Meet Ren And Blair

A Dead by Daylight OC ask and rp blog || Mun and Muses are 18+ || Follows and likes from @plucky-passerine

[ask-organized-chaos]

Ren and Blair enter the fog

Welcome to my silly little rp/ask blog for my ocs! I’ve had these guys for a while in my personal universe called Organized Chaos, but I wanted to see what would happen if I brought them into the Dead by Daylight universe.

About the mun: You can call me Crow! I’m pretty new to having an ask blog but I’m a seasoned roleplayer! I’m okay with involving violence and gore (as might be expected within the DbD universe) but I would like to stay away from sexual themes for my own comfort 😅

About the muses: Ren and Blair are two ocs from my personal universe of characters. I’m pulling from this universe for what they were doing before they were taken into the fog, so if you’re curious about them feel free to ask!

They came into the fog together as a survivor/killer pair.

Ren is a fresh face at the campfire—he’s not entirely sure what’s going on or who everyone is just yet but he learns fast. He can be found in trials, chatting or napping by the campfire, or scavenging for supplies (and anything that catches his interest) out in the realms.

Blair has had a couple trials under his belt by this point. He knows what’s expected of him and how to go about it by now, but he would much rather spend his time exploring the realm instead of hunting down survivors. Which, as it turns out, is exactly what he does in his downtime. He can be found in trials, exploring the realms, or in a small cottage in the middle of the forest that greatly resembles his home before he was taken into the fog.

Survivor

Name: Ren Akiyama

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 23

Appearance: Skinny, orange fluffy hair, brown eyes, typically in jeans and a hoodie but sometimes wears more elaborate outfits

Bio: After dropping out of college, Ren spent most of his time dumpster diving for materials he could use in his fashion designs between shifts as a coffee barista. His resourcefulness, stubborn attitude, and tendency for slinking his way out of trouble would come to help him in the fog.

Perks:

Scavenger - Can rummage through already opened chests for a new item

Foxlike - Faster base movement speed and quieter breathing and pain sounds while not running

Determined - Faster cleansing, unhooking, and gate opening speeds after the gates have been powered

***

Killer

Name: Blair Lamia

Title: The Witch

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 28-ish?

Appearance: Pale, raven black hair in a long braid, intricate tattoos along his arms and back

Bio: Always too curious for his own good, Blair accidentally made a deal with a parasitic demon that lives in his tattoos. Whenever he's in trouble the tattoos will possess him, lashing out at anyone unlucky enough to be close by when they do.

Powers: Sacrilege - Tattoos can possess him and send him into a monstrous state, granting him a longer lunge and the ability to create snares and traps at short range

Weapon: Athame dagger

Perks:

Cursed Knowledge - Can see the auras of any survivors who can see your aura

Magic Adept - Can see the auras of any survivors cleansing or blessing totems

Hex: Sacrifice - Healthy survivors who unhook another survivor or heal a survivor from the dying state become damaged

[wanderingsongbird]

@ask-organized-chaos

The muah was sent on discord, but i'm sharing this here, too

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

Did Samuel want to get to know Blair? In a way. He was much more curious about the killer before he went all witchy on him. Now Samuel was just concerned, and his mind froze unable to form any good questions. And that... That actually made him realise just how silly he was being. Yes, this was an uncomfortable situation. Yes, he made a mistake. And yes! This was messed up. But wasn't this what he wanted to do in real life? Interview dangerous individuals?

Except, in the real world, the dangerous individual would be most likely sitting in handcuffs, and he would have the protection of a guard or two. Here he was sitting in the wolf's den, and there was nothing keeping him safe. Whilst he was no longer afraid of pain and dying, as uncomfortable as that was, he was still concerned of his Entity's wrath. And he didn't want Blair hurting either. Weirdly enough, he blamed himself for this situation. If the killer were to be hurt by his Entity, it would be like hurting them for performing a Mori... No, that wasn't even the same.

To ground himself, Samuel slowly returned to his seat and took hold of the backrest. He just needed to breathe. Stop overthinking. Stop panicking. Stop being stupid. He briefly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and held it there for a couple seconds before exhaling. He opened his eyes once more, and glanced at Blair. From that look alone it became visible that it was as if a switch was flipped. So Samuel did have a professional side too.

"What are you planning to do with the information you collect? Only satisfy your curiosity?" He finally asked a question of his own.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Blair couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed. The way the survivor had been acting to this point he’d half expected Samuel to keel over from fright. And yet here he was, backbone and all, asking the interesting questions. Blair smiled genuinely and leaned forward. “Satisfying my curiosity is always a goal of mine, I won’t lie… But in this case, no. It’s not my only goal.”

