THE HOUNDS ARE AT THE DOOR [ 🗝️ ] an independent and private multimuse blog featuring characters from literature, television, film, mythology, and original lore ꩜ primarily fantasy-based ━ matriculated by corazón, she/they, 21+
house of lethe members: ¹ centurion: yharnum ² oculus: exitveloꜝ ³ virgil: cautionarys
𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 ꜝ the rebel with a cause, broken-haloed saints, the artifice of perfection, doomed love, subverting and challenging ones destiny , music as a haunting, & sudden death of innocence . . .
magnus bane, the shadowhunter chronicles ( NOT canon compliant anti-cc )
rafayel ( qi yu ), love & deepspace
shadowheart, bg3
terry mcginnis, batman beyond
∿ private
moon dong-eun, the glory
∿ on hiatus
cardan greenbriar, the folk of the air
∿ voicetesting
davina claire, the originals ( headcanon-based ) / helena bertinelli ( huntress ) , dc comics / nico robin ( miss all sunday ), one piece live action / posy li, bridgerton / absolute zatanna, dc comics
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☽ ◯ ☾, something clear and merciless, like glass or a scream〈 or the first morning of an unwanted resurrection 〉a highly selective and private blog for shadowheart jenevelle hallowleaf from baldur's gate 3 / not fandom affiliated * ( headcanon & alternate universe heavy blessed by corazón
many favoured her looks upon sight, [a drow! enticing enough by virtue of being one, that elicit curiosity for her kind] yet her shameless proclivities and habits would oft see them turn away, or become hostile entirely. the shrewd merchant, hoarding that silly painter, had been one keen example. there is then truth to his words which she is too stubborn to outright admit to, & so she turns her head away from him, crossed arms at her chest, pondering the dripping rivulets of a weak leakage.
it was a habit she could trace to her time in baldur’s gate. a sharp-eyed pickpocket taking her chance when she could, knowing reluctance was only a sure-fire way of getting caught. that was what kiwi had taught her, anyhow.
but this was not baldur’s gate. the wilderness seemed less interested in appreciating quiet deception & stealth. more terrible was its complete disregard for gold.
❛ oh, you have lost your mind then. ❜ she turned her chin back up, a puff of breath. her fingertips brushed his jaw, as if to cup his face lovingly before she flatly turned his whole face away. ❛ my only view is your backside meeting the dust— ❜ jostling one another, her limbs lithe where his were strong, yet for the life of her she could not reconcile it to his tenderness. the same hands bloodied from killing cupped her cheeks, turned her eyes to the painter. words whispered at her ear, until her pupils were slitted with opportunistic cunning. ❛ oh. ❜
❛ hmph. so you can be a little bit clever. ❜ what he didn’t know was this, that she would have him carry the bulk of it than leave a single one behind. close & biting down her smile, she lets their heads brush together momentarily. ❛ perhaps the merchants near the groove will take them off our hands. come on. ❜ catching his hand, with a flicker of a smirk, she lugs him after herself towards the throes of now homeless paintings.
a novelty, unlike the knight. in truth if they had any idea of the weight of his identity this lot in particular would attempt to hold him for ransom ( which might seem a clever idea at the time ) but less once they became aware of just what kind of king they would be contending with. all around he stands back when charm is required, they much prefer her star-seeped hair and dusky complexion over the brute force of his height and presence. although, it did have its uses for what came after the sweet-talking failed.
❛ have you not had your fill of combat already? want round two so soon… very lively today, aren't we? ❜ squabbling with him, a petty resistance which unfolds only because he is amused with her bouts of retaliation. a prodding was still a touch and a slap on the wrist, a kiss of another kind.
when she relents she is rewarded with another brush of his lips this time against the side of her head. undeterred by the rusted gore that clung to strands this way and that. it wasn't as if he was in any better of a state.
❛ only reason you haven't stuck me to a web and eaten for dinner already. am i earning my keep or not? ❜ not that she hadn't tried that already, not that he would be completely opposed to a situation of this sort. except it didn't bode well for their travels, mobility was often essential for that. rare praise which would have him preening even if he weren't already being dragged forward already being put to work. tying together three of the canvasses, not ideal but it would do until they returned to camp. strapping the paintings to his back, they would have to mind the blood stains lest they turn a tale about artistic expression and the usage of such a color to arrive there.
