#shaepschift

--- ❝ No, I'm alone. ❞ RELIEF set in with swift succession, shoulders sagging, but there remained that ever present STING of loneliness in the wake of her words ; it had been so long now since Emily had last encountered another human. Time had become ABSTRACT since the world fell apart, but there was always an attempt to follow the months as best she could, & Emily wagered it had been close to 8 months since she had seen another person.

❝ Thank you. ❞ She breathed as she shakily rose to her feet and continued to stare at him with WIDE eyes ; both awed & nervous in the presence of this clearly INTELLIGENT figure, aloofness & suspicion apparent in those eyes as he continued to scrutinise her. ❝ I-I swear to you I won't impose for long, I just...I just need time to get my bearings again. I've lost all my supplies in the storm that swept through here two days ago. ❞ 'Twas then that her lips turned up in a TENTATIVE smile. ❝ My name's Emily. ❞

Arriving at her father's within her Jeep had been an irregular occurrence over the course of four months. Often she came in rather bitter harm. Today was no exception.

A weighted arm pushed the door open and slung her leather garter primed with a machete holster onto the entryway staircase. The damn thing had barely made it through the ordeal. A nest, alike many others. The only difference for this hunt and the multiple duplicates that had occurred since Dean's...

They were done alone. Outnumbered, practically suicidal. She walked into the tiger's cage over and over again without fear of being dragged by the ankles and ripped at the seams. She should have been, but she wasn't. Nothing was new, and nothing mattered. The metal as it sliced through necks had been the only salvation since his contractual payment. Funny, the man was gone and yet her mind stayed centred but destabilized on him.

"Dad!" A shrill callout filled the Singer household. "I'm grabbing a beer," Not that announcing it changed much. This new routine contained a strange cycle of drink one, two, three, four - then sleep, then hunt. Sometimes eat. That was it.

Ms. Smith curved into the kitchen only to see him there - so close. Pale eyes darted to the counter before turning back at the sight of him and Allie adjusted into a defensive position. "You gonna tell me why you're wearing my friend's face, or do you like some knife-play first to get you lubed up?" a dirty, brown blood-smeared hand gripped at the silver knife on her hip and drew slow, so slow. She felt like all hell considering her grime and gore-covered form. Not to mention the many wounds across her body that would need stitching.

No time for that, Dean's imitation needed to expire first.

@shaepschift (graverobber) said: i did the best i could with the information i had at the time.

@shaepschift ( ifrit ) said : “Your face is doing that thing again… that thing that makes me want to touch it.”

                  SHE  GLANCES  UP  FROM  THE  STACK  OF  PAPERS  on  her  office  desk  to  look  up  at  the  ghoul ,  brows  pinched  as  she  leans  back  in  her  chair .  head  cants  to  the  side  and  she  lifts  a  hand  to  rub  at  the  line  formed  between  her  brows .  “ i  don't  know  whether  to  be  offended ,  flattered ,  or  concerned . ”  a  pout  pulls  to  her  lips  as  hands  fall  away  from  her  face .  she's  been  staring  at  papers  for  hours .  a  whole  stack  that  she  doesn't  know  why  she's  the  one  needed  to  deal  with  it ,  but  if  she  doesn't …  SHE'S  PRETTY  SURE  IT  WON'T  GET  DONE .  cardi  had  enough  on  his  plate  without  her  dropping  the  ball  on  things .  but  maybe  she  was  pushing  herself  too  much .  if  she  didn't  let  herself  relax  a  little ,  she'd  go  insane  looking  at  some  of  these  proposals .

@shaepschift ( mr . psaltarian ) said : ❝ pretending you don't need people doesn't make you strong it just makes you a jackass. ❞

                  HE  HAD  THOUGHT  THAT  DYING  WOULD  GET  mr .  psaltarian  off  of  his  back .  he  had  had  enough  of  sister  and  everyone  like  her  snooping  around  him .  with  sister  dead  and  copia  in  charge ,  he  had  hoped  that  he  could  be  unbothered .  he  wanted  no  one  around .  he  couldn't  trust  anyone ,  couldn't  be  bothered  to  ask  for  help  from  anyone .  it  wasn't  as  though  he  was  much  a  part  of  the  clergy  anymore .  he  didn't  really  HAVE  A  JOB  TO  DO .  so  he  couldn't  fathom  why  anyone  would  have  any  need  to  speak  to  him  or  push  for  something  unless  they  were  his  brother .  and  even  then ,  there  was  only  so  much  he  could  do .

what  would  be  the  point  in  asking  for  help ?  of  course  he'd  heard  whisperings  THAT  MAYBE  HE  SHOULD  GO  TO  THERAPY ,  but  who  the  fuck  would  understand  what  he'd  been  through ?  the  closest  anyone  could  get  was  the  ghouls  and  even  then ,  they  could  only  understand  what  being  in  the  pit  was  like .  though ,  most  of  them  weren't  forced  into  the  pit  against  their  will  and  punished  for  three  days  straight  while  some  bitch  was  trying  to  make  sure  they  could  continue  using  you  even  in  death .  so ,  WHAT  WOULD  BE  THE  POINT ?

he's  not  sure  who  had  sent  psaltarian  to  speak  with  him .  but  he  knew  that  once  he  found  out ,  he  would  make  sure  they  had  a  shit  week .  he'd  just  wanted  a  quiet  evening  in  the  archives .  just  himself ,  a  fireplace ,  and  a  good  book .  it  was  the  easiest  way  to  distract  himself  when  his  neck  started  to  itch  and  his  soul  FELT  LIKE  IT  WAS  ROTTING  with  memories  of  all  he  had  gone  through .  it  wasn't  was  if  he'd  let  on  that  anything  was  wrong .  he'd  just  disappeared  into  solitude  to  escape  the  cacophony that  was  the  abbey .  

@shaepschift asked: [ 18. ] sender shakes receiver out of a nightmare, comforting them in the aftermath. "same nightmare again?" // ifrit for terzo ( he loves his papa okay 😭 )

When the antipope gasps awake he grabs at his own neck in a fit of panic, swearing that in that moment between the remnant blur of sleep and alertness he can still feel hot blood spilling down his neck, the SICKLY metallic taste of it lingering on his tongue. Terzo also soon becomes aware that he's not alone, that a figure looms over his resting form to which he initially responds by moving his hand to the middle of the ghoul's chest to shove him away. Before he can do so however, he's SOOTHED by the familiar sound of his voice, letting out a trembling breath as he tries to regain his composure. He wouldn't be seen as weak even in front of his ghouls in fear of word getting back to his father or other members of the Clergy.