#barrowhill

@barrowhill​ @brokentoys​

As  it  should  be  ;  the  colour[s]  that  radiated  off  him  were  always  REPULSIVE.  Rancid  ,  vibrant   ; absolutely  delicious.  One  figures  people  like  her  could  foresee  them.  Not  the  normals  ,  no.  How  delighted  he’d  be  ;  to  hear  it  made  her  SICK  ;  if  only  it  were  so  PROPER  to  stare.  Smelled  ?  that  contributed  SOMETHING  ;  death  ,  blood  &  all  the  little  bits  of  human  life  he  took  as  tokens  ; sticking  to  him  like  a  disease  ,  radiance  emitted  itself  in  slow  ,  but  overtaking  intervals.  All  until  ;  as  he’s  usually  sure  of  ;  someone  would  LEAVE.  Guts  , glory  &  my  , don’t  offer  flattery  !  he’d  love  it  more  if  she  had  a  sense  to  be  AWARE.  Little  known  that  it  mattered  a  lot  more  to  him  then  ;   it  really  should.  Jonathan  did  enjoy  a  JOKE  now  &  then  ; perhaps  her  TYPE  did  not  hit  that  funny  bone  everyone  surely  had.  His  was  more  dark  ,  dirty  lined  ;  disgusting  – only  so  few  evoked  that  from  this  lips.  Or  ,  could  he  say  the  rarity  someone  spoke  it  first.  But  ,  none  of  that  mattered  ,  either.  Truth  here  she  was  IRRITATING  him ,  fairness  to  do  the  same  back.  Who  would  they  be  without  a  little  PUSH   ?  a  self  found  in equality  with  everyone  who  stood  before  him  ;   𝐀𝐋𝐋  , 𝐎𝐅  𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄  𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑  𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇.  THAT ,  ASSUMPTION  would  have  made  him  LAUGH.  Not  because  she’s  a  woman  ; isn’t  that  what  she  means  ? — in  some  way  he  thought  her  [  an  ]  IDIOT  ,  BUT  THAT  WASN’T  THE  REASON  HE  SPOKE  THE  WAY  HE  DID.  Intimidation  , only.  NO  sense  in  trying  to  explain  ,  let’s  move  on  with  the  chase  !  something  similar  had  set  his  in  motion  ;  the  day  he  declared  himself  KING.  Each  to  their  own  empire  ; he  supposed.  Head  cants  ,  eyes  flick  ;  in  silence  ,  a  hand  meets  his  chest  ; centerfold  in  his  dramatics.  WASN’T  HE  SUCH  A  DOUR  ?   &  soon  enough  stirred  his  brain  for  something  ,  like  food  to  offer.   ❝  My ,  my  … when  was  the  last  time  someone  had  addressed  us  with  SUCH  a  namesake.  We  do  not  find  it  quite  appeasing.  But  , some  still haven’t  caught  up  with  the  memo…  an  odd set  of  memories  we  wish  to  continually  keep  dead.  It  is  why  we  took  upon  the  [  𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐍  ]  of  HORSEMAN.  we  only  follow  one  road  ;  one  that  takes  us  home.  OR  , better  yet …  farther  away  from  any  of  you.   ❞

"aw... c'mon now, ichabod. don't be like that." a tattooed hand to her chest as though he's wounded her physically (a sentiment which might well appeal to the man). "yer hurting my feelings." she says, eyes intense, her frown a brilliant vermillion. he only holds her attention for the briefest of moments, then she's back to studying the room. everything she can see says something to her, something about jonathan that perhaps her experiences with him had not yet conveyed. what did it say about him, for example, that his home was essentially a very large mausoleum? probably that neither one of them could be exaggerated in caricature-- they were both too extra for that.

she knows better than to touch anything here, that's for sure. apart from necrotizing fasciitis, there was the smell to consider. wouldn't want to get that bleachy formaldehyde fragrance in her own home. still, her gait is comfortable as she walks, her exploration slow and deliberate. maybe she'd ask him for a taxidermized BAT for christmas this year. that seemed like something right up his alley. speaking of which-- "yannow, i always thought that me and you (all of you)," this said with a gesticulated flourish, "... we'd be great friends."

her gaze is nearly predatory in its intensity. she's watching him now like he is the angel on the head of a pin. did the horseman even have any friends? not that joker even really understood the meaning of the word. "i tell ya what, jonny, i'd LOVE to have ya down at feste fer some fun. i think-- i think ya'd REALLY have a good time." not that she thought he was the clubgoing type. did a dead man dance? maybe if they played some depeche mode.

a little cackle escapes pouty pink lips as he says this,the cackles turn into short lived giggles,dimples are out on display and she gives him pearly whites,''wouldn't it be funny if one day technology had enough of our shit and just like,took over the whole world?''she's a little stoned,forgive her attempts at jokes and dark humor,the vision of the statement in full swing in her clouded noggin. she giggles once more,having to stifle the giggles to prevent maniacal laughter.

''i think if you obey it,you'll be saved from damnation from that scenario.''

Send 📚 and be recommended a book (or a few) that Shiloh thinks your muse will enjoy!

It comes to her instantly and she actually almost doesn't want to recommend it in case he gets ideas. But...

"The Market of Monsters series, by Rebecca Schaeffer. The first book is called 'Not Even Bones'. It's incredibly dark, but also very interesting.