How much did he want to reveal out the gate? Given this second wind of confidence there was a chance he could handle some of the more intense aspects of their deal, but he didn’t know how fragile Samuel’s current state was. Blair hummed thoughtfully. “I do genuinely want to know how the fog works, how my magic interacts with it. It’s like… Science. You don’t study science *just* to satisfy your curiosity. Or… Most people don’t, anyway. If you want to manipulate the world around you—be it to heal, create, destroy, conquer… escape, even—you need to understand how it works first.”

He decided against mentioning Sacrilege just yet, that he had a passenger with goals of their own. That information would come in time, if Samuel ever thought to ask. “Honestly, I’m happy here. In the fog, I mean. I have a good deal, y’know? Eternal life, limitless access to dozens of libraries, an entirely new world to explore and craft in, and all it costs is doing a job for the being in charge.” He tilted his head, gesturing around at his cottage. “It’s a good deal… for me, that is. But I also understand why others wouldn’t agree, and I’m more than happy to share what I learn with them. Knowledge isn’t meant to be gatekept, after all. Whatever I learn, I will share with those who ask.”

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

It was as if his mind was lagging, late to respond to the scene. Previously he was frozen in place, now he was standing from his spot. Samuel didn't even notice when he changed his position from sitting, or when he took two uncertain steps back towards the door. What was he even trying to escape from? Blair had already set his mark. There was nothing else he could do, right?

Or maybe it was fear of consequences. Because now that he was marked, there was no way out of this. Originally Samuel thought it would just be a shared conversation, an exchange of thoughts and ideas. But... If this whole thing required a contract? Is that what he was supposed to call it? If it required the mark, then what else could Blair ask of him, that the killer was so worried about Sam dropping out?

And he could simply go to his Entity. Sure. But telling her about his unconscious deal would only tell her he was plotting. Sam didn't want to lose her trust. He didn't want to make her angry. Because she was actually...good. In comparison to the other Entities. She took care of him. And now he did something stupid.

"Are you going to let me leave?" Now he was asking questions. A bit late for that. But he didn't know anything about Blair. So it was possible the other might keep him around for whatever reason. But Samuel needed some time to think over this situation. And maybe work out what exactly he did.

----

Mention of: Host - @the-hosting-entity

[ask-organized-chaos]

“Of course I will,” Blair replied, taking this situation much more casually than Samuel was. It made sense really. He’d clearly spooked the man, dragged him into a binding deal perhaps a bit sooner than he should have. But something about him… Blair didn’t want to let him go just yet. “Eventually,” he added after a moment of thought. “Not right now. I want to get to know you better. And I’m sure you want to get to know me.”

He offered a relaxed smile and motioned him to sit down again. Sure, the survivor could try to leave. Hell, Blair might just let him if he was truly adamant about it. He wasn’t in the business of taking unwilling captives and he wouldn’t make much progress with someone desperate to escape anyway.

But what he was offering was answers, and if he was right about Samuel… Well. That should be a tempting enough offer in itself.

“You can go first, yeah? Ask any questions you want and I’ll answer honestly and to the best of my ability.” He laid his hand on the table, palm up, as he spoke. The tattoos on his arm slithered into his palm, forming a knot of vines coated in thorns, before settling back into their rightful place. The best way he knew to show that he was binding himself to his own word. “I promise. No lies, no obfuscation. Sound good?”

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

Samuel did not attempt to pull away from Blair. In fact, he didn't do anything, frozen in place like a rabbit in a snare. He expected an awkward handshake. But this? With his eyes focused on Blair's face, he didn't even notice what happened to his wrist. Not until it was too late, and he felt the pain. Only then did he try to pull away, his free hand pushing pointlessly against the killer's iron grip. This was not what he agreed to!

No... It was. He was a fool for not asking more questions about their deal. And he didn't understand what the point of this was. Once his hand was released, Samuel pulled down his sleeve and observed the tattoo. His current priority was not trying to escape. Something told him he wouldn't be able to either way.

"What is this?" He asked, gaze shifting back to Blair. Because it wasn't just a tattoo. There was no way it was just that. It must've served a purpose. "Why-" for some reason, the second question didn't want to leave his lips, and Samuel dropped his gaze to the ground. Staring into those eyes was so much more suffocating than maintaining eye contact with anybody else.

Perhaps he made a mistake after all. And now he'd have to figure out how to hide the tattoo from others.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Blair tilted his head, watching Samuel’s reaction. He had spirit, that was for sure, but the man always seemed to shoot it in the foot. It was a pity, but something he could work with.

