#martyrssiah

A stare. In it’s own way, it was enough to tell this man that his life would end at his hands. Regardless of who they were, Julius Belkisk Harwey would be the last opponent this man would ever face. “ Uryuu Ryuunosuke.” Words said with such little malice, but were instead meant to be almost a calling card, a black spot.

“i got really scared today,” they admit through gritted teeth. “i thought i saw her again. i’m really happy...this is my home now. i’m sorry i don’t say that more often. but, i mean it.” if aoko’s tone isn’t enough to prove it, perhaps their tears are. they flood against ryu’s chest. leaving his shirt to soak in all the salty tears. something they’d apologize for profusely later.

      He is absolutely wagging his metaphorical tail.  There is a stretching of wings, flutter and tuck.  They hardly fit in the kitchen as it is.  “ Oh, yes pls!  It smells amazing, Ryuu-kun! “  Currently leaning over his Master’s shoulder, chin propped against him.  Once the aforementioned spoon is offered to him, tongue snakes against the batter with a keen noise. 

“R-Rodents?”

Mitsue, as usual, figures spacing out was a good idea. He hasn’t been paying attention to the world around him, it’s a miracle he didn’t trip over anything and land flat on his face. Pale purple eyes blink back at those green ones, they’re brighter than he would’ve imagined an Assassin’s would be. He’s so used to the masks and secrecy that others – Cursed Arm especially – wear, that seeing a face is slightly comforting. There’s at least something to look at when talking.

   The subtle smell of jasmine tea hides under the smell of incense, the count enjoying a poisonously sweet cake from a nearby bakery. The shop was open, but he seems to be hiding away from the back. He’s in his little cove hidden behind curtains, and countless people with very odd qualities,

Hans Christian Andersen has been reserved for you! Thanks!