#cryptogenia

x3. me for one night

Blood rushed through her so fast, the throb of her pulse was almost painful. She was panting heavily and there was a thin layer of sweat coating her skin. She grit her teeth and groaned, bringing up her hands to close her eyes and rub the heels of her palms against them. Vartouhi was exhausted. It was getting harder and harder to stay in the same upset mindset. At first she’d been crying, sad and mournful. But eventually the mental blocking kicked in, and she couldn’t feel the emotion that went with the memories and thoughts anymore. So she’d turned to anger. It worked, but it was much more difficult to control than sadness.

Her eyes took in the destroyed turf, overturned boulders, and fallen trees. She was running out of things to use her powers on. How was she ever going to work through every emotion, at this rate? She found she had an endless supply of rage. It was easy enough to call upon; all she had to do was think of Maurus, and she would get worked up in minutes as she thought of how he ruined her life.

xkyanite: an anger headcanon

        Sleeves rolled up, he steps down and out from the back door of the establishment into the alleyway it opens into, hissing air between his teeth at the sight of the blood already drying near his cuticles, crusting under his nails. The door to the funeral home is wide open, white light spilling out through the frame of it, and he stares at the contrast of his shadow cut against the ground.

        Tonight, it’s some low life dealer that some guy with a briefcase full of money needed turned to ash. There’s still work to be done inside, the bulk of the cleaning still, some scrubbing, but he takes this time to rid himself of the awful smell of burnt hair -- the cysteine making it so foul an odor. It’s even worse than the smell of formaldehyde and methanol that he uses to preserve regular bodies. But the later doesn’t pay nearly as well as the former, and in the end that’s his motivation : money. He’s driven by his greed and needy for luxury.

send me ┼ for my muse’s reaction to walking in on your muse:↪ 2: covered in blood.status: accepting!

She’s always been told since she was a little girl that danger lurked in the night. That darkness was a bad thing, that it was scary - that if you left your home at night, you wouldn’t make it back safely. But Nana never believed any of that, in fact she found solace in the dark. It was calm, it was quiet. When the city slept, she was awake.

She’s used to being awake at all odd hours. Two in the morning, four in the morning. As a doctor, sleep was a luxury. She rarely took it for granted, though tonight she was restless, and there was no better cure for insomnia than a stroll through the city. So that’s exactly what’s led her to walking the streets, with a lightweight jacket on to keep her warm, hands shoved deep in the pockets.

There’s not many people out. Some groups of people crawling from bars, drunk and laughing, then the others that were like her. She didn’t concern herself with anyone, and she wasn’t impressed by the amount of people out so she decided to take a turn down a side street, dimly lit by a single streetlight at the opposite end.

She doesn’t feel any fear until she realizes that she’s not alone in that alleyway. She can see the silhouette of a person, walking towards her with a hood over their head. For only a moment did she consider turning and walking away, but then she laughed at herself over the idea -- this was just another person like her, out at night, wandering with no destination in mind.

But as they cross paths, her nostrils tickle, filled with the overwhelming smell of iron. Blood. She stops and turns her body towards the person - a male, she can tell by his height and his build, features shadowed by the lack of substantial lighting, but she can see on his clothes that there’s blood splatters here and there, and it looks - and smells, fresh.

“Excuse me?” she asks meekly, hoping to garner his attention. She felt her heart racing in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Judging by how he walked with no difficulty at all, he wasn’t injured. Which meant, that probably wasn’t his blood.

She gulped. She wanted to turn and run, but she was rooted to the ground, fear showing in her almond brown eyes as she looked up at the man who towered over her in height.