#gloryseized

curious anons! / always accepting

"How could I think such a thing?"

" how could you, indeed. " Vampire kings voice rose and carried down the stairs. reaching the front doors , which shut him back inside. vocal cords deep and rich. brown hues staring down , down , down at his invited guests fearsome state. demanding attention in sheer mockery , " poor Johnathon Harker , thinking of leaving my castle dracula in hopes of ... What ? " A cruelty dipped in poison but they were well past gambling games and hunted nights beating him down.

" the wolves would eat you. " he warned. wolfish howls and barking could be heard, forcing his voice to rise above them all, " you wouldn't get far. " did the canines covered in vampiric state surely deepen his stay? were his brides too much for Johnathon? driven frenzied and panicked in a jailed prison and labyrinth.

He would deal with that when the time came. When and no doubt if he had to. Come to think of it, he knew it would happen - just he hoped not right now.

He pushed the doors open and just stared for a few long moments.

🌤 — The curl of Akechi’s lip dulls only slightly, falling to rest in a scowl rather than the snarl it had been before. His eyes dart along Akira’s body, and though the rest of him seems dull, monotone— the red of his blood stands out. A striking crimson pulls the matching Red of Akechi’s eyes to its source. The bullet wound is there— but of course, of all people to withstand a gunshot to the brain, it would be Akira. Akechi wants to shoot him again. He keeps the gun trained on him, staring down that slow-spreading red spot as though it now served as a bullseye. His finger hovers over the trigger— a threat that should Akira move, he would pull again. He would unload every last bullet into him if he had to— anything to finally earn the satisfaction  of being the one to bring justice to the Phantom Thieves leader.

🌤 — ❝ Right . ❞ It’s a bitter agreement. A disdainful acknowledgement that Akira is correct. 

Humans do nothing but use each other. That much has always been painfully obvious. Even with the two of them— Akechi would say that everything had been deliberate like that. They had been useful to each other, and nothing more. Managing to push each other to where they needed— a mutual control that makes him want to win. To be the only one with control in the end. He hates to have ever had to allow himself to be used. Hates Akira. Hates all of it.

🌤 — ❝ Of course you understand . The noble leader of the Phantom Thieves , nothing but a pawn himself , disguised as a king . ❞

A pawn to the  rich and powerful, the same as Akechi. A pawn to those around him. The Phantoms— the world—  revolves around Akira, because of what he does for them. Because he’s of use. That’s all people care about. And yet, somehow, despite it all. Despite his knowledge of that fact. Akira remains so…

🌤 — A bitter laugh escapes Akechi’s throat without permission. Escalates, however briefly, into something almost manic— his free hand coming to rest on his forehead as he shakes his head. It’s ridiculous. Akira understands— yet he’s so. Different. His life had been put into shambles— he had been shot— yet here he sits. 

🌤 — ❝ God , shut up . I don’t want your empathy . ❞

INTERNALLY , BAIL sighs . he truly does appreciate an honor code , especially in a clone , in one that could have disastrous information should it get into the wrong hands . but bail is hardly the wrong hands . he just doesn't know how to express that without giving himself away too dangerously .

i was hoping for some answers. ( from Duck @gloryseized to Fakir )

❝ Then look elsewhere. ❞ Fakir doesn't look up from what he's reading, irritation slipping through his feigned indifference. He's sure by now that it won't deter her - that she'll simply remain, badgering him, until they're shushed by a library patron and he's forced to take his book and find somewhere else to read. Somewhere quiet and alone where he can pour over the pages of another esoteric volume to try to find a solution to Mytho's ... predicament.

A solution beyond slicing straight through that terrible, false princess and her determination to ruin them all.

This was a farce. Absurd, were it not so offensive. Not ten years since the last war had ended and here the empire stood, attempting to strong arm them once again in the noble pursuit of peace. It made him sick.

Not that anyone in the court knew it. He was a perfect diplomat, an easy smile, and a calming voice. Everything their chieftain was not. There was a reason he was kept around as more than a novelty. The last Gerudo male, the only surviving boy born to the tribe in twenty years. He ought to have been king; instead, he played dignitary for a woman who wasn't fit to serve outside the barracks.

Not that she would serve in that entirely ill-fitted position for long.

For now, he relaxed in the palace courtyard. As much as he disliked these trips, at least it allowed him time in a more suitable climate. They said his many illnesses in his childhood was down to his biology, but it was his opinion that they weren't meant to live in caves. Dank, dark, and humid. 

His eyes slid shut, resting weight on his right hand to enjoy the sun on his skin. It was nice, when it didn't blister every inch of him.

They flew open when he heard a footstep, though he didn't move anything else. Twitchiness was neither attractive nor trustworthy. Golden eyes slid towards the noise, only turning his head after he located his target.

IT HAD been said somewhat in jest , knowing that the truth of his existence was like seeing a ghost to some . but mostly what obi - wan felt was FEAR . here was a clone. not just any clone - but echo , one of the 501st . one of ANAKIN'S men . obi - wan has no idea what the next few minutes have in store - if they could be his last , or perhaps the beginning of the road that takes him to the hands of the empire .