“Collateral,” Blair answered simply, the ink staining his skin and eyes retreating now that the deal was complete. “To make sure you don’t get cold feet about the whole thing. I’m sure you understand..”

Blair sat back down and resumed drinking his tea. “I’ve made deals with very powerful beings in the past. Fair folk, demons… You could make an argument that the Entity was one of them, in a way. I have a lot of experience with this and I know what can go wrong when a powerful agreement isn’t properly sealed.”

He looked at the tattoo on Samuel’s wrist for a moment, a look of satisfaction crossing his face, before looking back up at the survivor. “It’s something you’re going to have to learn, I think. No offense, but you’re not very good at this. You’re curious, intelligent, and those are very good things, but you’re dealing with forces more powerful than either of us really understand.” He shrugged. “And if it helps… That tattoo binds me to you just as much as it binds you to me. You can’t break your end of the deal, and neither can I.”

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

Having Blair give up so easily was unexpected. Samuel's eyes briefly glanced to the other, as if checking if it was true. He really hated having to say 'no' to other people. Because they didn't even have to guilt trip him into doing something. He would do that to himself. And most often, even if he didn't feel like doing it, he would end up agreeing with other people's wishes. Except this time. Writing felt too personal to do it for another person's pleasure.

His curiosity was piqued at the offer of helping with a project. Because if Blair didn't want him to write articles, what else could he need a survivor's help with? Once more he glanced up at the killer, and that was when confusion painted his features. Not surprise. Simple confusion at the discovery that Blair was a 'witch'. And there were a lot of reasons for that emotional state, but Samuel didn't focus on that conflict. He wanted a clear mind to listen to what the other had to say.

When Blair's gaze caught Samuel's eyes, the survivor wanted to escape the eye contact, but he found himself unable to do so. He felt a pull to remain focused on the other, as if losing Blair from his line of sight could lead to danger. And he was right. Experiments never sounded good. Immediately his mind was filled with...

How things operate in the Fog?

Despite having been drinking his tea not too long ago, it felt like his mouth had run completely dry. He felt a soft tremor in his hands that forced him to set the cup back down on the table, not wanting to give that away too much. He hid his palms in his lap under the table, aware that they were the part that always gave his anxiety and fear away the most.

His gaze dropped from Blair's face to the extended hand, but he didn't move, didn't speak. This was... Conflicting. He wanted to say yes. Perhaps in the past he'd leap at the offer like an idiot without giving it much thought. But now? Was he- He didn't fear Blair in this situation. He feared that the consequences would be repeated. That once more he'd dig too far, to much, for too long and be punished for it. But...

The Bastard was no longer interested in him. He didn't observe him at every step. Samuel didn't belong to him so how would he know? And even if... Even if Samuel no longer wished to find a way out for himself. Even if he didn't care for helping himself out of the trials... He wanted to help others.

Blue eyes raised once more from the offered hand up to Blair's face, and again back to his hand. It was an opportunity, no? He could learn more... They could. And- Ahh, his brain was overthinking again. What else was there to do? Leave and face regrets? Perhaps it was better to regret what you have done, rather than what you haven't. Because at least you would have tried if you had taken risks. If you just cower away then...

Slowly he raised his hand, timidly taking hold of Blair's. He still wasn't certain what he was agreeing to but... What would be the worst thing that could happen? He was already in hell.

"Alright... We can... I can help out..."

[ask-organized-chaos]

Blair absolutely lit up as Samuel took his hand—Literally, in fact, because the moment their hands clasped together the irises of Blair’s eyes took on a sudden ethereal glow.

Even if Sam wanted to pull his hand away, he wouldn’t have been able to. Blair had him in an iron grip as the tattoos lacing his arms began to swirl and move across the skin, crossing over to Samuel’s wrist like the crossing of a bridge.

The whites of Blair’s eyes turned pitch black as ink flowed over them and spilled from his waterline, the same material forming the tips of his fingers into wicked claws that almost pierced into Samuel’s skin. Meanwhile the same ink that curled around the survivor’s wrist began to bite into his flesh, poking in like a thousand needles and injecting itself into his flesh.

By the time the substance retreated, Samuel was left with a new tattoo of his own: Thorn covered vines of ivy circled his wrist like a shackle and hummed in his skin with the low frequency of background noise.

“I am so excited to work with you,” Blair said, his smile wider now, if that were even possible. His eyes were wide and wild, like a predator that had caught its prey in a trap, and his voice seemed to overlap on itself with something otherworldly.

