#wretchedwrought

UNPROMPTED LETTER FOR THE FOX ! ✿   always accepting. @wretchedwrought​ (gotlinde) has whispered:  ‘ all i want is to be soft & gentle, but i’m made out of steel & anger. maybe in another life, i guess. ’

What is the purpose of silk and velvet, if not that of hopelessly concealing the STEEL and ANGER underneath  ?  Her interlocutor’s words are heavily laden with a SENTIMENTAL FAMILIARITY that she rarely  (  if ever  )  experiences for the fate of someone who’s not her own reflection ‘pon the crystalline surface of her mirror   ───   And thus, HER HEART SINKS into the most profound depths of her amaranthine ribcage, landing right in the center of an ancient GRAVEYARD where Ahri has desperately buried all the skeletons of her past and where the eerie specters of lamentable regrets & broken dreams continue to perpetually linger. Would it be appropriate, to nurture and water the seed of empathy  ?  Her mother tongue has never spoken in gentleness and kindness, nor is her mental vocabulary filled with brazen and luminescent words   /   How bizarre, that a FLOWER can still miraculously manage to bloom even when surrounded by naught but warm ichor and hollow dimness. 

OH, TO BE FINALLY RELEASED FROM THE ACHE OF MORTAL FLESH  !  Emotions rise in tidal waves, tempestuously collapse against the marrow of cracked bones and endlessly spill on the pallid outside under the features of a doleful, melancholic simper   ──   GODHOOD OR BEASTHOOD  ?  The path in front of her is no longer straight and it now leads to two utterly different outcomes: not a single generous indication has been  left to guide her forward, to lead her towards the achievement of her ultimate goal, towards the ASCENSION to a realm in which ichor and thought are one and the same. Ever-changing like the eerie moon above them is the demeanor of the VICAR, now tamed and tranquil, then restless and agonized by the echoing howls of frenzied beasts in the lowest districts of the city  ;  AND SHE LISTENS TO THEM with the same attention of an earnest mother and in the same manner a mother abandons an unwanted and unsought child, does she CONDEMN these unfortunate souls to wilt and rot under the blades of her Hunters. 

creepy location meme  /  accepting.

the first thing she thinks on entry is:  this isn’t right.  there are certain expectations one has upon entering a supposedly haunted,  abandoned cabin on the outskirts of an abandoned mining town,  and they do not align with the reality of the situation when she opens the door.  it swings slowly open on rusted hinges,  wailing in protest,  and the interior of the space gives her pause.

what she had expected was rotting floors,  filthy windows,  a stray piece of furniture in some mild state of disrepair.  perhaps,  given the place’s reputation as a local hotspot for paranormal activity,  a few lingering signs of tourists and amateur investigators:  graffiti,  a cigarette butt abandoned here or there,  perhaps even some tongue-in-cheek warnings spelled out on the walls.  she has seen pictures from others who came before her.  

what she finds instead is chaos.  it does not look like pictures shared online,  passed around in spaces dedicated to urban exploration and modern hauntings.  the space is recognizable in only the vaguest of terms,  the same space only after a very targeted hurricane.  a rotting wooden table,  left behind when the cabin was abandoned decades prior,  has been not simply overturned but thrown across the room.  it sits on its side,  visibly cracked down the center.  chairs are reduced to piles of splinter.  the windows are broken,  a fact that she had not found especially concerning on circling the relatively un-noteworthy exterior,  and the walls are…  there are gouges in the walls.  deep, jagged grooves that look like they must have been made with some sort of blade to be as deep as they are.

the second thing she thinks is:  it was probably just an animal.  this seems like a reasonable assumption to make.  certainly it is a safe assumption to make,  although she still takes a moment to mentally kick herself for coming alone.  if only nori hadn’t cancelled last minute,  misa would not need to feel quite so… uneasy with the scene laid out before her.  something still feels off,  like  –  like whatever happened here happened recently,  and that perhaps whatever is responsible is not so far away.

