?? I lost a follower now that I’m back?
I’m surprised I didn’t lose followers while I was gone.
?? I lost a follower now that I’m back?
I’m surprised I didn’t lose followers while I was gone.
man it’s so hard to get back in to the swing of rp’ing when
you’ve been gone for a little while
He had only just proceeded upstairs for a brief change of attire-witch blood was not easy nor quick to get out of white clothing. And perhaps he had been at fault for leaving the door open, as Hansel was not expecting the sudden creak of the floorboards behind him announcing the presence of another, nor the sudden touch of fingertips upon his lower back. They were quick in their path, and the hunter was all too familiar with their route. Skin rippled in a shudder at the sensitive touch against the nevus. While not one of his more serious injuries, the witch hunter had not been so careless in watching his back after a crazed civilian managed to lacerate his skin with a knife.
Perhaps that was why he hesitated, but no sooner did the huntsman react, swiveling upon his heel and grabbing the stranger’s wrist to pull it roughly into an uncomfortable position. Eyes narrowed upon the unfamiliar face and digits tightened their hold.
Her whole life she had been schooled in the art of healing. Whether with magic or with herbs, she excelled with both. Upon learning that the brother of the famous witch hunting duo had obtained a nice little injury, the woman was quick to offer some medicinal assistance. She was no longer in the boyish garb she had been in when she made acquaintance with his sister, Gretel. With the bowl in one arm and a jug in the other hand, the woman had made her way to the room she was pointed to.
Upon seeing the lacerated back facing her, the native woman lingered for a moment. Scars of previous battles littered his skin, and fascination instantly sparked. Setting the jug down, her feet glided over the floor, a small creak echoing out. Within a second, her fingers were against his back, ever so gently roaming over the scars. His skin moved against her touch as her fingers danced dangerously close to the wound.
And then he had turned; so swiftly, though not so gallantly. His own fingers were tightened around her wrist, eyes staring down at her. A small breath was held on her part as she prayed he did not end her right then and there. A breach of privacy was his good reason for doing it, if he resorted. The woman stood her ground, but her gaze flicked to the side of his mouth, not exactly comfortable with looking him in the eyes.
“I was requested to help with your wounds.”
In her mind, she was silently thanking all the gods in the universe that her words did not come out jumbled and in disarray. It wasn’t always the easiest to learn another language.
Hansel & Clint;
(sagavenator) & (archerinthesky)
I’m writing to you both in one post because I’m short on time. Recently I have sent you both a meme to your ask, and you responded (which I am grateful for). I would very much like to respond to them in turn, but I am not a fan of reblogging asks. Therefor, I am asking if I may re-post your answers as a text, that way we can start a thread together. Please let me know~ Thanks!
Tony, Miss Scarlet, & Kate,
(ironmancandy) (missxscarlet) & (angelwithalongbow)
Tony and Miss Scarlet, I have had the desire to engage in a role-play with you both respectively ever since I’ve first followed you. Tony, you give me nostalgia for the threads I did with my own Tony before he disappeared six months ago. And while I do know and understand you are both two different role-players, I would still love to interact with you. Miss Scarlet, your style intrigues me, and I am drawn to you like no one else. I would love nothing more than to play with you.
Kate, we had a great thread going. I’m not sure if you wish to drop it or to start a new thread. All the AU’s and whatnot like we had previously discussed. Every time we start talking, we suddenly just stop all interactions, and it makes me incredibly sad. I still plan on becoming Spider-Woman, but for now, I have a deep desire to further interactions between Kate and Aradia. Kate is amazing, you are amazing, and I miss us. I am always available to play with you.
Now that he was standing, he had problems with his balance, but running hadn’t been one. Maybe if he just ran quickly enough.. No. That wouldn’t solve anything either, he was sure of that. His mind turned and twisted around the subject and while he was almost falling over himself, he felt a hand wrapping around his arm, and when he looked down, he saw her fingers on him, helping him to stay up.
He tried to settle into a better position, simply to make himself stable enough to at least stand. He blinked and watched her carefully, not sure if he should trust her or not. Clint hoped, hoped so badly that his hearing would come back, that he’d be able to hear again, because if not, he would have to give up his job. Or anything, really. How was he supposed to handle this?