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

Abused dog was perhaps the best way to define Samuel. Because, in technicality, that was what he was. And now he was forced in a world where trusting strangers meant he either survived or died only to repeat it again. And, strangely, he took the fog as an opportunity for self growth. Because there wasn't much else you could do. If he gave into negativity, he'd perish. And he didn't know what waited within the void. His curiosity did not reach that far.

As a whole, Samuel was brave, just not confident. He could do a lot without the eyes of others on him. Hence why he became a journalist and not a news reporter on the television. Both worked similarly, but in one you could hide behind written words. Nobody really knew the authors of the local newspapers. And the anonymity was pleasant.

He briefly glanced at Blair when the topic of Ghostfaces was continued. Perhaps he could talk more about them, but that wasn't what Samuel wanted to do right now. So he nodded idly at the statement that they were manipulative. Because, yes, that was a trait they all seemed to share. Although some were more willing to talk, without the threat of torture, than others. This allowed Samuel to learn more about some of them.

Just as he discovered a lot about some of the other killers. In fact, in the past he had a journal filled with notes on the different victims of the fog, killers included. Maybe, in a way, he was similar to the Ghostface with who he was taken into the realm. He too enjoyed collecting information about others. But Samuel would never use that to hurt them. At most, he'd use their weaknesses in trials, but that was what everyone did. Right?

And yet that collection of knowledge was not something he shared with others. Not even the survivors. Because it felt personal, and talking about other people behind their back was never a good idea. Similarly, Sam considered writing articles in the past. Something to do at the camp but... What would he write about? The pain and torture they faced daily? Local gossip, turning his articles into one of those girly magazines he saw in shops? It just felt...pointless.

"I avoided writing since being taken into the fog," he finally admitted sharing some of his thoughts. Because his mind was louder than his mouth currently. "And... I would rather keep it that way, sorry... But if you want I could uhm... Share some of the things I know with you? I- It depends on what you would like to know."

[ask-organized-chaos]

Blair watched Samuel with greedy eyes. It had been too long since he was able to get so much information out of a guest at once. Kate was a good friend and a fun companion, but she was guarded. Clever. She knew exactly what to give and what to hold back, and while that made interactions with her more of a game, it also made her difficult to read. Blair would only get from her what she chose to offer.

Ren wasn’t as guarded, but Blair had come in with him. There was precious little he didn’t already know about Ren, having already been friends with him for years, so interactions with him was more like catching up with an old flame. Enriching, but not particularly enlightening.

In contrast Samuel was a library. He was an open book, wearing far more of himself on his sleeve than he might even realize. Even without the tea, Blair could easily see himself learning so much about the survivor just from talking to him, whittling out secrets easy as anything.

But… He didn’t want to play journalist for Blair. Which was fine, really. The witch could tell there was some baggage there, a hunch that was backed up by Samuel’s reaction. Maybe something happened to him in the fog as a result of his work, or maybe it just brought too much pain to the forefront. Either way, it was a shame. Blair would’ve liked to have his own little private eye.

Blair just nodded and smiled, leaning into his other ideas. “Completely understandable. I’m sure it’s hard to keep up with the craft with so many interruptions.” Another sip of tea. “But actually… Yeah. If you don’t mind, there are quite a few things I would like to know.”

This wasn’t about snooping on the other killers or getting useful intelligence like the Ghostfaces seemed eager to do. This was about the pursuit of knowledge, plain and simple. Blair wanted to know more because searching out the unknown was in his nature. It was in his blood, it was something he happily sold his soul for.

And there was more than one way to get information.

“I’ll tell you what… You don’t have to write for me. It was a suggestion, and I do like reading, but I completely respect that’s something you don’t want to do. Instead…” He placed his cup down on its saucer and folded his fingers under his chin. “Maybe you would like to help me with some projects of mine.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I like to dabble in the inner workings of this world.” Blair gestured loosely to the shelf of jars. “I’m a witch. Not like the kind from Harry Potter or Sabrina, but a real one. The Salem kind, you know?” He grinned, showing off canines and incisors that were perhaps sharper than they should have been. “Magic—real magic—is a lot different from how it’s portrayed in fiction. It’s subtle and finicky, and takes a lot more experimentation than you would think to make it work just right.”

Another pause. Blair’s eyes bored into Samuel’s as though staring down his soul. He smiled wider. “I had a pretty good grasp of things in the real world. But here? In the fog? Everything is… Well. Let’s just say the rules are different here.” He put his hands down and sat up straight. “If you would like, and I would like to emphasize that this would be completely your choice to make, you could help me with my experiments. Nothing major, of course. You would never be in danger, but I would be able to get a much stronger grasp on how things actually operate in the Fog.”

