#mirisx

assorted injuries. / accepting!

@mirisx​ asked: “You have blood on your face.” [ more opportunities for you to test out Alec unu ]

                                            "Please don't leave me alone."

          “Sshhh”.

   The soft hushing sound was barely a whisper as he reached up cupping the side of his face. Smoothing his thumb along his cheek to wipe at his tears.

          “I’m not going anywhere...I will always be at your side. No matter what.”.

   His lips curled into a smile as he patted Fait’s cheek softly. He hadn’t meant to scare the other coming back so beat up like he did. But ah that last mission was pretty rough. Clearing his throat softly as he shifted on his bed, sitting up against the metal barred headboard. 

          “Come on...stop crying. It’s alright”.

   He coos softly as he cups the other side of his face, wiping more of his tears. giving him a gentle but pained look.

          “I’m sorry.”.

@mirisx​ asked:  "Ya gonna kill me or what, honey? I ain't got all day."

“As you wish.” His fingertips barely graze the young man from cheek to chin, yet this momentary connection is all he needs for the curse to take root. A mere flash of crimson in Atreyis’s eyes the only indicator of casting.

The physical symptoms are immediate, faster than he remembers. A vicious spread of angry, red veins branching out beneath the skin of Fait’s cheek. Creating a sensation of razor sharp teeth tearing into flesh and setting the nerves ablaze with an unquenchable fever. It will not be long before the agony overtakes the entire body, before the first stages send the mortal into shock. 

@mirisx ➤ SEND ME “I’D TOTALLY FUCK YOU” TO SEE MY CHARACTER’S REACTION - "I'd totally fuck you." [ totally not a coward ]

Well, DAMN. This nuisance had quite the mouth on him, DIDN'T HE?

" Gaia be damned, you're lucky you're not a WOMAN, and that the DON ISN'T AROUND, otherwise that statement woulda been a one way ticket to being a bride. "

“For what? Being a failure? Being weak?”.

He’s not amused as he stares at the feline with an annoyed look on his face. A sigh came from him as he pushed the tray of food away from himself. Wincing beneath that cold look on his own face, his hand passing across the bandages that covered the expanse of his abdomen and chest. He was pathetic. He didn’t deserve a single word of Fait’s kindness. He was never going to get any better. He would always be stuck there. He hated himself for even thinking that. The annoyance on his face just seemed to increase as he clenched his hand into a fist, nails biting into his skin.

V’s heart was easy to sway. It couldn’t be helped, he knew the difference between right and wrong. But the sight shocked him, no matter how many times he’d see similar; only this was different. The boy was no incidental stranger but someone who’d rescued V from his own stupidity. Someone V had to trust, someone who had to trust in V no matter how scarcely; someone V thought he may even hazard to call a friend, given time. And it was through such perspective that he felt the need to step in and spare the young man from crashing onto the hard asphalt. V held him as gently as he could manage, but it was necessary to turn him over so that he may rest as comfortably in V’s arms as was possible. The entry wound was apparent: freshly glistening and streaming. The stain in Fait’s clothes spread, deepened, and V knew in his gut that he alone was powerless to stop it. His hand pressed to the wound and his heart bravely ignored the pained vocalizations that had somehow the strength to escape. The body in his arms was heavy and light all at once; there was a pallor come upon a freckled visage that frightened him. Quickly had the palm of his hand stained red, and between the fingers, and the metallic scent in the air almost sickened him when he’d begun to taste it over his own tongue. “Fait, listen to me!” As though he expected Fait would give him more than that—but the poor thing was fading fast, wasn’t he?

V refused to face the situation with any concept of reality.

Alone, unfamiliar with surroundings that struck him with cold, what could he accomplish? But he banished the thought, preferring to act in this instance. His own shortcomings be damned, the warlock relinquished his bloodied hand in favor of tucking his arm under Fait’s legs. Desperation made men wild as it made them strong: V lifted him off the ground to carry him. He didn’t care that he was bled on for it. He didn’t care that he would tire; he didn’t care that it challenged his body to carry another. He would go as far as he could to save this life. V was not the sort of man to ignore another in need, but this was Fait. True, someone he knew only slightly, but someone he knew! And Fait was good to him, had taken care of him. How could someone as sentimental as V not return the favor? How could he let his debt go unpaid? It didn’t matter how many times he’d been told to forget about it, not to worry, to let things be. 

