Quoth the Kraven

Elizabeth C. Kraven - Fandomless OC - Loved by PJ [MUTUALS ONLY - SELECTIVE] 

[archaievist]

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Elizabeth Kraven | | Bookstore Owner | | Decendant of the Fae | | Fandomless OC

Loved by PJ (they/them)

[mr-vvick]

[ WOUND ]:          upon noticing a recent injury on the receiver’s person, the sender carefully moves closer, running a thumb (or hand) across the wound in a gentle, troubled manner.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐎 👀.

John felt exhausted. His eyelids grew heavy and fighting the oncoming sleep had become impossible. Just for a moment he told himself before giving in.

A moment passed or several hours, he never heard someone approach and kneel beside him. @archaievist 's hand found his side first, tracing slowly along the wounded edge. It was careful, like she was afraid of what she'd find.

That was what woke him. His eyes snapped open and the gun was already pressed against her jaw before the rest of him caught up.

"I thought you were... Shit. Sorry."

[archaievist]

That was her fault.

Eliza knew she made a mistake the moment she touched him. "No, no. I should have known better given your....profession." Gently, she moves the gun away.

"Now, can I take a look at that?" She gestures towards the gash on his side.

[piperafterdark]

[ food ] sender brings food over to receiver's house

PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE

The door opens automatically when Eliza shows up considering Piper has already given the woman full access to her admittedly shitty apartment. But hey, that's what friends do. It's for the best, too, considering the fact that Piper is currently nursing a broken knee.

She looks up from her magazine when Eliza enters the small flat and drops the printed paper to the couch.

"Choom, god am I glad to see you. Two weeks off my feet, can you believe it? I'm dying here." For company, mostly, but also- "woah what'd you bring over? It smells great."

[archaievist]

"Yes, I can believe it," she sets the dish down, "I can believe it because I told you that jump was too far, but did you listen to your doctor? No."

Eliza shakes her head but even she knows that Piper wouldn't have listened to her regardless. "It's soup," she opens the dish to reveal a steaming broth. She makes her way to the kitchen to look for a bowl.

[archaievist]

"They burn books now like they burned witches. I've seen both pyres, and it fills me with grief. I see myself in that fire, and I wonder just how loud art should bleed before people will listen. My music falls on deaf ears. The pages of this little shop of yours? Please. Blind eyes run over them. Commodity enemy of Culture."

Eliza softly shakes her head, not looking at him. "The arts, no matter the era, have always been maligned in one way or another. Actors used to not be able to enter churches cause they were seen as 'immoral' simply because of their profession."

She takes another sip of her whiskey, "But the right people find us, always have."

[archaievist]

Just cleaned out my following list. I want to be more present on here but looking at everything and everything going on in my life makes it overwhelming.

I'm going to start slow, try and work through drafts. If you want to start something new hit me up.

-PJ

[anotherrpmemeblog]

Send my muse a wet dream and they will rate it on how they wake up:

1. Discomfort/Disgusted 2. Confused/Uncomfortably aroused 3. Slightly aroused 4. Very aroused 5. Had an orgasm in their sleep

[doctordread]

business partner was rather fond of wasting his money on lavish events such as this one. while he often kept adelaide out of the greater public eye, not even jack grimm could stop the woman from prowling the grounds.

❝ where's the fun in bein' here if y'ain't gonna' dance? ❞ a sweeping bow is offered first, followed by the tipping of her hat and the offering of a hand. she smiles. toothy, stretched. ❝ allow me, darlin'. i can lead, y' jus' gotta' watch y'er footin'. i ain't bite. 'less y' want me t'. ❞

[archaievist]

She wasn't used to big parties like this. But when you get an invitation it's rude to turn it down. Besides, the person who gave her the invitation she would love to have more one-on-one time with.

"Normally I lead, but it seems today is a day for new experiences," she takes Adelaide's hand. "And maybe I wouldn't mind a little bite," she smirks.

[doctordread]

⤷ ゛@archaievist : eliza is looking at her, swinging her feet with interest.

wasn't she just a doll.

it'd been adelaide who suggested eliza work alongside her, taken under the doctor's wing since her hiring at ark m. the place was quite overwhelming, you see, needed a steady hand to keep any new employees grounded while they acclimated.

it'd been obvious to any of her co-workers with a functioning brain why, exactly, she'd taken to eliza so swiftly; why, the woman was gorgeous. big green eyes, silken ginger hair. adelaide found herself taken on appearance alone, their first formal introduction beginning with a taking of the land and the planting of a kiss 'pon fingers.

this infatuation appeared to ebb both ways. young miss kraven, wrapped 'round her sickeningly skinny finger. sometimes, it felt too easy ... winning the confidence of another, it should take longer. adelaide did have a certain charm.

❝ y'er notes, my dear ❞ her ever present toothy smile stretches wide, pen slid across desk towards Eliza 'til their digits forcibly touch. obviously purposeful, brushing contact. ❝ listenin' so good, y' forgot t' take 'em. ❞

[archaievist]

Being next to Adelaide made her feel like a schoolgirl again. During their first meeting she'd made quite the impression upon her, treating her like a proper lady. Even now a light blush dances upon her pale cheeks.

