something thick and sharp. Her hands—no, not hands—clawed at her own arms as sinew and muscle twisted beneath the skin. Bones cracked in protest, snapping, reshaping themselves into something taller, sharper, more feral.

Her vision warped. Colors bled and pulsed like living things, the blood-red and shadow-black of the fallen yokai twisting with the forest’s muted green into an impossible swirl. The moonlight, pale and cold, refracted across her new fur, brown as bracken and wild, moving over muscles that she didn’t fully recognize as hers. She stumbled, her balance gone.

The sound of her own voice growling and crying in pain—or what used to be her voice—made her stomach twist. Deep, guttural, and endless. Each step she took left prints that weren’t hers in the soft soil, her claws digging into earth that smelled faintly of rot and smoke. The hairs on her back bristled and twitched involuntarily, ears elongating, tail lashing, senses screaming at her—smells, sounds, every heartbeat in the Woods now a scream.

Her own scream tore itself free from her throat, echoing across the darkened trees like a hunting trumpet. The air vibrated with it, the taste metallic on her tongue. And somewhere in the shadows, the last remnants of her human self—eyes wide, terrified—watched as her hands became claws, her jaw elongated, her teeth shearing the night air.

A low growl rumbled in her chest, and Robin realized the truth of it: she was not the wolf. She was merely a vessel for the beast.

The curse of the Kobayashi Clan.