#artificialsunlight

artificial-sunlight replied to your post

[ … I can talk…? -can get on Skype- … Or maybe I can throw myOC at Oz, if you want. -still setting the blog up and making icons though cough..- ]

It's fine, Jeune~

You don't have to if you don't want~

I'm just... blah.

♦+ Footsteps crossed the hearing range of an albino man who sat in a rather odd position upon the velvety surface of an armchair. Peculiar of someone to be of his age most certainly, and yet he seemed too preoccupied in whatever activity played out before him. Blood red orbs shifting back forth along the reaches of parchment bound together tightly into a book, old and yet new it appeared with a fresh scent lingering upon the very pages.

Within the other hand a silver utensil found its way between the man's lips. "Mmm.." The sound exited his body right before glancing those deep hues up at the beings before him. Shock formed up within his look, chewing the food within his mouth.

Guests...? How odd! Perhaps they're here to join the Baskervilles! The Abyss must have called to them, right? They must be chosen!

Finally he popped the fork out from between his teeth with a smile growing along his lips: delight. "Ah--!! Welcome to the Baskerville mansion! Are you new recruits? I'm sure brother will be most pleased to hear others are joining!" Tilt of his head to the side, eyelids closed over his eyes at the bright smile. "It's so nice to have more people come!"

artificial-sunlight replied to your post: ||ooc

[ ooc; ; A ; jkjhfgfad SOBBING. Soyousendmesomethingthatisgoingtobustoutofmyclosetwithahatchetinthemiddleofthenight— WELL, I LOVE YOU TOO. ;;; ]

Aha~! 

Oh, that's just the love of us Oz's, dear~

A dank, musty smell filled the air. Crackle and flickering of the torches barely lit the dim tunnel. Footsteps echoed off the walls, traveling down the length of the narrow passageway as if in warning. Cold calculating black eyes darted along the path, glancing to the side as another bared cell door pass by. A mental count flashing through his mind: twelve, thirteen, fourteen…fifteen.

Lips curled at the edge twisting into a cruel smirk. A nod gestured, and another pair of hands opened the door—the loud eerie creak slicing through the dark space. The grinning figure strode smoothly into the tiny cell, a torch in hand. Examining from left to right, he saw a dirty rat scurry to a corner in fear, decaying cobblestone, and finally a shadow painted to the far wall. Only taking a few steps forward did the light manage to clear the shadow revealing it to what it actually was: a boy shackled by the wrists above his head while his body slump atop the ground, with his head bowed down in defeat. All that could be seen of that head was a messy tussle of sullied blonde hair, the face obscured in the darkness. His ripped clothes hanging loosely around the slender frame, his body covered in scratches and bruises. The young boy looked broken—almost dead. But he wasn’t yet—not until he said he could be.