#mendinggreed

Walking with a gashed arm, broken rib and a bullet lodged on the back of her thigh wasn't exactly the best feeling. Those were the worse of the injuries widespread across her body. Deeper scratches still stung as she moves, while some surface wounds already started healing. All else from bullet wounds. She had torn a piece of her cloak to patch up the open wound on her leg, but she somehow knew the bullet has to be taken out in order for it to stop bleeding. 

The only silver-lining she found in her circumstance is that all major injuries are on her left side. And that she had an overused cloak to conceal her bloody and bruised figure as she treaded along one crowded street. At least she’d be able to drag half of her body as she proceeds on her plan. 

❝ Hey! ❞ She ignores the nauseating dizziness that hit her as she exclaims. She’d lost more blood than she thought. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to bump into people. Although, the collision with a stranger wasn’t exactly an accident either. 

she has prayed before, whispered empty, desperate words and craned her neck so her voice might be heard. her knees have known the dust and dirt. and in spite of the silence, she circles back at the sound of church bells, justifying the visits with pockets full of rosaries, golden crosses, holy relics left on display.

midday proves the best time to steal from a church. only beggars come when others dine, and they never cause trouble. pakunoda remembers the grit of soil under her skin, how bare heels bled a path leading nowhere. there is no sympathy, only a hollow space in her chest.

she settles in the front pew, clasping her hands and bowing her head like a bad habit, but no prayer surfaces. she suffers in suffocating silence and marks the altar in the pulpit as her target. the city does not afford many amenities to its religious centers, but she will take whatever rests there. she is a thief, nothing more, even if the prize is not worth taking.

she notices leorio enter the church and nearly smiles. a man so kind and devoted to his craft might as well be religious; he’s a good, good man, and if he prays to a benevolent god, that suits him. if desperation has driven him here, that suits him, too.

when he approaches, she rises and does not face him. instead, she draws close to the altar, bending at the waist so that her forehead nearly brushes the marble; her hands form a peak by her face before darting to snatch the golden crucifix lying betwixt twin candles. concealing it is a simple task.

‘i’m not,’ she says, turning to him. in the mosaic light from the stained glass windows, he appears almost divine. ‘i come for answers, but it seems no one wants to hear my prayers.’

NOT EVERY WORD IS A BONEYARD

❛I don’t believe I’ll die old, Leorio,❜ the edges o’ you peel’d back, humanity out on display - ev’ry demon comes falling from your mouth , don’t they ?? ev’ry BLACK thing you can peel from your bones, seeping into the air, your breath. all the good just came UNDONE suddenly, loose wires, didn’t it ?? 

fate && retribution make for torrid suitors, hand-in-hand with the world’s DEMISE as it comes crumbling around you. && this - makes you PAUSE. ❛LEORIO, STOP!❜ 

&& you know that no gods will stop this fall o’ a CAG’D heaven, the illusi’n o’ paradise in the bones o’ a whale ?? gods have always been deaf, yet they are blind to the unworthy too. you hold no illusi’ns that, when the day ARRIVES ( - finally, finally, finally ), they will clutch no sympathy in their breath, their palms, for your soul. 

so why must you be a sympathetic DEITY to the unworthy in their place ?? ❛Let - let me go, now. I have other duties to attend too, namely ensuring the safety of my charges in this calamity. If I could, I’d assist, but ... I have a duty.❜

【 👓 ;; A single word speaks volumes 】

some  one  word  prompts .  (    send   one   of   the   words   for   our   muses   to   interact   based   off   that   word   ) / Still Accepting !!

drunk : my muse takes care of your muse while they are in a drunken state.

   “ Wike I said, ‘reo-cakes… hic! I’m fwine… I won’t wet myself be bested by a twee dwamensional portal, ” Vivian pouts while drunkenly shaking her fist at the hotel’s entrance consisting of a revolving door she somehow had trouble entering through. Of course, what she had meant to say was, ‘Like I said, Oreo-cakes, I’m fine! I won’t let myself be bested by a three dimensional portal’, but from the way she slurred her words, it might have been a tad bit difficult to decipher the true meaning behind her silly murmurings.

   Either way, if it hadn’t been obvious by now, it was currently quite evident that she had a bit too much to drink from the way she had mistaken a lone entrance to be some fantastical portal. Regardless, she would still squirm out of Leorio’s grip and cup her hands around her  MOUTH,  before proceeding to holler the following: “ You hear that, stupid portal? Hic! I shall ‘ave my refenge yet! ‘Ust you wait! ”