#piorgan

@piorgan: ❛ you revel in my torture . ❜

oh projection, such a human concept for someone who insists they abandoned that the day their lover vanished into the reflection of the moon. typical puppets thinking they can have emotions, typical tools thinking they have other uses than their forged one. yet there it stands, determined to be seen as more despite their so called equality in their title of sinner.

time shakes his head, of course the conductor revels in their symphonies, what a boring thing to speak into the world. he turns, facing death's blasphemy itself and that same, cold smile that graces his lips upon that dark revelation all those centuries ago. vedrfolnir revels in knowing fate is his, rerir is correct, but what the other doesn't understand is how far he will puppet the strings to be the only winner in the end.

@piorgan - deep down, we all hope we're special . ( to lynette, from escoffier ! ) \ ✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝑰'𝑴 𝑨 𝑭𝑬𝑾 — 𝑛𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑡𝑜𝑜 ... pt. 01

( 🐈‍⬛ ) THE FELINE GLANCES down to the piece of cake that her company had made 'fore returning her attention to the cup of tea ; lifting the cup to her lips to take a sip 'fore pausing at the words the renowned chef spoke. her expression remained unchanged but her demeanor shifted ever slightly as she cleared her throat lightly.

❛ .. I DON'T. I'D rather be anything but --- my brother can have the attention instead of me. i thought i was special once but .. all that came from it was negativity and distrust. ❜

@piorgan: ❛ i banish you, i banish you with garlic . ❜

when the garlic bulb was thrown directly at him, the iudex blinks a couple of times as it bumps off his chest and falls to the ground harmlessly. was the chef aware of his presence and did it on purpose, or did she genuinely assume he was someone else?

@piorgan : * rerir unwrapping just to bite him *

      sea foam lapped at the lightkeeper’s heels as he walked — empty gaze cast out over the rocky shores. eyes slowly turned left & right, much like the lighthouse behind him. its light cleaved through the dark, but its reach was seemingly confined to the graveyard. even before the dilapidated structure was fixed, kyryll had grown accustomed to the dark. after all, the light of the blue flame shined brightest. it continued to do so now : confined in a lantern, casting an azure glow against nod krai's bleak background. legend & superstition surround it.

a cacophony of whispers — ancient fae echoing / taunting. that . . . thing materialized. the stench was awful, rancid : charred wood / damp soil. corpse in a perpetual state of rot. flins' gaze flickers — unnervingly calm, anticipating rows of jagged, razor - sharp teeth chomping down on his shoulder & devour him.

of course he did. rerir was nothing but a broken man, fueled by a centuries - old obsession. he covets what he cannot have. this fae was one of many.

      pain blossomed from where the sinner tore through : silver - white blood pouring forth from puncture wounds, outlined by wisps of blue flame that cloyed at his lungs. a pained gasp ruptured his throat, yet flins' expression stayed the same.

                                                  impassive. apathetic.

it's close to closing time, but as usual, the cafe is still bustling with those who're relaxing after work. not that ana minds — it helps keep her mind occupied. she holds on carefully to the milk pitcher in front of her, slowly pulling it down as to aerate the liquid inside. her eyes wander for just a moment, only to see one of their frequent fliers. he'd been showing up more often since their first encounter. she didn't mind. seeing familiar faces was always enjoyable. it was predictable. he stares intently at her, and she offers a sheepish grin.