❛ they better or you're going to make me lug these all the way to rivington for the best price. ❜ which was highly likely given the state of panic in the grove, but there was always someone with two much coin in their pocket and something to prove. he liked their odds even if they were so often stacked against them.
her scoff is astounded, her spider-long fingers plucking muddied rot from her pale hair. she makes a face at the result; his work this time, a protective bolt of fire to keep the crazed little beast from tearing its claws into her back. heart still racing in her ribs, a tandem that was mimicked by her underlings— they skittered nervously around those horrid remains. at least for now, they all had this well-earned peace, however brief it was as the crew attempts to reassemble itself. ❛ you’ve lost your mind perhaps. ❜ she is unhappy and filthy. a drow’s mouth is never kind, least of all one kept from her tidiness. yet his mouth comes down sweet to her temple, as if no amount of gore would prickle him. an innate lack of decorum! to kiss her now as if they were not wildly unprepared for these wild woods.
❛ what have i done now, that you’re maddened? mustn’t have taken much, you’re hardly sane even without me. ❜ she folds her arms, then reconsiders; her fingers instead snake into his armour, [a warmer place to keep her cold drow hands.] ❛ i’m tired, love; and those filthy cowards hardly left us a dime. ❜ so much for this treasured fortune. half-way running from a fight before one of them had been shot through the skull.
lips grace the pale plum of her skin, her cheek stone cold beneath his smile and yet he is undeterred. by both the inhospitable terrain of her face or the hostile manner in which she recounts their trials. if losses were measured in blood then he was the most sorry sod of them all with his gore ridden vestments which had been charred away at the fringes. yet they had lived, she lived so the struggle was not all for naught. even if the camp had swiftly turned on their company after a showing of her insistent fingertips. crawling ahead of her companions, her spider-light steps, silk-imbued footfalls that should have carried her beyond notice if not for the wolves waiting just around the bend. ❛ you may have your coin, my lady ━ but must you rush in before me every time to get it? would it not be pleasing enough for you to collect from a safer distance. you might even find the view more appealing. ❜ eyebrows raise, further invitation for ogling which was quite the suggestion to make when appearing both battered and bruised.
❛ you know, there are other ways to come by gold that don't call for corpse robbing. ❜ fingers clasping around her chin, guiding her gaze in the direction of where their down-on-his-luck painter once stood. while the artist had long since fled the scene his landscapes remained, untouched by the chaos of battle. ❛ how do you figure? it could be considered a masterwork if we give them a good enough story. ❜ mouth moving over the dagger-tip of her ear where he conspires with her in hush against the curved cartilage.
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a hundred questions linger on all their minds, he’s sure. accept for luffy, who was somehow content with his trust rather than prodding curiosity. sanji couldn’t mould himself the same way; he craved knowing more about her, every precious mystery that had led her here, and the challenges he knew they would face as a team when they were gifted the privilege of a new friend. it took time to discern their tastes, their habits, what ticked them off & what consoled their quiet hurts. that chopper had taken a quick liking to her wasn’t as telling as the fact that nico robin had just as quickly taken a liking to their small friend. she was the protective sort, yet quiet and careful. though that was hardly surprising he imagined, after so long living in the shadow of a crocodile’s temper and teeth. he thought, he could understand that.
❛ don’t worry darling. ❜ a smile, bright and even, that she had indulged the humour further rather than close in on herself. that was good, a good sign indeed— it was these brief moments he had a chance to speak openly too, when frequently sanji was below board in the kitchen rather than up where the sails were free. ❛ i’ll pair it with a spanakopita just for you. ❜ it was less of a challenge & more of an opening. she did not want to close him out, and he softened, wondering when the last time someone had cooked her a thought out meal for her comfort rather than — what did boroque works even serve, besides heads on a platter? distasteful in their detachment, colourless apathy, more decor than meaning.
as he’d anticipated, she is in the balancing act of making up for lost time and indulging the freedom to do so by her own free will. he grins a little in sympathy; [he understood that too], being able to afford getting lost in his craft outside of zeff’s kitchen had been intoxicating for weeks. ❛ better in moderation, hear me? you’ll have a sharper mind with this, ❜ a gesture at the tea cup, then a tap along his temple. ❛ and sleep. ❜ when a hand slips across his chest pocket, he looks momentarily startled; eyebrows shot up, eyes wide & curiously acknowledging the prying fingers slinking the cigarette casing over the table. laughing, she’s got him there. ❛ and— that. good point. ❜ never one to mince words or seconds over this, he pulls out the match-box, swipes the bulb against his teeth, and lights her cigarette first. then his own, before shaking the fire out.
