I correlated their expressions with their sentences :)
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colors are so harrddd <>
@solar-but-he-is-small (left middle)
@coolgirl576 (top right)
seen from United States
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seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
seen from Jordan

seen from United States
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seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
I correlated their expressions with their sentences :)
(CLICK/TAP FOR BETTER QUALITY YIKES TUMBLR)
colors are so harrddd <>
@solar-but-he-is-small (left middle)
@coolgirl576 (top right)

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Hellebore Part 1
Part 2 | Part 3
It's a pleasant evening. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and it's the perfect day to take a nice little nap. A certain black cat makes itself comfortable on a warm patch of grass, kneading the ground, legs stretching out accompanied by a big yawn. Unfortunately, Umbra isn't allowed to enjoy the peace for very long when it's suddenly snatched up by the wispy fur on the back of its neck. The rush of heat has it hissing.
Don't give me that, Bloodmoon.
The beast pauses. It then whips its head around, a single red eye glaring. It chitters, tail swishing in a mix of hesitance and sardonic glee.
Took you long enough, Not-Sun.
You know my name by now you menace. What the hell are you doing here? Try to lie to me and I'll make sure your death is slow and painful.
The Lord begins the walk to his dungeon, Umbra (?) held in a firm grip. The cat doesn't even bother to try and flee, body limp.
I had plans but somebody didn't want to play nice.
You touched my servant. Couldn't keep your damn claws to yourself, huh?
Umbra (?) is shaken roughly. The spiral staircase is dimly lit by the Lord's flames.
He burned me! I couldn't do anything if I wanted to!
Aww, poor wittle demon, too stupid to detect protection spells when they're right in front of your face. I do oh so appreciate you giving yourself away though, you left so much blood all over the place it should've been obvious months ago.
Umbra (?) is thrown into one of the cells, enchanted bars keeping it in place. It's tail lashes and it paces restlessly, ears pinned back.
It would be nice to kill you- tear you apart like I did your brother- but Alcor has suggested I keep my bloodlust to a minimum as of late, and I'm sure even you know how persuasive he can be. Luckily for you, that means I've been able to come up with far more creative punishments. You've spent all this time pretending to be Alcor's little pet kitty, it'd be a shame if I went and ruined the illusion, don't you think?
Wherewherewherewhere? He just had it! He's never lost it before! The Lord's gift is gone! His throat feels so exposed without it. How did he even lose it? He was... He was cleaning his neckpipe, because dust and all sorts of stuff, and then he was going to clean the ribbon but- His dresser rattles again and again as he searches each and every drawer. Behind his pillows? No, then where?!
A faint snicker has his joints locking up. Hellebore. Alcor had become used to his presence by now, meaning he's aware of all of the little tricks he likes to play. He doesn't even bother to close his door, stepping with haste through the hallways. That damn demon. Gosh now he's starting to sound like the Lord... He makes it to the library in record time and look who's perched on the balcony rails with a stupid grin. His prize is held between two far too sharp claws.
Hellebore! Give that back!
The blood demon's ears twitch but otherwise the servant is ignored.
Hellebore! I- I said!-
Aww, but it's such a pretty shade of red. Why shouldn't I keep it? Afterall, it'd look better on my head.
Hellebore chitters, skittering along and down a bookshelf. It's more fun mocking someone to their face where he can see all their stupid expressions. Alcor has many of those.
Such a pretty, pretty-
As soon as Hellebore is in range, Alcor forms and launches an ice ball at his chest. Hellebore chokes and wheezes at the impact as he's knocked back several feet and down to the floor, abandoning his hold on the precious article. At least he has the sense to value his life over a worthless thing like that.
Ow...
The servant aptly snatches back up the ribbon, brushing off any dirt or dust. Contently he ties it back around his throat, his expression one of bliss as he shuts his eyes to savor the feeling. His hands then fall to his hips and he opens his eyes to glare at Hellebore.
Don't take things that- that don't belong to you.
The demon simply grumbles and growls, fading into the shadows to lick his wounds as Alcor stomps away.
Oh oh um
Ages cause I like never mentioned those
Mizar: 750~
Alcor: 820~ (70~ years total in the void, might lower just a little)
Tigerlily: 50 BUT normal aging humans are boring so she's equivalent to early 20s
Hellebore: 330-400 not really set in stone yet

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Alcor stumbles, catching himself against the wall. He jerks around. It felt like someone hit him across the back. But there's no one there.
My Lord...?
A sharp pain rips through his body and his hands clutch at his head as he crumples against the wall. The feeling of burning is an old friend. Who else could be causing this but his God?
And then he's coughing up blood, red organic blood. It's thick and viscious, sticky between his fingers. It glistens in the sunlight that streams in through stained glass. That... isn't normal. Alcor doesn't bleed human blood.
Another spike of pain has him crying out. His vision wavers and the next time he blinks he's in a new location, laying limply against the wall a few feet away. The blood is still there and his body aches but it's not so heavy anymore, the burning is gone. The pain is gone. His sunrays sink in as he catches his artificial breath.
What the servant doesn't notice as he recovers is the small shadow disappearing around the corner.
Tiktik. Tiktik. Tiktik.
Perfectly sharpened talons click with each step on the stone road. Varying stains of unknown origin are passed by without concern. The moon outlines the path within its golden glow.
A tail ending in fluff grazes the pathway. Like an unkempt broom it sweeps back and forth, excitement, anticipation. It collects dust with every pass but nothing sticks for long in the silken fur.
Quiet pants leave plumes of white clouds in the crisp air. A forked tongue slips past tiny teeth to dampen chapped lips, hunger, thirst. An unforgiving tool that's met many a foe and just as many a victim.
The creature of the night hunts in Cacumen.