#decaeys

it is in their nature to rebel. push the limits in their own little ways, bare their teeth when cornered; too much like the wolves that stalked the roads, they’ve heard, but the townsfolk might give their first laugh. not so bold, an inner voice says. beasts and monsters and this is what breaks you down?

the contact is fleeting. eyes meet for a single breath, and then they pass. arm, shoulder, top of the head and then, finally, a point beyond alejandro becomes the focus of florence’s fascination. 

questions for the mun!

she stares at the etwhal lying on the floor by her feet. it called to her; it knew the melodies she needed to play to connect to the very fibers of someone's body, to extract the chemicals from their brains to feel and to think and to hurt. but she remains as still as she'd been before, closing her eyes, turning her head, refusing to look at him.

a little something for @decaeys ( alejandro )

〞The fuck're you gawking at, Morticia Addams? 〞No way in hell this bitch was gonna trot into her bar, have that kind of attitude and just get by. The redhead didn't even have to bare her fangs to show her teeth, that voice had enough bite without em'. Nostrils flared at the distinct scent of a kindred, Brujah fire flooding her thoughts with all kinds of deductions based on that alone.

@decaeys played: i never fail to never learn from mistakes. ( laura to chishiya )

𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘: THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND STARTERS

CAT-LIKE EYES SLIDE TOWARDS HER, his head tilted to the side as he studies her like her words have handed him a scalpel to dissect layers. In a way, such words are exactly that. A self-created surgery, a baring. Whether they are TRUE or not, Chishiya isn't positive yet. He observes like a cat perched high on a telephone pole ; able to see without being reached in kind. Metaphorically.

" That's usually a card people prefer to keep close to their chest. " He remarks, a hint of amusement behind his otherwise empty-seeming eyes. SHE REMINDS HIM OF A HIGHLIGHTER IN ALL THAT PINK. Specifically those ones that some students back in his classes or clinical rotations would use to try to draw attention to key aspects - only for it all to become muddled because there was too much highlighter on the page. It fits rather well with her own statement. They also never seemed to learn from their mistakes.

Nor do the honest and the trusting ever seem to learn either. It never fails to make a bitter taste form on Chishiya's tongue at the thought.

Chishiya leans back against the chair he's sat in, hands buried in his jacket. There's something a little too sharp in his gaze, tucked under the apathy and under the wisp of interest that encourages him to entertain this. " Although if that's the case, then it seems more akin to an addiction, don't you think? Same mistakes, same song and dance. At some point, mistakes are no longer mistakes but choices. Even though a lot of people like to continue to label them as mistakes to try to DOWNPLAY THE RESPONSIBILITY of it all. The farmer likes to blame the wolf for the dead sheep rather than his alcohol-induced forgetfulness. "

A sigh that escapes thin lips, emotions that bubble in her chest as her vision waivers. Weakness -- to display such a sight, as fingers clench for but a brief second around Akali's throat, itching to convey her control. Eyebrows eventually furrow, deep in contemplation before she relents.

It is her thumb that sways, a gentle caress along the front of the woman's neck. A claw that scratches, ever so teasing against unmarked skin -- tempting, and asking for Evelynn to leave her mark. Frost melts, a warmth beginning to burn in her gaze as she clicks her tongue.

"I can do much more than that," is as much a gloat as a promise. Evelynn grants a smile that meets her eyes, held back only with wavering restraint as she desires to pounce. Up her thumb goes, rising along her chin and onto soft lips, lifting Akali's jaw in the process. "Oh honey, I could easily make you mine."

Yet she relents, all with a light hum as she steps away despite the fleeting feeling that remains. Her stare remains fixated masked only by her sunglasses, as their director walks back onto set, hands clapping and requesting their upmost attention.

always accepting prompts !

— @decaeys

There seems to be more curiosity than attempt to harm, in the ionian's brush of fingers upon her face; Katarina doesn't wait to find out. Akali's hand is pushed away forcefully, and the noxian dashes away to a comfortable distance. Closeness is a privilege she's unwilling to extend to most — and she certainly doesn't feel compelled to indulge it with someone she barely knows, much less when the other woman seems intrigued by that particular mark upon her face.

It's not recent story, but she never gets to forget. One of her most recognizable features, but one heavily tied to her failure. Without it, she wouldn't have learned some of the most important lessons she face; but Akali earned neither the tale nor the contact.

Sadness, he knew, was the expected response in such a circumstance. But he could not bring himself to feel it. Instead, a cold anger simmered within him, fueled by the sight of the Scions' wilful ignorance and the helpless, futile sacrifice that had led to this tragic end. 

"Get the bloody up, you rotting sod. I told you she was going to die. I told you specifically in that tunnel and you believed me not! What can you save? Nothing. You can save nothing with your hands."