❛ i think this makes us best friends. nice t‘meet you — so, what are all these fancy ancient scriptures telling us today? ❜
their captain hadn't informed the rest of the crew of her impromptu rescue in alabasta. allowing each straw hat to pass judgement as they saw fit without the knowledge that he lived still only by her mercy ( or perhaps he would have lived regardless, he wasn't the quitting kind ) while her motives had not been the most altruistic, in that moment she simply wished to see the look on crocodile's face when he was bested. her lifelong scheme finally met its fruition in ways no amount of planning could have accounted for. ending in absence instead of fulfillment. enough uncertainty to cast her lot in with who had been considered her enemy which wasn't a very exclusive classification. anyone who wasn’t nico robin herself was considered a potential threat. except she did not feel at risk here, not quite at ease, but a tenuous shade of peace.
❛ are we playing favorites already? what will the rest of the crew think? ❜ surely such a choice would put him at odds with the swordsman who had not been overly fond of admittance ( he was the first mate, it was his role to be critical where luffy wasn’t ) nearly recruited by baroque works himself, he knew how a hitwoman acted and thought. thus his wariness of her was not taken with any true offence. the chef on the other hand appeared to have made up his mind much quicker than his companions. for what reason she could not be certain yet she intended to find out. a plan assisted by the simple fact that he didn’t seem to be bad company at all. ❛ i thought chopper was the doctor around here. something tells me you aren't the most qualified to be giving medical advice. ❜ was that a hint of worry she detected in his tone? how rare and strange,
if she were anyone else she might have apologized for the invasion of personal space but it is too much a part of her. the devil fruit’s effects were robin, every meandering hand, every deft fingertip. he gratifies her vice in turn as she leans into the open flame ( a criminal showing her throat willingly ) risky business to be had. ❛ proving me right so soon. ❜ inhaling to ignite the stick, she smiles and smoke escapes through her teeth. craning his neck over her spread of ink, paper, and stone. a hand arrives by her side to hold the cigarette for her as she runs her fingers along the chiseled symbols. ❛ poneglyphs, dangerous little things. there's a reason most of the people who used to be able to read them are no longer with us. ❜ she does not admit that those very people had been her family but she pauses just long for her mind to snag on a memory.
❛ most of it is lost history, scattered across islands. i intend to be the one to piece it all together. ❜ there it was, her own grand plan – it became entirely obviously why she had been allowed on board and offered a place. another impossible dreamer with a longing vast enough to fill the five seas. ❛ but maybe that's a bit too ambitious of a task for tonight. ❜
08. pulling them into a tight hug. nami and robin <3
years spent fighting with flourish, it had been some time since she returned to basics. after fleeing ohara she could simply use her devil fruit powers unwittingly, nor had she been in full control of her capabilities at the time. hand-to-hand combat had been her primary point of defense if she could help it ( only ever calling upon her infinity of appendages when the situation proved to be life or death ) often it did, and then she would be chasing the horizon to the next refuge. baroque works had been that fortress for her the last four years, hidden in plain site amongst the ranks of absurdity. nico robin was simply another exotic flower in a jungle of many. somehow they had plucked her from the fray or rather she begged to be picked. when her life's work descended into dust just as her former boss had.
so they are evenly matched, at least for today. sparring with a staff alone across the deck of the ship. nami's style was that of trickery, a thief's favored form of combat. a style fit for a pirate, those without honor unless it was in regards to one another. ❛ use that mind of yours. devil fruit users are too cocky for their own good, myself included. ❜ one developed a reliance on the brute strength of their power, she had scars all along her palms to prove just where her ego had gotten her. they were not invincible even if their captain certainly narrowly escaped death enough times to make one believe otherwise. landing a kick just shy of her neck, it makes contact with her shoulder instead but the force behind it has the former assassin staggering back.
❛ touché, you can best them with wit or even use their strengths against them. ❜ a lesson @exitvelo had been quick to learn even before robin had ever stepped foot on the going merry as a friend rather than a foe. right when she begins to call the match an elbow catches her just below the ribs. air deflating from her lungs, a strategic attack, as it would force her to steady her breath first before retaliating. ❛ playing dirty, i see. you win this one. ❜ pulling herself up to her full height she is struck by a sudden warmth. the pressure of two arms looping around her midsection and pulling her closer. in spite of who was on the other end of the contact her body does go rigid by learned instinct. then easing, gradually, not quite embracing but she lets herself be held which is a feat in and of itself. ❛ ah, you're welcome. it’s the very least i could do. ❜
happy spring belovedsss! i passed out mad early last night and didn't get any writing done but i play on fixing that today if i can find time between work tasks <3 also gonna try to make an appearance on @nightorne at some point soon. hope you guys are enjoying the weather my northeasterners
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why yes the body horror of robin's devil fruit powers but also the forced intimacy of it. it may seem like she is removed from the actions of each of her disembodied limbs but it is confirmed that robin feels EVERYTHING in each appendage she manifests. while actions may be carried out at range really there is no distance between her and violence she commits or the the violence that is committed towards her. she HAS to get her hands dirty in every fight, she pulls the trigger, she rips out hearts, she is the one throwing the punch every single time. combat with her is intimate due to the very tactile nature of her fighting style.
