#s talking

it's not uncommon for people to come to the cemetery on halloween evening. rather it be to visit a loved one or to possibly see a ghost, it was pretty common. as for mapplethorpe? well, don't you know that the dead can walk the earth on halloween night? ( normally, he would be stuck in the abandoned amusement park that he had died in. ) midnight blue eyes see other spirits, usually visiting their own grave. ( that's what mapplethorpe had originally set out to do. ) though, his own death was still too hard to stomach.

he had separated from the other ghosts of the park, wanting to be alone for a little bit. ( he couldn't help but feel teary eyed at the sight of flowers at his gravesite. ) he wondered if it had been his mother who had left them there. he couldn't imagine anyone else would. ( though, he knows the action figure left by his grave was more than likely chester. ) the only thing that was out of the ordinary was the fact that a group of teenagers seemed to be sitting around, watching a horror movie on a large projection screen. his attention is actually drawn towards a strange looking man that seemed to be standing at a grave.

he's used to not being able to be seen, so he crouches behind the gravestone, peering up at the main from his so called hiding spot. though, he's alarmed whenever the taller man seemed to crouch down, peering around the gravestone only to immediately lock eyes with him. he can't help but freeze, eyes widen as he stares back.

❝ What are you talking about, ❞ suave are his words, delicately sprinkled with an ounce of delight, and wrapped in familiar warmth for someone who has ultimately earned a seat in his wild heart. ❝ you're making it sound like I died man. ❞ one way or another, Takumi simply did not wish to admit that he had done wrong; one whole year cycle, gone, without a word whispered between them but. . .

It was going to change, all of it.

Our investigator's hands delicately escaped Envy's hungry grasp, replacing with a pair of arms snaking around Envy's lithe torso. Takumi buried his face into his back, smiling delightfully, missing that long forgotten scent. He wanted to feel like home for a moment — just for a little while.

❝ Hey - check it out. ❞ There it was, glorified in what could've been described as eccentric oddity; glaring lights, sky piercing pointy tents, it was the alleged carnival that had once sunk into the ocean in 1920, now erect and running in the outskirts of a rural town.

Our investigator's eyes glimmered with glee as he stuck the side of his cheek against the car window. If this place was the real deal, they would be striking gold! ❝ Matt, Envy - do you think this is it?! ❞ He hollered, blatantly disregarding the wandering people dressed in odd outfits resembling deformed clowns.

Matt, who had been driving for three consecutive hours, felt somewhat nervous at the sight. The whole placed reeked of danger, and he wasn't favouring the chance of having to run for his dear life. ❝ Uh. . . Takumi, are you sure about this? ❞ The camera man decelerated the vehicle, sharing a glance with Envy as if asking for a voice of reason to stop this stupid idea.

his past of verona remains buried where no one should touch it, filed away with the same discretion as one would a scandalous affair. he's never learned to speak about it aloud. no tell-tale signs, no mentions even from his own lemurian relatives. verona, after all, isn't a memory; it's an infection, a dream where he killed and killed until he finally got caught.

people liked to think that cities hold no ghosts, that their history isn't written in blood but stone and plaster that can't bleed. well, they were wrong. verona was a theatre of bloodied curtains and perfumed lies. he moves through it like an assassin in the dark, every alleyway a mystery waiting to be unfold, a booby trap or a puzzle piece, and every face a betrayal waiting to take shape. it's also where he'd met envy.

in a prison cell almost too small for four, like a cottage in the middle of a forest. they were the only two people there then, and rafayel looked like he'd belonged on a stage than in a prison. envy didn't look like he'd belong here either. dainty, small, but rafayel's long learned to judge people by the look in their gaze—not their size.

[...]

"you're not exactly quiet, you know, at least not for me." he'd been lightly asleep, just sound enough to fool anyone, but since the memory of a blood-stained sea rafayel hasn't been sleeping well. the ghosts of his fellow kinsman claw at his heels from the depths, haunts him and telling him that he'll never be free of it unless he continues to kill. perhaps that's his madness speaking again, but every life he took as a debt repayment for lemurian lives robbed made him sleep better at night.

In her thousands of years of living, there have been many different characters she's met throughout the ages - yet the one before her still manages to capture her interest almost instantly. A rather rare occurrence these days. In this age where the Gods are no longer in power, her days tend to bleed into one another, one bored day after another - unless, of course, she takes it upon herself to find some entertainment. The Cult of the Golden Witch usually was enough to tide her other, but she found those people amusing rather than anything else. Simply a display of the corruption that still ran inside the blood of mortals, a proof of what they would do to make their dreams become a reality. It was entertaining and their faith gave her a small boost in power - but for someone to come here actively seeking her company? That was rare indeed.

"An inconvenience? No, a pleasant surprise, I hope". She offered a soft smile of her own as she walked out to greet him, trying to ignore the way in which he seemed to simply take ownership of their current surroundings. She'd burned many times by men just like this in the past, men that had come to learn the reason she was called a Witch, but a small part of her was still feeling rather entranced. It was not many who were willing to approach her, to have the audacity to come into her dwellings and ask for her companionship for the night. Despite the very obvious height difference and the sheer force of this man's will alone - the Witch did now cower, even as the shadows engulfed her smaller frame. Soft light instead began to dance around the outline of her form, hundreds of tiny golden butterflies shimmering in the shadows as though protecting their Lady from the inky darkness.