Blair tilted his head. “You share your knowledge with me, and help me with my experiments, and in return I would share my knowledge with you, and potentially give you aid in your own trials. Charms, wards, offerings…” He grinned, his eyes lit up with excitement, and put his hand out as though to shake. “Does that sound like a fair deal?”

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

Samuel almost winced at the comment about him being inquisitive. Because that was so close to calling him nosey. After all, he was caught looking around someone else's home. But Blair seemed to say it as a positive trait? Sam doubted the killer would call them similar, if he had anything negative to say. So the survivor simply focused on his drink, drowning his overthinking with the lavender in his tea.

"I--" how to say that he wasn't successful enough to write the articles, without making himself sound pathetic? He only wished he could cover the topic, or at least become a co-author of them.

No... He wrote one. That final article that was supposed to start his career. "I wrote an article on the Roseville murders... Or rather their conclusion, since it was after he..." It was clear he had difficulty talking about the topic. Because it brought back all of the memories. Those of his stupid falling for a much older man. One who didn't even care for his existence.

Or rather, Jed, as he was known at the time, would have probably been happy to talk to him. That fake kindness, those fake smiles he offered to the other co-workers. If Sam had the courage to talk to him, they would most certainly at least acted like work friends. In that regard, perhaps it was better that Sam never found that courage to socialise.

"After...the killer known as the Ghostface revealed his identity and left town, I was the one to write the article about it."

[ask-organized-chaos]

Samuel was certainly an interesting man. Blair could sense the hesitation, felt the insecurity coming off of him in waves. He was the sort to second-guess everything he did, to assume every step was the wrong one. It was…

Pathetic wasn’t the right word. After all, the man still had the balls to investigate around here despite the possible danger. It was just that he seemed to navigate the world as though it were going to bite him any second, like an abused dog meeting new people for the first time. And honestly… it was familiar. Achingly so.

Maybe Blair just had a type.

“Ghostface is quite the story,” he said, deciding to steer the conversation in a new direction. “I’ve met him a few times here. Or at least, I met a few versions of him. He’s quite the manipulative type, isn’t he?”

Quite the shithead, Sacrilege chimed in mentally. Blair hummed, hiding the twitch in his expression with another sip of tea.

“Anyway,” Blair continued, “that sounds exciting. It must’ve been pretty interesting to write about him.” A pause, then Blair leaned forward again with an eager smile. “You know, I would love to know more about the other killers in the fog. They’re all so… Fascinating, you know? I would love to read some articles written about them, wouldn’t you?”

Blair watched Samuel’s eyes, his demeanor. Watching to see if this line of potential might pan out. If not, no matter. He had other ideas in mind for the survivor.

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

Samuel had never heard about the use of dandelion before. But he knew about the calming properties of lavender. And for a while in the past he did use lavender oil to ease his sleep. A drop on the pillow whenever stress took over his mind and made it difficult to sleep. It was difficult to say whether it actually worked or simply had a placebo effect, but it did not matter. He had managed to get restful nights and that was important.

"I am amazed at your knowledge and abilities in dealing with herbs," Samuel said whilst stirring his tea. It was clear that the strange force placed on the word 'calm' went unnoticed by the journalist. Because there were multiple reasons why that might have occurred. Perhaps Blair was referring to Samuel's obvious stressed reaction to their meeting. "It is nice that you can make your own teas. Makes it feel homely."

And then he lifted the cup to his lips, at first taking a deep breath to smell the contents. The mix of herbs, the lavender honey. It was perfect, or so he believed. Perhaps he could befriend Blair after all. Or perhaps he'd see the man's real face beneath that pleasant mask. Because it was something he learnt even before coming to the fog. That not all charming men were good. And with that thought, he took a careful sip of the hot tea.

"Uhm..." Blair's final question. That was what made Samuel uncomfortable. It wasn't Blair's strange energy or anything else. It was asking Samuel to talk about himself which made him feel uneasy. "There is not much to say really... I was a journalist in the 90s, and now... Now I am stuck with the person I wanted to write articles about."

[ask-organized-chaos]

Dandelion was a very useful ingredient in his tea, especially when shared with guests. It was an old, powerful herb that came in abundant supply, almost every part of the plant had individual use, and it had multiple medicinal uses to boot. He’d used the root, which on its own was good for health, resilience, and improving psychic connections.

When shared with guests, especially paired with a few other key ingredients, it allowed Blair to burrow deep into their psyche, collecting as much information as he wished like a weed soaking up nutrients, and whittled down the targets defense so his presence was inextricable. Like trying to rid dandelions from your garden, Blair wasn’t going anywhere.

