#cryptidsncurios

Hunting down ghosts is a lonely business.

All of these years and he still sees the faces clear and plain- of the people who tore him open, of the people who filmed it, of the people who fed him or failed to do so. Some of them he's decimated himself, with extreme prejudice. A cheese grater, once. Creativity's a bane, and the only cure is to bleed it out. Just so happens that usually means someone else needs to do the bleeding.

There's one he's never managed to get a solid lead on, though. Stevens. First name, Jake. He only knew the surname during captivity, and all of his hard work after dug up the first and the suggestion the guy might be dead, or possibly have fled the country. And what then? How can he put his ghosts to rest when one of them croaked without his intervention? When one of them feels out of reach?

Then the photograph. CCTV camera, New York City. Jake fucking Stevens, alive, aging, walking tall and unharmed.

Time to go to war...but not alone.

---

"So," Mox says, leaning one hip against the bar, massive body turned to face Xig fully. "I can't guarantee he's even in the city, still. I don't know where else he might have gone. All I've got's that video file, the IP of the camera, whatever that is," that last bit mumbled, "and a full listing of the businesses in the area. I just...don't know where to start. And I need this, man. I need this. I need to end it."

"I understand the strategic value and amusement of these political games, but I do miss the outright conquering that comes with brute power." The witch lamented slightly as she loosened his tie, tossing it aside in favor of another. She began tying it into place, trying to determine which suited this evening's charity event.

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐎 perfectly ; remains of the fallen at his feet . though humanity touched the other , the mind of the mortal was anything but that of a common soul . [ there was something wicked in there , an old familiar calling . ] the vampire stands over a corpse , pondering if he should make himself known , or allow the silence to speak between them .

send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character.

If he doesn't take that suit off soon, I'm shredding it with my claws.

Fuck, he looks hot with my blood splashed all over his face.

He thinks he's in control killing me so easily and trying to order me around? He only has me where he wants me because I'm letting him.

Has he ever skull fucked a man before? I'll tell him how it's done.

Let's see what he can do against my ultimate shield.

I want to bite him hard enough that everyone sees my claim on his neck. I want to draw blood.

Tear me to pieces and blow me apart. I want to see the cold, satisfied ecstasy in his eyes while he destroys my body and watches it piece itself back together.

@cryptidsncurios 'bang!' [[ I’m sorry but this is just how Xigbar says hello sometimes :| ]]

Send 'bang!' To witness my muse being shot

"You fool!" Maleficent yelled, holding her shoulder, where she had been shot. Thankfully, since it wasn't iron, she was starting to heal again. But that didn't mean she wasn't angry.

― “ Don't  talk  like  that  again. ”       what  maddening  commentary  enters  his  ears  ;  disgustingly  macabre  and  bloody  infuriating  to  the  senses.  the voice of the colonel heightening to dangerous low levels. to  think,  this  had  once  been  a  man  he  could  have  been  proud  to  know  —   “  I  don't  have  time  to  talk  about  your  sick  fantasies,  Kimbly.  ”

murdoc vc: good song, innit?

@cryptidsncurios

What a peculiar mortal... or rather, something else.

Watching a gory demise with the same nonchalance one would an actor in a theater. Make-believe blood, the gnashing of teeth as though a show meant to entertain children. But this was no such thing. Death scented the air now, and the silence hung heavy with pleas unanswered.

And so, the one-eyed gunslinger's own words remained seemingly just as unacknowledged.

Click. Clack. A snip-snap of jaws.

The hounds, slender constructs of flesh and metal, continued their advance. Sword-tails and gun-mouths, two of each variety. Spreading out in wide arcs to encircle their prey.

And yet, their gait seemed to slow, as though uncertain of their violence. Weighing their options, weighing his words? Did they even understand speech? Or, rather... were they their own creatures, or perhaps puppets, moved by the shadowed mage's phantom strings?

An extension of the summoner, acting on his behalf. He heard the words, he simply chose not to answer. But the hounds stalled their assault nonetheless. An opportunity to make peace..? To offer further explanation? Time was ticking, and the dark Wind did not feel particularly gracious.

He still did not get what he came here for, after all. The hunt had been far too easy... a high value target was who he was after. A gunman with a hollow heart.

The rumors were certainly proven true. A crafty spark in his eye, an a callous indifference. There was danger in that man and a sly intelligence and the Hunter was not about to dismiss his Espers and risk disarming himself against a potential foe. His intel was scarcely wrong.

"......" The gunmage's silence rang out as though a sound in its own right.

Was his inaction really a grace given to the other, when the beasts were already taking position behind his back? Would they not simply pounce and seize his throat mid-speech?

It seemed that the entire situation had become quite the gamble.