#imitangel

Trevor supposes that, down here in the catacombs where everyone has already been laid to rest, there isn't an alarmingly high rate of danger. Well, save for the one off skeleton that occasionally reanimates itself from time to time.

But truthfully that guys been doing fine lately so there probably isn't much need to worry. It's above ground that Trevor is more concerned with, though the young woman he crosses paths with down here in the catacombs seems to be unbothered.

She could be another Hunter, he ponders. Her nonchalant attitude towards her current surroundings certainly contribute to that theory, and now curious, he's about to ask her such.

That is, before she walks straight into a rather impressive spider web and winds up with a new eight-legged hair decoration, the arachnid a stark contrast against his companions stark-white hair. A striking appearance that many around here do not possess.

A small chuckle emits from the Hunter's throat before he helps the poor creature out of her hair and back into its web. The fact that she does not harm the spider nor its home does not go unnoticed. Empathy has long since abandoned Wallachia.

"Perhaps no, at least, not down here we aren't. Everything here has been resting for many years. It's above ground that worries me." A short pause, a cautious look between the young woman's face and the spider that is crawling back to the center of it's web.

It's hardly a polite greeting; it's scarcely even a greeting at all, more a blunt observation, yet the words just seem to spill from Robin's lips. Normally his manners aren't lacking. He doesn't even realise his rudeness until she turns to him, at which he, promptly and ironically, turns his face from her gaze in shame.

Robin has seen much; often, it feels like too much. It hasn't been long since he'd returned to his country, yet he finds his mind is still on the battlefield. He is home and he is far away; he is everywhere and nowhere all at once. The sister has a good eye, or perhaps it is obvious, that he is a soldier not long returned home.

Guy wanted to sit down, but felt he couldn't. Sitting meant lowering his guard, making himself easier to grab, or drag, or hurt before he could even lift a hand to defend himself. His whole life felt wired with dread lately — like every second was closer to some tragedy he couldn't quite guess correctly. But despite the war in his chest, he obliged, and lowered himself on the seat beside the nun.

You are safe here, he kept repeating those words in his head, like a mantra. But it wasn't really convincing him. His eyes kept darting toward the doors, making sure nobody was about to burst through. Who would ? He wasn't sure anymore, everyone was so damned cruel now. In a way that felt contagious.

His leg bounced, a futile attempt at soothing his nerves.

As she spoke, Guy was already comparing her words to what the priest had already told him. It's all part of the plan. That should be enough to comfort him, but it didn't. ❝ I fear He's the only one on my side right now. ❞ Would that include her ? The clergy ? Maybe they were protected, too. Here, at least, he felt less unsafe. Outsiders may break down the doors, but he didn't suspect she would hurt him. It's a relief, even if a minor one.

It made him comfortable enough to spill his concerns. ❝ I think . . . there is something terribly wrong with this town. Been hearing . . . ❞ Guy looked over his shoulder again, making sure nobody else was listening, before finally forcing himself to focus on her instead. ❝ . . . gunshots at night. Screaming, too. Never ends. Tried calling the police, they just threaten me . . . or hang up. Don't know what's going on. Scared to find out. But it's every night. ❞

His leg bounced harder. He dropped one heavy arm on it, trying to stop the motion. She'd shown him more compassion in a mere minute than the outside world had in weeks. Maybe God sent him here. Maybe she could help . . . maybe someone finally would.

❝ Everyone's been so hostile toward me lately. Been struggling financially, & nobody cares. All impatient with me . . . like they wanna hurt me just for lookin' at them. They look sick. Have you noticed that ? ❞

Send me 📏 (ruler) + your muses height and I'll compare them to mine! @imitangel

Oh boy.

Oh boy.

Oh he can't laugh at her, since he knew how small she was but. Now that he really is thinking about it, her being this short means that... she may have to ask him to get things for her on top shelves. He could also-

send emojies for what kind of dynamics you want to plot!

💓 falsely assumed unrequited 

🤎 begrudgingly falling in love

//oh hell yes i love a good slow burn!!! like enemies to lovers is great it's my fucking bread and butter, but there's something to be said about like... slowly falling in love with your best friend until one day you realise you're nothing without them?? like oh man what if they only see me as their goofy bff and not their soulmate?

meanwhile said bff has been planning their wedding for three years but has never been brave enough to say anything. both of them think the other thinks it's strictly platonic, meanwhile they're both crashing out internally because I WANT TO KISS YOU, YOU IDIOT.

"Well, lady. Normally I would say a 'hello' or something before just- hey!" When the oil hit his face he didn't realize what she's doing. It's only after he takes a moment to slap his hand to his face as he recoils, less in pain or repulsion but of a bit of annoyance instead.

"And the only growling that you may have heard from me is from my stomach, but clearly this isn't the local Applebee's."