When she tapped on the pad again, his gaze followed and he read the words slowly, brows narrowed. He then carefully took it from her to type himself, way slower than she was.
I need to get my ears checked. I don’t know how that happened. Can you help me?
He typed it slowly and then gave the pad back to her, hoping she could do something, anything.
As soon as the pad left her grasp, her hands folded over each other as she waited patiently. A small sense of pity for him washed over her, but she dashed them away. This man didn’t look like the sort that appreciated pity. And so she simply waited, her gaze watching his fingers as his motions were slower in typing. Then he held it back to her, and she took it. Flipping it around so she could read his response, she pondered in thought. So the hearing loss was infinitely more recent than she had originally thought.
He needed his ears to be checked. There wasn’t much she could do in that regard other than take him to the hospital. Or perhaps if he had is own doctor, she could take him there. It wasn’t wise to take him back to the Union base that was in this city; she would have a lot to explain to the higher ups. Most potential patients came to the Union with their handicap already known. But she knew they kept doctors on staff.
Then again, she could just check him herself. After all, she had been a doctor as well until she left S.H.I.E.L.D. Aradia let her mind kick back in to gear as she considered her options. First, she should check if he had his own doctor. If not, she would have to take him back with her to the Union NYC facility. Her fingers flew over the screen before she held it up for him.
Of course. Do you have a doctor? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?
Earnestly, Jack watched the necronite through the window as she started to come to. He wasn’t all that knowledgeable about humans and their health, but when those of flesh were happy and healthy, they certainly didn’t look like she did, eyes glazed and glossy, skin wet and clammy looking, to say nothing of her expression (pained? Nauseated? Jack wasn’t sure).
He saw her reach out and open the door, and paused feeling the water rush over his wooden feet. The Saw-horse gave an annoyed whinny, surprised at the sensation. “H-hello,” Jack said unsurely, trying to be friendly (and, of course, curious as to what was going on with this woman-in-a-box), but she seemed to be trying to get her bearings. He managed to step back a few awkward paces just as she made her way out of the car and onto the magic carpet on which they stood. She was…clearly not doing well. These were not actions and mannerisms of a healthy, happy fleshly being.
"If I didn’t know any better I’d say she’s drowned," the Saw-horse said warily, watching her.
Jack looked at him, surprised. “But she’s not in water anymore, how can she be?” Neither understood very much of actual death, as the magical land of Oz did not allow for such a situation, so the idea that drowning a person would kill them did not really occur to either of them. A person could be destroyed, but every piece of them would still contain life.
Still, being destroyed would be a terrible thing, and Jack gasped seeing how close this newcomer in Oz came to the edge of the carpet. Without thinking he stepped between her and the desert. “Wait! You mustn’t touch the sand!” he warned her earnestly. “This carpet is all that seperates you from turning into it yourself!” He was towering over her with his everpresent smile and seemed even taller with the parasol above them, his shadow covering her.
Pain was still radiating through her. Nausea. Her stomach clenching as it focused on coming back to life along with her other organs. Stiff muscles and movements. Almost like a zombie gathering its wits. In all honesty, she just believed she was having a hallucination. Or maybe just a really bad after-life dream that was lingering as her body struggled to wake back up after being drowned. As her hand unknowingly reached out towards the sand, the loud voice of the pumpkin jack-o-lantern rang against her ears.
She flinched from the sudden noise, coughing as the shadow fell over her. His words registered clearly, but her body barely wanted to respond. His moving between her and the unknown sand caused her to painfully shift herself so she was more on the carpet now. Turning in to sand? Like in the books she read once when she was little? What book was that… for the life of her she couldn’t remember.
All that mattered was gathering herself together again. A groan escaped her lips as she turned on to her back, one arm above her, the other laced across her stomach as she peered up blearily at the parasol that shielded her from the rays of the sun. This was just a dream, right? She was still dead, probably lodged at the bottom of whatever water trench she was thrown in to. She would wake up soon before drowning again.
What a way to spend the rest of your life, right? Waking up, drowning, waking up, drowning. Over and over and over until her fellow agents find her. That is, if they decided to. Was it a replacement gone wrong, or the making of the corporation she worked for? Lacey would never let them kill her… right? Aradia closed her eyes, her brows knitting together in a painful expression.