Not that Samuel would notice. Even if he was tuned in to the ways his magic was enhanced in the Fog, the lavender ensured he would stay calm. No sense in startling the rabbit away from its hutch, after all.

“A journalist,” Blair echoed, a curious smile on his face. “Makes sense. You seem like the inquisitive sort to me.” He’d guessed something like that. It was that or an investigator, or perhaps a librarian. “You’re a lot like me, in that sense.”

Rather than elaborate, Blair took another sip of his tea. “So who were you writing articles about? I assume that must’ve been exciting if you were writing about a killer.”

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

The act of pouring tea from the pot brought a ghost of a smile to the survivor's face. The cause for that was simple. It had reminded Samuel of the life prior to the fog. The way his grandmother would always prepare tea in a pot, and a tray of freshly baked cookies, whenever he came to visit. She was someone who he could always rely on, the only person he was truly close. And this small memory was enough to make him smile.

"The new realm is...weirdly pleasant. Some of the other survivors find it unnerving, but I enjoy the sounds of those strange birds and the movements of the plants..." Throughout the share of knowledge, Samuel not once moved his eyes from the contents of his cup, hands loosely around the porcelain.

"Oh, yes, please." Samuel wasn't certain if he was allowed to add the honey himself, so he paused briefly to check Blair's reaction. If the other didn't attempt to serve him, Samuel would only then reach for the honey jar.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Blair motioned for him to use the honey as he saw fit and watched closely as he drizzled it into the cup. “I hope you like it,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I tend to infuse my honey with herbs. This one is lavender and dandelion, for good health and a calm mind.” His tongue lingered on the word calm, like it held more purpose than he was saying, but he added a drizzle of honey to his own cup before taking a sip.

As always, he was curious. He wanted to know more about his guest, know how perceptive or knowledgeable they were. Samuel was interesting. Inquisitive, polite… Endearing. In a lot of ways the survivor reminded Blair of a rabbit. And he did love rabbit stew…

“So why don’t you tell me a little about yourself,” Blair suggested with a faint smile. “I don’t often have guests over, y’know? And I don’t recall seeing you in a trial yet.” He took a sip of the tea, leaning his chin forward into the palm of his hand.

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

Samuel would have remained outside, even for a little while longer, if it wasn't for Blair's grip. Because for a brief moment, the survivor considered making a run for it. That was a rare reaction for the too easily trusting blonde. But there was just something about Blair that rang sirens inside of his head. Blair looked normal. Kind. And the last time Samuel met someone like that... He quickly discovered that being inside of the other's home, and enjoying a shared tea, he only ended up in deep trouble.

But for now, he had no choice but to follow after. And he allowed his gaze to briefly shift from Blair and onto the surrounding layout of the cottage's interior. Just like the killer, the space was also pleasing and nice. Homely, fresh, perfect. It strangely reminded Samuel of someone close from his past life. The one before the fog. But he shook his head, not letting the memories of the past overtake him.

As he took a seat at the table, Samuel had decided to busy his mind with further focusing on the décor. And he highly enjoyed the different aspects, such as the jars of herbs, until he saw what looked like teeth. But perhaps he shouldn't jump to conclusions too quickly... Perhaps he wouldn't join the collection. Maybe they were animal teeth. Yes. He could explain it that way.

"I, uhm..." he swallowed back the lump that formed in his throat and turned to face Blair. Samuel didn't even realise when his worries made it difficult to speak. But the aroma of the herbs was already soothing his worried mind. "I sometimes walk the realms curious about the new places that form occasionally. Sometimes-" should he say what he was about to say?

"Sometimes you can find interesting items there... Not to steal, of course!" he quickly added, even if that wasn't entirely true. Before being given to his newest Entity, he'd steal some items from the killers. That was the only way to gain a feeling of normality. To gain a bottle of juice, a bar of chocolate, a magazine or a book to read. "There are so many killers that are from the future now. For me, at least. It is interesting to see their realms, and the bits of technology they have. Especially if you can find a newspaper or something like that to learn more about the world they are from."

[ask-organized-chaos]

Blair saw a lot of himself in this little investigator. Curiosity to self detriment, being willing to steal to collect more information, wanting to know more about other worlds… He smiled to himself as he steeped the tea, nodding slightly as he listened.

He paused as he considered the jars of tea ingredients. He’d been strongly considering adding nightshade berries to the mix, a personal favorite of his and one that had interesting effects on many of his guests, but he ultimately decided against it. This conversation was one he wanted to last a little longer.