"Hm?" Eliza looks up, having been lost in thought. "Oh, yes," she laughs. She waits just a moment longer that what would be considered appropriate between coworkers before taking the pen. "My bad, you are just...very compelling."

[hell-bound]

@archaievist | continued.

Seeing the Entity's influence drain from the Faerie's eyes only stokes the flames of hope within Vittorio's breast. He struggles for a moment in her hold, only to free his neck and arms from her verdant tendrils.

Of course, there's no way for her to know that he's been here since before she was a twinkle in her sire's eye. Before her family so much as found the land that would one day become their estate. Before her language was even conceived. He'd seen many souls buckle under the pressure the Entity exuded from its lofty place on high -- some survivors, some killers.

Trembling from instinctual terror which screamed at him to flee, to fight back, to do anything but speak calmly, he steels himself to do exactly that.

"Maybe I don't. But I would like to." Hands raised in a sign of surrender, he sticks, as he always does, to his principles before his own desire to stay alive. "You are in control here. It's your choice. It's always a choice."

[archaievist]

She's in control? A strained laugh comes from her mouth. "And what sort of choice do I have? What control? The only thing that has control here is the thing that brought us here." The vines lower him to the ground and release him.

"I don't know who you are, and my memory of this will probably be fuzzy at best or gone at worst, but my choice is meaningless when I have my mind and body taken from me."

Her eyes are sad as she regards him, "I don't want this."

[archaievist]

• It's just... I've never had this before. People who stay.

The words hit her like an ice pick in her heart. Eliza takes Mason's hand in hers, squeezing it tight.

"Well I'm not going anywhere," she says with a small smile, "I promise."

[hell-bound]

From within the locker, a wet gurgle reaches out through the slats in the doors. The Dredge is far from accustomed to visitors -- on the contrary, her assessment of it, too, was accurate. Having been formed from a congregation of fear and misery, loneliness is just as much part of its makeup as the rest.

Just as it embodies such emotions, so too must it feed upon them.

The doors to the locker crack open, slowly, only mere inches, revealing nothing of the darkness within. Then, a tiny hand pokes out from the recess within, palm upturned to the sky.

Give us something. Something good, it seems to mime.

[archaievist]

With the creak of the locker door her head snaps back to where the creature is hiding. She bends down, trying to peer inside until that small hand peaks out.

"Oh! You want something?" Perhaps it's hungry? Does she have anything on her? Eliza pats herself for a moment before realizing she does not have her purse on her and frowns. What could she give it?

She bends down and coaxes a mushroom from the soil. "Here," she places it in the small hand and closes it, "do you like that?"

[nctmnstr]

@archaievist asked:

[ change ] sender helps receiver change out of bloodied clothes.

🐊 -- A sigh as his button up was peeled off of his side, the blood sticky and dried to his scales. There was a rather nasty gash in his side this time, one that was already starting to heal itself.

"S'fine." He murmured as Eliza peered at his wound, hand shifting with a grunt to cover it with that massive hand of his. "It'll heal."

[archaievist]

"It's not fine," she mutters while inspecting the damage. "And while yes, it will heal, that doesn't mean you have to suffer in the meantime."

"Now hush and let me clean this up."

[hell-bound]

"Ah-ha--!"

With a bit of a pleasant surprise, Dr. Carter eases down into the seat provided for him once it becomes clear that sitting is not a mere suggestion. He spends a lot of time on his feet anyway, and orthopedic shoes worth any real usage wouldn't be invented for another 10-20 years after his abduction into this happy little realm. Crossing his legs ankle-to-knee, he wastes no time at all in assuming a classic, Freudian pose.

With his fingers steepled, he cants his head to one side and lets his ever-present grin speak for itself for a moment.

"Curious about me? Why, I'm an open book, Ms. Kraven. I was the top of my class in a university where I was the first black student to attend. I worked for the CIA for a time -- unfortunately I can't disclose those activities, however. I gave them my word, after all."

He would break that promise for a soda pop. The government meant, and continues to mean, nothing to him. But dear Eliza needn't know that.

"And I'm afraid that's everything of note. Like I said, I've got nothing to hide."

On the contrary. He has entire filing cabinets in his realm full to the brim with secrets. Not all of which pertain solely to matters before the Entity.

His sore muscles lean into the grin on his face.

He loves lying.

[archaievist]

The redhead has never been fond of the government, nor people who work for them. It tends to attract a certain type of person. But maybe it's that fae love of fascinating people that let's that slide.

"I see, very impressive," she leans back in her own chair. It's hard for her to get a read on him, most likely due to the impossible smile on his face. "Oh doctor, everyone has something to hide," she laughs. "But regardless, you shared something it's only polite that I do the same."

"So, what did you want to know?"

[eladead]

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜ 

&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.‧. . ......OPEN!

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: "This isn't the first time." Lestat wipes his bloodied mouth, sporting a torn shirt and a pair of expensive trousers that barely hold to his waist. He has gone through a cheese grater, or a shredder, or, most likely here, an unfortunate run in with vampires who chant the name of the Maker. Armand has that effect on people. Rolling his eyes, the rockstar sits down on the closest chair he can, moving his eyes about to notice the surroundings.

