#devilborn

     “So, is the whole hellboy title a thing you made up, or just took in stride?”

Her attention is focused to the decent gash to his arm, hands steady as she continues her suture.

 ‘   do  you  realize  what  will  happen  once  you’ve  eradicated  us?  HUNTED  us  down  to  the  brink  of  extinction ?   ’    the  faerie  prince  did  not  break  in  his  stance,  though  silverlance  was  left  without  its  usual  ELONGATION.      ‘   when  you  and  your  kindred  are  the  only  ones  left,  who  will  stop  them  from  HUNTING  YOU ?   ’

                                   ❝  Holy shit-- ❞

❝ I know it's impolite to stare but I don't know what else to do right now. ❞

silent hill 2 remake starters !

Gia's eyes flick up and down, trying to get a read on him. His appearance was certainly interesting, but when have things not been? Painted lips are pressed together into an unsure thin line, lithe fingers are laced together in what looks to be an attempt at patience. She inhales before speaking: "You're unsure if you're crazy? Sounds about right."

She clears her throat.

the penguin sentence starters | still accepting.

Gotham's skies are a roiling sea of smog; Mary tips her head back to squint at the smeared neon skyline, and when she exhales, long and slow, her breath is half mist, half smoke. Cold. Prickling at the corners of her eyes, biting at her fingertips past the little warm glow of the cigarette between her middle and ring finger.

"I always wonder what people mean when they ask things like that," she says finally, brow creasing. "Whether they want something realistic, or something more..." A little shrug. "Existential, I guess. You know, when a therapist asks something like that, they don't want a real answer. They just want to make you think about yourself."

She examines the end of the cigarette in the dim light, gauging how much of it is left.

evil sentence starters | still accepting.

Mary didn't answer immediately. Her gaze flicked once — a quick, darting movement — between the shattered plate glass window of the restaurant, the now-empty dining hall, and the man in front of her.

All abandoned chairs, sharp objects and curtains that fluttered like loose gauze. And Mary Dahl, backed into a corner, her hands still lifted partway as they had been when the colossal crash had first rung out.

She swallowed. Straightened up. Set her jaw.