#crawleymade

                                 ‘ -- We’ll call ourselves                                                                       THE ROOKS. ‘ 

The most interesting of ordeals always seemed to occur in the dead of night. Far be it from he to find fright in these times, none from the calling rook, nor the rolling thunder that so often swept through London. Eyes peer over investment after investment, lips pressed into a thin, almost worried line. So many numbers, so many risks to take into account. As of late, the owners associates, their businesses had been thwarted by what he only hears as whispers of assassins.  He had brushed the notion off- for the order was ancient, ought to have died by now- and simply attributed the recent accidents to an irresponsibility on the part of the managers. 

       Throat clears, stool pulled to desk as quill immediately takes to parchment, a sighed hum rolling        with exhaled breath. At times like this, he found solace in the silence, allowing his thoughts to wander        so freely. Again, he was finding himself at the beginnings of hunger, so generous employer hardly wanting        to supply sustenance ( he must keep appearances, no one must know of this foul engagement ) and he        had been far too occupied to set time aside to forage- especially when so few were willing to deal with        a man rumored to be a devil. 

 Bell of entrance cries out, door shutting harshly back into frame. Eyes barely lift, fingers  twitching as pause is given. What ever is a visitor doing here at this hour?

    “ We are closed, please try again in the morning.”  Tone is monotonous, as if a     scripted verse, hearsed and rehearsed came automatic. Lashes flutter against     paled skin, dark hues only flickering up when blade comes to sit, rest, at throat. 

a baffle patch mix of amusement & chagrin settles upon her gaze, an action that deepens her frown. she knows his kind. assassin, they whisper. enemies of their order. a rebel with no concrete plan other than their petty liberation. peace cannot result from chaos. it is the manifestation of its cruelty do humans , we , suffer from its consequence. ❛ your the assassin that’s been interfering with our plans ❜

__________✦        ❛  &&  what do you find so   INTERESTING   as to gawk  ??    it is rather   unbecoming   in most cultures,    you know.     though,    you don’t like you’re from around   HERE.     ❜

bc lmao i told u i wanted two…

What happened??

I overreacted to an anon who sent something in to me. basically saying along the lines of " i thought you were kind of interesting until i saw you ship pearl attaway and jacob frye, lmao bye with your delusional ship. " and at first i was mad, that someone wanted to say shit to me because OCCASIONALLY i did ship them, not all the time but sometimes. i had discussed in a previous post, it's on and off. that sometimes i portray jacob seeing maxwell roth and pearl attaway as father / mother like figures 95% of the time. but to get something as petty as someone saying their opinion about me set me off for some odd reason. it might have been that i was having a shit day to begin with. but i brought it out of proportion, people backed me up on it.

sounds about right tbqh