"What a mess, he mutters."

[archaievist]

"Clearly," she says, eyeing the scars that are already on his chest. Eliza gathers her first aid kit from behind her desk and gets to work. "And am I going to find out what happened to you? Since you dragged yourself into my shop I think I'm owed at least that."

"Here," she has a bottle of disinfectant and a swab in her hand. "For your own sake I suggest you don't move."

[hell-bound]

@archaievist

"why are you following me?"

With downward fingers steepled in its lap, the Priest regards Kraven unwaveringly. Unblinkingly. It seems quite out of place on the edge of her little pocket of the Entity's multidimensional belly -- like a stain, in fact. Forged materials like black leather and pearl-tipped pins clash harshly with the verdant surroundings. But the creature does not relent.

It is, after all, helplessly bound to the object the Faerie holds in her hands -- a not entirely new development from its previous incarnation under Leviathan. Except now, it feels like an errand, not a glorious exaltation of agonizing ecstasy. A chore-like fuck with no orgasm in sight.

In the Priest's own realm, the Entity made the barest of efforts to supply it with enrichments suited for its nature. Skinless, writhing bodies screamed, copulated, and suffered bondage for time immemorial upon the many walls and floors of the counterfeit labyrinth. But they are only memories. Not fresh, wet flesh.

"You have something that belongs to us -- " It trails off, disposition momentarily wavering. "...To me."

Pausing, it outstretches one hand, elbow relaxed.

"Return the box."

[archaievist]

Eliza looked down at the metallic box in her hand. She had found it during her most recent trial just...there. The killer had felt a pull toward it, like it was calling to her in some secret language; like a dog with a dog whistle.

She saw no harm in picking it up and taking it with her to examine later.

Of course she couldn't have predicted that this...individual would follow her back to her lush abode. Well, if this box belonged to it then best to give it back; this box is not worth a fight.

"Here," she holds it out, "I apologize. I had no idea it belonged to someone."

Green eyes narrow slightly while looking at the box, "Would you mind telling me what it is?"

[hell-bound]

@archaievist

"Now I see you."

Many killers became somewhat ghostly after enough time spent in the Entity's realm, haunting their respective locations almost as if they could not leave. The Dredge, however, was different. When its lonely, old Victorian lie empty except for itself, the starvation would set in. The deep, cloying hunger that totally eclipsed every other need -- visceral, primal, instinctual.

So it wandered. Moving from shadow to shadow to siphon what delicious threads of fear, doubt, and pain it may find lingering in miserable souls between trials. Presently, it inhabited an otherwise empty locker, tucked between the broad trunks of two trees, situated on the outer rim of the Faerie's haunt.

As she addressed it, the Dredge let out an abrupt, but quiet symphony of moaning and screaming, startled to have been detected.

With one of its smaller, more dexterous hands, it slowly opened the locker doors from within to take a peek at its discoverer. It breathed in her emotions, probing for something to eat. But it found only curiosity. A desire to nurture. Loneliness.

It slammed the locker doors and hissed a collection of baleful cries.

You didn't see anything, lady. There is absolutely nothing inside this locker.

[archaievist]

The old Victorian house was a personal favorite realm of hers, reminding her of her own childhood home. That's where she had first seen it. Only a shadow at the time, but she knew it had to be another one of the killers.

She didn't mean to startle the poor thing, but she couldn't help but address it. Her head cocks to the side to try and get a better look at it before it slams the door.

Eliza can't help but laugh, "Oh, don't be like that. I mean you no harm." What it detected was correct, she was very lonely and seeing such a creature did bring out her nurturing instincts. Perhaps it was lonely too?

[hell-bound]

@archaievist

"What are you looking for?"

Since the inclusion of the Faerie to their happy little family of murderers and ne'er-do-wells, Dr. Carter had carefully kept a record of her. Of course, he did this for all the specimens which shared his little pocket of paradise, but the supernatural had, ever since his own arrival, become somewhat of a special interest of his. In life, before the Entity, everything was cut-and-dry. Empirical. Scientific.

Not so much when it came to specimens which defied science -- the Faerie, the Artist, et cetera. His discomfort had, like a piece of coal under immense pressure, rendered a diamond. And with that sparkling new perspective, his obsession reignited.

"Just you, madam."

His words were crackled in ambient static, not spoken with a voice. Like a man speaking over an old radio set. As he spoke, his permanent grin did not falter one iota.

"Can you fault a man for his scientific curiosity?"

Charming, well-spoken, believable. Entirely non-genuine.

[archaievist]

It's rare that other killers seek her out. She's new to this little collective and these are the types who don't trust easily. Save for Burong, who she shares a realm with.

"Hm, how very interesting," the shape she takes in trials is gone, replaced by a tall, but normal looking, woman. The only thing that is the same is the shocking red hair. A throng of vines gather behind him, forcing him to sit and brings him closer to his host.

"No, I can't fault one for curiosity," she sits down herself. "But I am curious about you as well, Dr. Carter."