Realizing that the pumpkin person was still looming over her, Aradia opened her eyes again, flitting her gaze straight to it, him. She managed to croak out a question, her voice sounding as though she still had water in her throat. "Where am I?"
He right out shuddered, a sensory over load threatening to over take him. Her weight across his lap was becoming quite the prominent factor. His wrists chafed underneath the metal shackles pining him down (she’d been smart enough to avoid duck tape, and the amateur items like that). Then her lips brushed softly over his forehead, her long hair tickled at his face. Sylar closed his eyes, at the touch, forgetting to fight against it for a second as the warmth bloomed through him.
He could only imagine how this would all feel once she finally got down to it.
Then of course her little friendly slip of silver shimmied over a reminder of its existence. She crept along his tender neck, balancing expertly along the line of pleasure and pain. It was cold, and metal. A perfect knife. As his eyes remained closed he let his fantasies escape him.
How would that pretty little thing feel if she were to push just a smidgen further down. Cut open his jugular, released a flash flood of his blood on them both. How disgustingly glorious that would be. Disgusting. And glorious. His skin prickled in anticipation.
As a rule Sylar didn’t like being in a position of weakness. He didn’t like being restrained, and he certainly didn’t trust the drugs she’d stuck him with. But there was a possibility that things weren’t as bad as he’d initially assumed. He thought about pain what it meant to him, and what it meant to others. Inflicting it was fun, but receiving it… He’d laughed like a lunatic when golden boy Peter Petrelli ran him through with the nail gun, strung him out like Jesus Christ. Beat after beat of his clenched fist, and all Sylar could do was laugh like the wretch he was.
He almost missed that feeling. Lost in thought. He forgot to respond to the captivating woman sitting, nice and sweet on top of him.
Her gaze roamed his face, watching him quietly. His eyes closed, and he seemed to have drifted off to some other world. And for the moment, she allowed him that luxury. While the man had his thoughts to himself, the woman took the opportunity to explore just a bit more. The position she was in no longer seemed effective to her. Thus, she shifted until her legs were on either side of his thighs, in a straddling pose in his lap. Her fingers danced through his hair again, marveling at how soft it felt.
If neither of them were the killers they were born to be, she was sure she would have tried to pursue a more intimate relationship. Alas, she was not meant for such a thing, and whether this man tried, he wasn’t meant to have a treasure such as love in his life either. Both children of cruelty, of evil. Insanity. He had the powers most humans only read in stories and seen on the screens; she had the more simplistic powers of manipulation and a talent for torture.
Despite this, they were similar in the fact that they both took lives. Whether for pleasure or duty, they controlled every victim’s life that came across them. A low hum escaped her lips as she twirled a bit of dark strands in her fingers, then gripped his hair tightly and pulled his head back forcefully. Her fingers that held the scalpel dipped in again, piercing his skin even deeper, but not so much that it was a fatal cut. More just along the lines of sending a message through his nerves.
“Don’t go falling asleep on me, darling. I don’t want you to miss all the fun.”
Her lips were against his ear, brushing ever so gently against his skin. Her teeth latched on before biting down sharply on the lobe, dragging the scalpel down a bit more, a bit deeper. She could practically feel his blood leak out, flowing slowly, lightly, down his skin. One finger pushed gently against the cut, smearing the blood a bit.
He started off toward the back of the building, using the wall for support. As he hobbled along, he was making plans to fortify the stairway. Unbeknownst to him, he was speaking aloud, albeit very quietly. “Some stuff up there…we can barricade the door…”
Getting to the stairs was one matter. Getting up them would be more difficult, but he didn’t shy away from the task. If he’d had the luxury, he’d have taken his time climbing. But not knowing when the thugs would search this building meant he didn’t have the time to go slow. So, biting back the sounds of pain, he limped up them as quickly as he could.
At the top, there was some discarded construction equipment, including a length of PVC pipe, one end broken in a jagged line. He closed the door behind them and slid the pipe into the handle. “There,” he said softly, sinking down the wall again. “Won’t hold forever, but hopefully we won’t need it to.”
Aradia followed the stranger, the urge to just ditch him biting at her. She was endangering herself by being around him. She could have easily escaped and been long gone by now, leaving him to deal with the angry drug mobsters that were currently seeking her out. But no, for some reason unbeknownst to herself, she was helping this young fool. He was hurt, he was probably high on drugs and therefor quite useless to her.
