#foreverfated

ㅤWhen Itachi had brought in the book to be mended by hands that were as skilled in this craft as they drew joy from such actions — an antique astronomy tome that was clearly outdate by current scientific standards but that contained fantastic illustrations of the skies above that should not be wasted — he'd not entirely expected the conversation to eventually reach this point. Yet here they were, now. Sharing impressions on a topic that, by rights, should be a heavy one on anybody's shoulders but that, to the two of them, seemed more like just another tuesday.

«Mhmm.»

ㅤThe first response was non-committal, might even be called dismissive. His elbow resting on the surface of the small work table nearby and his chin plopped on that palm, as onyx-dark eyes watched the older man's meticulous work over those worn-out pages. It was very far from it, however, and he hoped Lazarus would be aware of it by now. That Itachi himself was never one to rush to talk, only for the sake of offering something shallow and of no meaning. Taking a few further seconds to roll the previous sentence around in his mind, looking for words that would convey empathy without making it sound like pity, he eventually settled on something as simple as sincerity. Self-experience, if you will.

The stain of Dracula's taint hung like an oppressive gloom over Wallachia, a pervasive darkness like storm clouds that never dissipated, however sunny the skies had become since his death. Sandals crunched the debris-ridden underbrush, the pine trees forming a natural tunnel while the sunset blazed like a cauldron through the needly canopy. Summer was beginning to turn away, and autumn itself roused gently from its sleep with each night that grew a little chillier, successive dawns rising a little mistier than the one before.

Villagers had informed the wizard of a dark, brooding presence taking residence in the castle that overlooked them from the high bluffs like a glowering gargoyle. Sypha strode with purpose, a murderousness coloring the Mystic Warlord's every step. Judgment was coming, and they didn't doubt the immortal who'd taken residence would know this, too.

Send "PINNED" for your muse to pin mine against a wall. // @foreverfated

Kagura was snarling as the taller male pinned her to the wall after they had been in a heated argument about whose prey it was that was lying a few feet away. Her stomach growled as she snapped her fangs, “Careful, or I might consider making you my meal instead.” It would not be the first time she had consumed other demons, as she lived for centuries, and sometimes eating humans had gotten old. It was not often, but usual if she was desperate or wanted a change in flavor for her monthly meal.

Stater for @foreverfated

The sun was coming up in a couple of minutes as the demoness was flying overhead searching for any shelter, before she noticed a large structure that looked old. Maybe it was a fortress or a feudal lord's castle, but it did not matter as she decided to retreat there from the daylight until nightfall. Kagura landed on the ground as she carefully navigated through the entrance, pushing the door and shutting it behind her as she stepped inside the older building. She was not expecting it to be in decent condition, as it was almost as if someone else lived here.

The scent quickly hit her nose the further she went into the building, a scent of a demon, so she was in someone’s territory. Humming softly, she called out, “Hello, is anyone here?” The tiny demoness was on guard, as she did not want to be caught off guard if the demon was foolish enough to try to ambush the older demon.

@foreverfated, unprompted.

she had sensed his presence for some time now, to be truthful, so it came as no surprise when demonic aura encroaches and becomes so deathly thick that the average human would surely keel over and succumb to beastly hunger . . . but ah, how lucky for him, that fushikuro saya is far from the average mortal and from the very moment the creature approaches, to when he speaks, she stands her ground in the very same fashion a predator would when face-to-face with another: unwavering, never faltering, and with a slow, gentle curl of her fingers so that concealed claws may unfurl just slightly to show that saya, too, is capable of bloodshed. a warning, albeit of silent kind.

send “you’re a monster” for my muses reaction. / accepting!

"and you aren't?" came the immediate response, as akaza straightened himself up, "are we not made of the same ilk? the same surge of power, granting us new life—?"

"are you ungrateful?" comes the next question, as he stepped up to the other. akaza was so small, and get the energy that surged around him — condensed into one, singular being. he looks up to the other, unblinking.

"i don't have time for people who forsake such a gift of strength," voice sounds like claws and swords and all sharp things, "either you accept yourself as a monster…"

nonverbal prompts. / accepting!

and since his fight with upper three — kyōjurō was faced with something he'd never had to swallow before; hesitation. suddenly confronted with the notion of being careful, of being gentle with himself — when a demon came along his path,

he had to fight himself. he wanted nothing more than to slice off the demon's head — but was he strong enough?

was he strong enough…?

but even so, the ex-hashira wears a brave face, "i won't let you go any farther."

“ doctor. ”

it's a quick answer, almost like he feels like he has to cover his ass, like he's hiding something, like it's a just a cover story. but it's not this time. it's real. i'm a doctor, really, i swear -

“ a cleric, traditionally, but i can perform magical and physical operations and analysis. i learned from - ” the cult. “ - my family ... my parents. ” he changes the subject fast.

“ why? do you need help? ”