Eventually Blair returned to the table and poured two cups before sitting down. “I haven’t met many of them myself, unfortunately,” he admitted. “I’ve been meaning to, though. I’ve heard really interesting things about that new realm… Would you like some honey?” Blair smiled as he motioned to the honey jar on the table.

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

The poor boy couldn't help but flinch as Blair brought his hand up. The stress of the situation was just too much for him to remain composed. Because he was used to killers who were openly violent. He was also used to killers who were nice from the start. Blair, on the other hand, was one of those who were in between. You could not predict what they were up to. And whilst Samuel's mind screamed not to take the risk... Samuel just couldn't resist the temptation of discovery.

"Mh...it is nice t-to meet you too..." He finally answered, but still didn't dare to lift up his hand.

Whilst the offer of tea rotated in his mind, he knew that was never a good sign. Because entering the killer's house was like entering the lair of a beast. Once inside, if the killer flipped their behaviour, it was impossible to leave. Samuel had learned that on his skin.

"Yes...that would be nice." Yes, those were not the ones he wanted to speak. But they were the ones that left his mouth. Was it out of his own choice or did something influence him? Probably his stupidity, that's what it was. Because despite being in the fog for so long, Samuel had one major flaw. That he trusted people. He trusted that they could prove to be kind. And like an abandoned Labrador, he simply wanted to befriend them.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Adorable. That was more or less the general feeling Blair was getting from this survivor. Maybe not the expected descriptor, given that this was clearly a grown man who’d seen his fair share of life, but the way he reacted to Blair was certainly amusing.

The lack of a return handshake was disappointing, but understandable. The poor guy seemed scared to death after all. Blair couldn’t blame him for not remembering his manners. He smiled, showing off pointy canines that were just small enough to seem like normal human teeth. “Come inside, then, I’ll get the kettle on!”

With that Blair took Samuel’s wrist in an insistent grip, pulling him into the cottage. The interior was warm and clean, if cluttered with a variety of half-finished projects, and the air was filled with the aroma of dozens of drying herbs and flowers hanging from the rafters.

Blair released Samuel’s arm to go to the kitchen, motioning for the survivor to take a seat at the dining table. The tea set was clean and shiny, decorated with intricate paintings of ivy, purple flowers, and crows. Across from the table stood a dark wood shelf full of jars, each filled with dried herbs, trinkets, or small white pieces that seemed suspiciously shaped. Teeth, maybe. Or bones.

While Blair started on the tea, he glanced over at Samuel. “So what brings you around here? I don’t get many visitors.” He was making a tea steep by hand, adding spoonfuls of various herbs on the countertop to the mixture. It was hard to identify what ingredients were actually being used. “It’s a shame, really. I always enjoy company.”

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

Somehow the feeling of a blade at his throat did not surprise Samuel. It was not the first time, and most certainly it would not be the last. This only proved that he had entered the territory of a killer, but of a killer who was willing to talk things out. If the other wanted him dead, he'd most certainly would have killed him already. This did not mean that the other's plan would not change, but it also did not mean that Samuel would not be harmed. Not even when the blade was removed.

"For trespassing..." he mumbled, feeling like a chastised child. In his embarrassment he didn't even take note of Blair's comment about his outfit. And even if, he would not understand what was wrong with his clothes.

Despite the urge to rub his neck with his hand, Samuel did not dare to move an inch. He was concerned that raising his hand could be taken in the wrong way, and so he remained glued to the wall. His eyes still observed Blair with fright, but he did not dare to look the killer in the eye.

"Samuel..." he answered the question without a thought. Perhaps in his childhood he had heard the stories of Fae and how you shouldn't give your name to strangers in the woods. But the lesson of his parents, to always be polite, won over anything else. Either way, his soul was already sold to the Entity.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Blair grinned. Maybe this new little toy would prove to be more fun than he expected.

“Samuel.” Blair spoke the survivor’s name like he was tasting a fine wine on his tongue. Notes of woodiness and naïveté perhaps?

He didn’t have the same sway over others in the fog the way he did in life, not when the Entities were involved, but there were plenty of other ways names held power. And besides, it let him test out the temperaments of new people he met. Kate, for instance, was clever and worldly, if a bit reckless. Samuel, to his mind, was much the opposite.

Blair drew the knife lightly over Samuel’s skin for another moment, relishing his fear, before pulling away and cheerfully placing it back in its sheath on his leg. He held out a hand to the survivor and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Samuel! You may call me Blair. Would you like to come in for tea?”

The cottage Blair gestured to—the one Sam currently had his back pressed against—was clean and inviting. Through the window one could see a decorative tea set atop a wooden table, ready to go as though Blair had already been preparing. Or maybe he just has tea that often.