If a wretch like V was worthy of a second chance, surely so was Fait. He was good, he was kind, his heart truly in the right place. And in him V saw himself, so much of himself, and that might have been both the most reassuring and startling realization in a long while. Oh, the poor thing... V had to save him!

prompt  |  @mirisx​ sent:  "Talk about Garrett." 👀

“Ah...? Well... He’s my boyfriend.” What better way to start, though V had been astounded that anyone would ever seek such a thing from him. No part of him was really accustomed to uttering the words he just had, and they struck even him with a novelty that almost didn’t feel right; as if it was strange, inappropriate, unreal. But here V told the truth and was free of all sin. He rightly couldn’t be blamed for the way he paused, faltered, reflected—the request came so abruptly! He hadn’t the benefit of an inkling or a hint, and now he existed very awkwardly, yet with fondness coloring his skin. Attempting to settle, clenching fingers over worn, crafted silver, he ruminated with a pleasant little smile over his mouth. Rare were the opportunities when V could speak of his mate rather than to him.

It might have made him bashful, but the desire for expression conquered any insecurity. “I prefer to call him my love, or beau, or sweetheart,” he continued, “but I suppose it all means the same in the end. One way or another, he's...mine.” Again that strange feeling; to think in such possessive terms of a demon whom he prized was wrong to his mind, but that did not stop the heart from beating as it did. “I don’t pretend to own him, of course. Don’t get the wrong idea.” As if he needed to excuse himself. He tried to ease into his seat for comfort, but back support did little for his soul. His grasp over the cane appeared absolute; his thumb, in fact, rubbed the metal absentmindedly. What could he say that was concise? What could he elaborate on without being a bore? But he very much wanted to say it all, only he knew not how. He allowed his heart to take the reins, however, as he’d found that his mind was less cooperative. Thoughtfully, V opened his mouth before long. “I love him. It isn’t that he’s only a boyfriend. That word’s used too loosely to mean anything. But Garrett means something to me—everything. He thinks so little of himself, it saddens me that he doesn’t see what I see.” The contentment fell from his lips and his eyes mirrored the motion. “I guess he’s satisfied with my feelings, but...damn, I wish he would find some value in himself. I can’t stop reminding him of what he’s done for me, and what he does, and he’s such a good man for it. But he’s not good only for me. He’s a crafty devil but he has a heart made of gold. You would see it if you knew him. So selfless and sweet, and gentle...”

V gazed distantly, thinking perhaps too deeply and losing himself in a sea of adoration. This would happen sometimes, but typically unprompted. Here he was made to think about all that he enjoyed of his lover—even the things he liked less. He hadn’t been aware that his thumb had stopped rubbing the metal. “So eager to please,” so resumed the sorcerer, “and he always pleases me.” As quietly as he’d spoken now, his words were still audible. “He has his humor, and he makes me laugh.” There was instantly a smile born of a memory; his eyes focused again on his conversation partner. “He’s cute. Adorable. He dotes on me, you know. I feel...special, I guess, when he does. He likes to take care of me, and I like it, but sometimes it’s in excess and then...that makes me feel like a child. It isn’t a feeling I’m fond of, but he doesn’t mean it; he’s only thinking of me and I’d rather he do that than he neglect me.” For a moment the smile faded, for a moment V considered whether or not that made him sound spoiled. He remembered he was meant to talk about his mate, not his own shortcomings, and coaxed the smile to dawn once more as he thought this time before he voiced himself. “He’s alluring, irresistible, bewitching—and I’m supposed to be the one who casts spells. Who would have guessed?” V welcomed the irony in that and gave a shrug of the shoulders in indifference. He liked the effect Garrett held over him, whatever it was, and he wore an amused expression to evidence that. “He is a treat to admire, and I might expound if I had the day to spend on it. Ha! But there's much more to be said about him.”

Too much, in fact. Mention of time reminded him that dusk loomed; beyond the window, the sky painted itself in darkening shades of blue. In seconds that were fleeting, V reflected on the things which remained unsaid. It wasn’t enough, what he’d explained so far, and he doubted that even the night would help him illustrate any better. Near the horizon, he spied a shade of blue like that in the eyes of his beloved. Not once had he described the look of that fox, had he? Terribly neglectful of V.

“Frankly,” sighed the warlock, “there’s too much for me to put into words. In fact, I doubt that words alone can really communicate everything. But the effort isn’t wasted. It’s really no effort at all. Of course I’ll want to talk about him. I love him...more than I can say. He really is the world to me—my world. My life.” There, again, that possessive language. V had been aware, but unlike before he did not address that slip of the tongue. He wouldn’t correct it. Who else but V held that demon’s heart in their hands? Who else had loved him so completely, so desperately, so painfully? Who else would think of him, yearn for him, crave his every attention? And if there be another, V would not stop. Garrett was his, and V would go to the ends of the earth to keep him.

After a spell of silence, V rose to his feet without a second more to lose and donned a great smile, as if the whole of his demeanor morphed and now there stood a gladdened man in place of a contemplative one. “But that will have to be it for now. Garrett happens to be taking me out tonight, so I must dress for the occasion.”