He seemed to know these buildings better than she did, and could have found shelter himself if he wanted to. But he begged her to take him with her. For some reason. She inwardly facepalmed, holding back an irritated groan. He led her to an empty room, though extremely slowly. Go figure, as he was injured.
As the male pushed a line of pipe in to the handle to keep it locked, she watched as he slid down the wall to the floor. Maybe she should just off him now, and spare him the agonizing pain of recovery and whatever shit life he was living right now. God, when did she become so heartless? Aradia moved to him, kneeling in front of the boy. “You gonna be okay to get back downstairs?”
Lelouch followed in suit closely behind her but not too close to raise suspicion. No, he followed a few yards behind her. No doubt that she already knew that he was following her, no one was that stupid. And this woman was definitely not stupid. However, to say he was confused when he found himself in a park was an understatement. What the hell was she doing here?
Curiousness had gotten the best of him as he perched behind a tree, in hopes to stay out of her line of sight. His eyes narrowed when he saw her messing around with her bag. At this distance he couldn’t see was she was rummaging around. Lelouch merely was getting curiouser and curiouser. If that was a bad thing or not, he would soon find out. But as they say: Curiosity killed the cat.
Aradia was quick to pick her poison and cover the needle with it. Then she spread some poison mixed lotion on the top of her hand above a layer of synthetic skin. All in the covering of her bag, in case someone had happened to walk by. She could feel the boy watching her still, but didn’t bother to try and scope him out. Taking the needle from her bag, disguised as a nail filer, she leaned back against the bench, checking her watch again. He should be here soon, which left her with some time to spare. The plan on how to poison the target was already figured out.
And as if on cue, the target appeared. Right on time. Aradia was on her feet in an instant, swaying her hips in a sensual manner as she made her way next to the man. He stopped, she batted her eyelashes as she pulled out a pamphlet from her bag. She leaned in dangerously close to him, playfully touching his arm as she offered a wink. He smiled, he leaned in, wrapping a hand around her hips for a moment.
A giggle here, a chuckle there. She held up her hand, he took it and pressed a kiss right to the poisoned spot. Her other hand slid to the back of his neck as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then they parted ways, Aradia discreetly depositing the nail filer in her bag. Peeling the square of fake skin off her hand, she perched herself back on the bench and gave a small wave in the air, as if motioning for Lelouch to come out of his hiding spot and join her.
The man continued to scream as Aradia tortured him further. Vara eagerly watched on as she began probing the man’s muscles. She uncrossed her legs and walked over to her case. “I have some wire. WIll that suffice?” She asked as she pulled out a spool of thin wire and offered it to Aradia. “Anything else you require while I’m over here?” She asked, her eyes taking in the tremble of the man’s muscles.
Fingers plucked the spool from the other woman. She shook her head before putting the bud back in to her ear. She hummed softly to the music as she felt along the chains that held the man up. The chains shifted before lowering the victim, his knees touching to the ground. Aradia quickly grabbed a spare chair, placing it before the man and sitting down. One hand dipped under his chin, forcing his head up to look at her.
His gaze averted quickly, though she didn’t care. Her hand left his chin, his head falling back down. It was evident the poison was doing its work, and though she loved to hear her victims voice their pain, right now she wanted him to work for the luxury of his voice. With a quick movement, Aradia threaded her needle with the wire.
Once done, she crossed her ankles and gripped the mans chin once more. Leaning in, she pressed the tip to the bottom of his lip. Realizing what she was going to do, the man jerked his head back, or at least tried. Fingers digging painfully in to his cheek, Aradia forced his head back to its position, narrowing her eyes. He didn’t try again. Pressing the needle back to his lip, she pushed it through. His mouth opened to yell, but she squeezed his jaw.
The needle moved up, and then down in a slow, languid motion as the woman sewed the mans mouth closed. Blood dribbled down his chin, his eyes hazy as though he were going to pass out. Tying the string off at the end, she sat back and marveled at her sewing handiwork. It was going to be fun to watch him work on ripping the wire from his mouth. Pulling one of the buds out again, she addressed the other woman in the room without looking for her.
“Lady Vara. Should I do his eyes too? Or maybe just one eye.”