#orderfcrged

@orderfcrged asked: [ inspection ] sender holds receiver's face while inspecting an injury they got

Most recoiled from the hand of death, but Kara just leaned into the touch, closing her eyes a little to savour the gentle contact.

It wasn't as if the pain bothered her much, pain never did these days, but the feeling of soft hands against her skin helped lessen that even more. The child knew she was radiating some heat, it was evidenced by the coolness she felt from the touch, but it never seemed to bother Rio, not even when Kara was running hot enough to singe the grass below her feet.

@orderfcrged asked: ❝ sheep will always need a shepherd. ❞

It had been so long since she had heard someone's voice, and even longer since that voice had belonged to someone other than her Grandmother. So Kara clung to Rio's every word like it was gospel, letting it shape her reality. Of course there was much she didn't know, having missed the last few thousand years of human history. But she did know sheep, and unlike everything else sheep made sense.

@orderfcrged asked: ❝ you are like your grandmother. same eyes. same mouth. same spirit. ❞

"Grandmother?" Brown eyes suddenly widened, refusing to blink, afraid Rio would vanish if she did. Finding Grandmother had been nothing more than a fantasy, a dream that the child thought would never be realized.

Now that she thought about it Grandmother was some kind of spirit, whispering lessons like the wind through the trees. Of course Death would know of her… perhaps more than Kara herself did.

What indeed?

How does one forgo the onset of death's design and leave within something more than a great vastness of undoing?

Death as a bridge, a fanatical beacon upon a deathless sun. His knees have scraped for less; all of Giedi Prime's have. No dirt, no cleanliness. No suffering, no glory. Feyd-Rautha ventures between the apex of revelation and the split-second thoughtlessness of disembowelment. For Rio, perhaps, there is no clear distinction. His blade will tell her more than enough.

@orderfcrged: ❝ The things we do for love like this are ugly, mad, full of sweat and regret. ❞

The things we do … Anakin would do anything to save Padme. He would scorch the earth beneath him, he would bleed himself dry; anything it took. He wasn’t able to save his mother and her death would haunt him for the rest of his life. He wouldn't survive losing Padme.

Anakin had always loved too much, too hard. As a child, he had nothing, not even the rags he wore were truly his own, for a slave could own nothing; the love between mother and son had been the only thing they could truly call theirs. Love was possession, love was everything. No amount of Jedi training had been able to rid him of his attachments. He clung to those he loved with greedy, covetous hands so that nothing could take them away.

But all things died, or so the inky dark voice of fear whispered to him. He raged against the idea as if the fire inside him could burn the fear to ash. He was the Chosen One, was he not? He was the Force made flesh and blood and if any could find a way around death it would be him. Which brought him here, to Death herself, ready to throw himself at her feet.

@orderfcrged

CRIMSON PEAK STARTER PROMPTS // accepting

@orderfcrged: ❝ A house as old as this one becomes, in time, a living thing. ❞

“My mom used to say that a house was like a body; it had bones, and eyes, and a heart.” There’s a hint of something on the woman’s face as she speaks, not quite a smile but a fond remembrance of a simpler time. It quickly falls away, leaving her looking lost. “This house isn’t just alive, it’s … hungry.” She glances around the shadowed room as if fearing the walls themselves were listening … perhaps they were. In many ways Hill House was more alive than the inhabitants it kept trapped inside.

@orderfcrged asked: ❝ whatever it is you have stolen, give it to me. ❞

Frozen hands did their best to hide Havah under her clothing, the mouse's cold body now moving under an unnatural power. Kara didn't want to give up her friend, she refused, she'd rather die herself before letting anything else happen to her.

Not that the abomination could fight like this, her own vessel ravaged by the same freezing temperatures that had killed Havah. She didn't have enough hellfire to keep a mouse alive…not that she knew she had any power at all. Not the kind of power her people had claimed she did when they closed the tomb, and certainly not the kind of power that had ripped a hole in the veil and stolen back her one companion, that was the power of gods, not of little girls.