it also means that she has grown used to touch strictly as a precursor to to combat, a precursor to pain. tender touch to her always comes with the inherent threat of brutality beneath it. when she joins the straw hats it's truly the first time she uses her abilities for something other than protecting herself. she leans into the absurdity of it, she plays jokes, she tickles the younger crew members, she holds hands and fixes clothes from her seat at the table. she begins to risk proximity and not think twice about it.
the mouth of the tea cup steamed contently. a rich burgundy swirl with a golden tint; that was the honey, exactly half a tea spoon dissolved within the crushed flavour of hibiscus petals. healing properties aside, a book about herbal remedies had informed him that the flower-tea proved efficient for skin health and blood pressure as well. a glance at the hot skyline, their dire escapes, & the state of affairs regarding their new crew-mate, he had decided this would prove an excellent first gift for none other than nico robin. that it was a plant also home to her island was another benefit, a curt nod that these things would not be taken for granted — her past, her skill and beauty, and most of all her worth, that would not sway their captain nor them from accepting her. sanji himself had been the first to voice his vote on her admittance, anyway.
maybe it was the reluctant look about her face, the flatness to her eyes, an early preparation for apathy that could not disguise the despair beneath— whatever it had been, he had recognised it, felt a hopeless need to gamble for her good graces.
he wants it to feel less like an offering she might not be use to or wholly comfortable with and more like— a conversation. two mugs, & he takes a seat across her table. the room smells immediately of cooked hibiscus, tangy and sweet and very pink-red. she jokes about poison and he watches her for a quiet moment, gauging something far away, before his mouth twitches towards a smile. ❛ why miss robin! that’s a foul thing to suggest. ❜ hand over his throat and everything, he frowns sharp and supposedly unamused. with the tea cups, he had brought little spoons too. he stirs his own before following along, taking a sip. ❛ that a cook like myself would ever confuse a palette like that. poison’s better with cilantro anyways. ❜ here, he cracks a smile.
the familiar whirring of laughter that so often follows the straw hats. eventually his brows soften, and he hesitates if only to figure out the right thing to say. ❛ don’t you think you ought to get some rest? i mean, no one expects you to work this late. ❜ which was to say, she hadn’t a single thing to make up for, she was one of them already.
quite the researcher in his own right. food being its own realm of science, one that was entirely lost upon the archaeologist. the culinary arts did not mingle well with a life on the run, yet he had seemed to manage ( perhaps he would understand after he got saddled with his own bounty, which was sure to be soon ) their captain had a flare for daring schemes, a quick and fast way to gain the ire of the marines. high risk, high reward he was gambling man. it was possibly the only trait he had in common with crocodile. sanji on the other hand, was so unlike her former employer and colorful colleagues that it gave the woman genuine pause. miss wednesday had been the only bleeding-heart of the bunch and she hadn't even truly been one of theirs. a staggering sort of trust, the very kind that pulled the balance out right from under one's feet.
in any other environment she would have scrutinized such certainty but the going merry operated under its own laws entirely. although, even if she did not act on her doubts here it didn't mean they were dashed in their entirety.
while spoken in jest it was in truth the first time she had received a drink from any man without meeting the presentation with outright refusal. rewarded for her trust with a relishing of the botanical, nostalgia on her tongue the very instant the heat settled there ( he was good, very good ) placing down the mug momentarily yet her hands still remained around the circumference of it. ❛ oh, that sounds earthy, it might be nice. maybe we try that next? i'm not going anywhere. ❜ astonishingly she meant it too, surely the location of the one piece and the uncovering of the void century would bring them around the world and back. ❛ no one, except myself. i have a lot of lost time to make up for... ❜ glancing down at the tablets she had gathered, fragments of poneglyphs set besides her neat scrawl. barely a dent made into the current transcription.
❛ you know what might help me get to sleep, though ━ ❜ since they were in the spirit of showing this evening her devil fruit unveils itself with a whisper of petals. a hand manifests along the edge of his breast pocket, fingers digging around until a pack of cigarettes is wrestled out of the fabric. the carton is tossed onto the table between them before she recalls the extra appendage. ❛ one of these, care to join me? ❜ tea and smoke seemed the perfect dessert to her.
