#morsbringer

The girl seemed familiar in some way. Which was odd; she tended to go through and through her past experiences and lives to truly figure out where she stood as a being. But after getting out of that place? Things were missing. There were gaps in her memory, in her mind, and it just so happened that Jenny was one of the gaps that had gotten erased. Temporarily or not, she had no idea who she was.

“Let’s just say I’m havin’ some memory issues.” She shifted, her arms upon the chair in front of her as she studied the other. She seemed nice enough. She seemed someone she could easily play with if she wanted to. Too bad the other seemed to know her already.

Maybe she could pretend she was The Doctor again. That was always fun.

“Who are ya?”

It didn’t surprise her, being forgotten.

She would’ve been more-so if she hadn’t; too much time had passed, too much had changed. The elegantly woven tattoos on her shoulders and arms attested to that, remnants of the places she’d been, the worlds she’d searched. Plural. A multitude. Too many to continue caring by now, too long to really try - and, as she’d found, not trying had led her here anyway. But much too late. No, the Wanderer wasn’t surprised at being forgotten, but she was at how much it ached. Perhaps she wasn’t so over it as she’d thought. Never mind that - there was talk to be had, and an introduction to be given.

It was probably better this way. She could take her moment of longing, of wistful, errant thought, and choke it back down with only a little flicker in her expression. She’d gotten good at that, over time.

“... Most people call me Wanderer.” A little quiet to start, her voice gained strength as she tossed aside old memories and embraced the potential to start over fresh. “Used to go by Jenny, but I don’t anymore. Must’ve mistaken you for someone else, sorry - what’s your name again?” She asked it to confirm, though she already felt she knew. Then again, something seemed a bit ... off. Instinct had been the only thing that kept her alive thus-far, and so she trusted it above anything else, including people. Her arms remained crossed over her chest, the look on her face flicking from even the tiniest bit of hope to forcefully blank; the more she thought on it, the more something seemed amiss.

{meme} @morsbringer

Love was something that wasn’t common for him to come by. It was something he rarely felt. Perhaps it was because his strong sense of apathy? However, there were certain times, or specific people that made those things come out?

Mors was certainly an exception to the normal but he didn’t mind it at all. In fact, he was proud to say that he did dare love her. Even if he wasn’t the best at expressing it.

{x} @morsbringer

Dark was relaxing in bed, not particularly sleeping since he rarely slept. He was usually alone so the last thing he expected was company, which meant he was very surprised when Mors crawled in bed.

was it foolish of him to pray? 

the words stumbled from his lips, a broken mixture of hebrew and english that echoed in the still air of his dark office. his words were an invocation, but not of his G-d. not for the first time, murder stained his hands, which now trembled under a thick coat of blood. the draught-- these emotions, this remorse.... the draught should have blocked those out. 

he prayed to the angel of death, half out of remorse for his wretched deed, and half out of a desire to explain himself.