still,  she swallows this concern,  as it is probably nothing.  misa isn’t a nature person and cannot say what kind of local animal would have been capable of doing this,  but it’s easy enough to write off.  she steps over a pile of shattered glass and lets the door wail closed again behind her,  moving towards a place where the wall is marked up.  she has a crappy disposable camera with her,  and there’s no reason not to still take photos while she’s here.

and she’s in the process of doing so when she hears something outside.  the rustling of foliage,  which is mangled and overgrown,  but it’s consistent and it is getting closer.  there are several things she could do based on the assumptions she chooses to make about the source of the noise,  but logically – realistically – it is almost certainly an animal.  there is no reason to assume that it is not an animal.  and if she simply stays inside and keeps quiet,  she has nothing to fear from an animal.

UNPROMPTED LETTER FOR THE FOX ! ✿   always accepting. @wretchedwrought​ (gotlinde)  has whispered:  ‘ i broke into sharp pieces when i broke & i expect someone else to hurt their hands on my edges just to put me back together. i’m sorry. ’

   ❝  You don’t have to apologize. Or, to be more precise and honest, if you truly desire to roll some APOLOGIES ‘pon your tongue, then I’m certain that all of them should be directed to YOURSELF and no one else.  ❞    Docile and saccharine is the voice of the foxen creature, for it feels like honeysuckle dripping from the tip of her serpentine tongue, further adorned by the softening of unblemished features into the vision of a frown that is as genuine as it is concerned. Countless of times throughout her agonizingly elongated life, has she BROKEN into jagged smithereens   ───   Sometimes, it would be naught but the partial loss of a LONELY FRAGMENT whilst, other times, it would be the literal shattering of her entirety  (  her heart and soul and body  )  into asperous and rugged pieces that could have never fit together as they once used to, no matter how violently and desperately she attempted at making herself WHOLE once again.

GILDED GAZE unconsciously falls ‘pon the ground underneath her feet for the briefest of moments before it eventually returns to the vulpine-she’s interlocutor, anchoring itself ‘pon pale features that evidently hide much more than superficially meets the eye. To maim and destroy is much easier than to nurture and build: an indeed cruel fate for MONSTERS, whose ribcage is oftentimes thought to be vacant and hollow.   ❝  Helping you didn’t inherently imply the suffering of someone else. After all, if one is careful enough, those same broken pieces can be easily picked up without shedding unnecessary blood, without lacerating neither the flesh or the soul.  ❞

↪ @wretchedwrought​ asked;;                   “most people don’t have it, what it takes to see the whole story.”

    “Fewer have what it takes to help tell the whole story.” She was right though. Humans were stubborn and his halfling status did not make him any different. He, on more than one occasion, had suffered losing out on some opportunity or tidbit of knowledge because of his ‘my way or the high way’ mindset he found himself settling into far too often for his own liking. 

“I suppose all you can do is listen and hope that you’re capable of seeing it all.”

↪ @wretchedwrought​ asked;;  “ i couldn’t open that door. i couldn’t risk it.”

    He looked as if in search of  the very door that was spoken of...not pausing to consider first that perhaps it was a metaphorical statement rather than literal. “It’s the modern age, dear.” he gestured vaguely. 

“You can just pay people to open those doors for you now. Hell, technology has enabled just nearly the ability to function modernly without any interaction at all. There’s no need to open any doors when you can just have what’s outside them come to you. Little to no risk involved.”

misc sentence starters || accepting@wretchedwrought

“Something happy,” Souma repeated the phrase, nose wrinkled as if he’d smelled something putrid. He snorted, shook his head, and busied himself the padlock on one of the menagerie’s stables. Just beyond the small window of the stall was a shadowy figure, horned and lithe. It moved with the grace of a gazelle, but from shape alone was obviously something much grander. More ethereal. It remained pressed to the far corner of its confinement, shyly avoiding stepping into the light. It held one of its hind legs up tenderly. Wisps of fine, blue flames fanned out from a flowing mane that wrapped around its neck and trailed down its back. But it glowed only faintly. Like a candle at the end of its wick.