#jokersmild

jokersmild said: A small fleet of sirens passes by your apartment, but perhaps that's not worth noting. What might be is the small box that flies toward the very window you'd glanced out of and lands precisely on the sill. The box itself is decorated in purple and green, topped in a glittery orange bow, complete with tag "Happy Holidays! From Mr Holiday." Inside the box is an undamaged bottle of red nail polish. The label explains that it's safe to wear, yet poisonous when the wearer makes an open wound with it.

      It wouldn’t be smart, she thinks, to open a ‘gift’ from a complete stranger.            But acting as if being ‘smart’ isn’t about the same as being unbearably dull rankles and hey-- if she doesn’t die, then at least she’ll have an interesting story to tell, right? She watches the chase continue from her window for a bit longer, until the strobes of red and blue are gone and a little after, until the bite of the wind threatens to turn pale fingers blue. Only then does she retreat, shutting the window with an idle slam and returning to her bed.            On it, Lilith slithers, a lean black stripes against scarlet sheets, her head peeking cautiously over the edge of I-no’s bed.            Clucking her tongue, she scoops her up and sets her back in her terrarium, finding no need to endanger her pet along with herself. Then she settles on her bed and disassembles the gaudily-colored gift with swift motions, nails slicing through tape with unnatural ease. The bottle contained inside is just her shade, but it’s the label that makes her narrow her eyes, then causes them to widen in the same breath. Tapping the bottle against her lips, she examines her current coat of polish, and decides that it’s been long enough.            It would be rude not to at least give the gift a shot, right?            Mind made up, she makes her way toward her dresser, where her other polishes and the acetone rest. A couple of coats ought to do it. Maybe a base coat to make sure she doesn’t end up poisoned herself, just in case. She gives the bottle a little shake as she picks up her materials, humming to herself. 

“What?”

He was staring at her like he knew her... and she most certainly didn’t know him. It was kind of unnerving, the way those black eyes just seemed to bore into her soul. And the way he was smiling too; no way, she didn’t like that, not one bit.

For you see, the assimilation had been a success. She remembered nothing of Spirale, her friends and her life before that. Not even him. She didn’t remember putting up a damn good fight against her Mist Reaper and she didn’t remember losing. All she knew was that she was a vampire from Yela Alora and this guy was seriously creepy.

Exploring his home district was taken a little more casually on this day. Cotes had a lot of nice scenery and it's resemblance to Japan made it feel comfortable- to some. He took business trips to Japan on and off through the years before Lucius took over for him and he had quite enjoyed it. Those streets had been a lot cleaner than these.

There was little rest to be had with the laundry list of things Bruce wanted to map out and examine further. But then again, when did he ever rest?

It was a simple cafe that he sat outside of, a cold half cup full of coffee and napkin opened up on the table with a map of the city sketched out in pen. Those responsible for bringing him here didn't supply him with any of his nice suits or expensive clothes so he had to throw some dust down on a cheap guise. Those that didn’t know his face well enough might not even recognize Bruce Wayne outside of a suit.

With a sigh Bruce leans back in his chair to examine the sketch with many blank spaces. He could buy a map of the city of course, but it wasn't the same kind of information he searched for.

Purple green and white catch the corner of his eye. Ever flashy, there’s a knot in his throat as he notices the Joker from afar. He knew the man had been in the city and it was rotten luck to had to run into him as a civilian.

@invitedeath wh!! Well I never!! Fine then, I'll bring my own diningware. Comprised of animal shaped plastic plates and plastic cutlery clearly intended for children. Your aesthetic? Ruined for this most grievous of insults.

[ Joker voice: BOO, GET OFF THE STAGE. ]

BITTEN SENTENCE MEME *ﾟ━ @jokersmild

Ardyn had a propensity for losing his mind, just a touch, every now and again. It probably had to do with all the daemons rattling around in his brain, a scourge that could never be healed.

Ah, well. All the memories collide around in his head like a pinball machine, and sometimes it feels nice to simply check out. Anger and resentment had built inside him over time, but now it was more or less time to let go: the Lucian line had ended, and Ardyn was in this place.

Wherever that was.

Right now the afterlife appears to Ardyn as a museum, somewhere in what he distantly recalls as being the upper levels of the Fibonnacci Ward. He watches the people walk and talk with each other, and he distantly feels an ache in his own chest. It’s so distant, though, it feels like it could hardly be there.