#altarbled

Gods dreamed just as mortals did, though their dreams were more complex, more dangerous, && were oftentimes an easy way to communicate by beings like Lovecraft. Marceline was no god, no Enochian, yet her dreams were like that of Lovecraft's peers, though they felt manufactured in a way, like they were not her own, but thrust upon her as he walked among pews && glistening stained glass.

Why he had reached out to her then && why he had continued to reach out, to find her among fire && brimstone, he could not understand. When they'd agreed to meet, Lovecraft almost regretted it. He'd have to leave the comfort of the sea, the comfort of his nest underneath Yokohama's waters, but something terrible, something unrecognizable still pulled him from the Sea of Japan to the Bay of Biscay.

He'd arrived just days before the pair had agreed to meet, anxiety crawling along his skin as the employee of the perfume shop eyed him as he pressed his face to the glass, trying to figure out what gift was appropriate. Whatever humans smelled, was not what he smelled, so smelling any of the perfumes would be useless in his case, so he opted for the most expensive. He had little understanding of currency, but a few thousand dollars meant it had to be good && he at least recognized the brand Chanel.

Her presence was what pulled him to the mall close by, where she sat in a leisure area, away from the crowds of other people. Not the ideal way to meet, Lovecraft's skin already itched just seeing the throngs of people walking between the stores. Constant apathy && fatigue aside, Lovecraft could not resist the instinctual need to seek out his kin, which he had been sure Marceline was very much not, but now...

“ I was asked to bring this to you.” She speaks, in her hands a small mesh top that Marceline was, quite frankly, surprised would fit the man.

“ I’ve been helping out lately so … the stage people said this was yours? “

✧･ﾟ───────────────

Abby's head tilts at the appearance of the woman now standing in the opening of the dressing room. She was unfamiliar. Ah. New. That was why he didn't recognize her. A signature smile graced his lips as he rose from his seat in front of the mirror. Adorned in his low-rise black jeans and an opened robe (because truly why would he close it? Modesty was never one of his strong suits).

"Ah. Thanks. I was wondering where that went to. I thought someone had taken it to repair one of the seams that ripped during the last performance." he says graciously, looking her over once more before reaching out to take. "Would you mind giving me a hand with it. It's pretty delicate." He asks watching for even the slightest shift in her expression.  

❛ ⸻ she  stills  at  the  sight  of  katana,   attention  snapping  to  the  woman  now  blocking  path.     sovereign  doesn’t  step  back,   only  shifts  her  weight, and  posture,  alert.     the  stranger’s  stance  seemed  controlled  and  deliberate,   leaving  peach  uncertain  whether  she’s  facing  a  friend  or  foe. ❝     ...was  there  something  you   needed  ?     ❞

@altarbled » ♡

closed starter for . . . @altarbled

𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙄𝙎 𝙒𝙍𝙊𝙉𝙂. although it could be felix's paranoia just as easily. scurrying across the wood floor the creature stands on his tippy toes, peeking outside the broken window. a figure stands a few yards from the church, as if they're sizing it up. he frowns, fingers gripping the window sill. who are they and what do they want ? that's always the question. usually it was just some rowdy teenagers who were dared to infiltrate the church by their idiot friends. but the figure simply . . . looms. and somehow it's worse than a stupid child throwing rocks. felix takes a breath before sinking back to the floor. he's tired of hiding . . . of running from those who won't leave him be.

making their way to he broken door he sticks out his head, gaze narrowed at the stranger. ❛ w - what do you want ? if you don't need help than . . . please l - leave !! ❜

they were tip toeing around each other , like a dance. each step intentional and deliberate in it's performance to portray a nonchalance to maintain control. the art of gaslighting one another into believing the other cared more in a festering toxicity to which neither cared to relent.

“ i do , because you haven't said a single word to me since that night. ” the yakuza challenged , with no less confidence than usual. his hands moving to settle on his hips were the only tell of his frustration as he forcibly wove conceit into his words. “ you're only hurting yourself , you know ? ” and slowly , like a rising tide the manipulation settled in. “ i know you want to give in and i know you spend your nights laying awake , wishing i was there. so do yourself a favour , stop being childish and let it go. ”

@altarbled \ avgins of the galaxy

( 🪶 )   WELL WELL WELL   ..   easy enough.   she'd been hoping that her chips would be enough of a temptation to be snagged and it appeared it was a success.

    ❝    AN' MISS ON   helping out a   pretty lady   ?   wouldn't miss it for the world.   doesn't matter   what   you need   ,   promise you that   ----   shooting a bullet like 'ol boots did or not.   ❞   her lone eye spoke of her mirth and amusement of being    questioned   ---   though she didn't mind it one bit.   she expected it   (   the other ranger's suspicion in her is   understandable   ;   she'd be the same in her shoes   ).

THE MENTION OF   old times   does cause her brow to   raise   ,   the muzzle of her gun moving to tip her hat further up her forehead.    ❝   SURE.   MIGHT BE   a bit fuzzy but i wouldn't be   ..   against   talking about back then.   ❞ 

     ❝     have you ever considered it?     ❞     they don’t finish the inquiry in its totality,     though they both know what exactly such a question entails:     does she miss it?     miss what had once been,     when she’d been a prisoner of an ideology herself.     would she be happy,     with him,     if he’d somehow convinced her to join?     he wonders.     (     brows knit together whilst they read o’er the piece of paper within their grasp:     another falsified headline——     something or another about following the lead of some notorious cult     /     it makes him scoff,     they’ve never been further off base than they are now.     )     ❝     it doesn’t seem too bad,     i think a lot of the bad things we hear about it is purely sensationalized by the media.     i’ve considered it myself.     joining,     i mean.     ❞      //    @altarbled.