The witch waited for the other’s response, a certain unreadable shine in his eyes.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Sacrilege hissed as his claws barely missed Kate again. He stumbled forward, gnashing his teeth at the air in frustration. How hard could it be to catch a damn bird?

He finally stopped as a third generator lit up, drawing his attention behind him. It was at that moment he noticed something—movement nearby. Heat signatures. The telltale sound of a rabbit-fast heartbeat.

There was prey nearby.

The demon decided he’d had enough of Kate’s antics. He was frustrated enough as it was. Why not take some of it out on her teammates. Surely she wouldn’t mind.

He grinned and whipped around, drawing out a scream as he easily caught the little spy in another snare.

[wanderingsongbird]

Meg. Kate recognized the scream and paused.

Sacrilege had stopped chasing her to go after Meg? One could mistake it as jealousy for how the songbird acted, but it was disappointment in herself that went through her like a shotgun blast. If she could have stalked through the trial to the scream, she would have, but there was no time, so she darted across the grounds.

She had something that could maybe pull Blair back out. Maybe. It was a gamble.

Kate could see that he had Meg hefted up, and was making a beeline for that hook. Christ, she hoped luck smiled on her.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Want me to fulfill a Favor, Sacrilege?" Capital F Favor. Blair had won those from her back when they had first met, and she had set some ground rules -- he couldn't make her sell out any survivors, couldn't make her throw a trial. Anything else was fair game.

Even a mori. Kate danced on her toes, eyeing the possessed killer. Christ, she hoped she gambled right.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Sacrilege looked at Kate and sneered, but did drop Meg in the process. They could tell this was going to be an engaging conversation.

“You wanna owe me a favor?” Sacrilege cocked his head to the side, as though considering it. “I dunno… I’ve lost a lot of progress because of you.”

He stepped a boot right onto Meg’s back, stopping her from squirming away. “Maybe I’d rather kill this one, huh? Maybe I’ll even kill all of them. Save you for last.” They grinned, showing off wickedly sharp teeth. “What are you willing to trade to avoid a Hatch Game?”

[wanderingsongbird]

That was something. A small step. Kate's eyes glanced to Meg, contemplating. "One of my tattoos. I'll let you skin it off of me outside of a trial." That would hurt like fuck, but it would give her an idea for how much of it she could stand. After all, Kate did have a plan to try with that.

"I'll even let you pick which one, too." A longer pause. "And a lock of hair." Blair being a witch and Sacrilege being... well, a demon, that should garner some appreciation. Christ, she just hoped this work.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Sacrilege’s eyes lit up at the offer. A tattoo, huh? Any tattoo?

“Deal.” They took their foot off Meg’s back and stepped away, letting Kate closer. “Go ahead and heal her, but as soon as you’re done the chase is back on.” They still had a trial to run, after all. No matter how many deals they made with survivors, Sacrilege was still beholden to the Entity.

For now, anyway.

[facesofthefog]

[facesofthefog]

@ask-organized-chaos

Samuel was enjoying his usual hobby of exploring the realms he had never seen before. This time, his curiosity has led him to a small cottage in the woods, a pleasant place no doubt. Seeing such areas always made him wonder what they might have been like before, prior to ending up in the fog. Were they located in the woods, or perhaps elsewhere? So many of the buildings that now occupied the fog were taken from different areas, but he could imagine this being the cottage's natural setting.

The need to learn more about this place had made him approach closer than he should. He knew that looking through the windows would be a bad idea, especially if someone were to be inside, so he stayed away from those as much as he could. That was, until he had gotten a little too close which led to him feeling a hand on his shoulder and a push against the wall.

"I am sorry!" He quickly exclaimed, not certain if this mistake would lead to his death. Or worse.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Samuel was face to face with a likely unexpected sight. A man on the younger side with pale skin and a gothic aesthetic grinned at him, holding a sacrificial knife to his throat.

“You’re sorry,” the man echoed with a laugh. “Sorry for what? Trespassing? Trampling through my garden? Dressing like that? You really should be more specific when you speak, y’know.”

Despite his words, the stranger removed the knife from his throat, though he kept Samuel solidly pinned to the wall. “If you would like to make it up to me, you could start by giving me your name.”

[ask-organized-chaos]

Sacrilege hissed as his claws barely missed Kate again. He stumbled forward, gnashing his teeth at the air in frustration. How hard could it be to catch a damn bird?

He finally stopped as a third generator lit up, drawing his attention behind him. It was at that moment he noticed something—movement nearby. Heat signatures. The telltale sound of a rabbit-fast heartbeat.

There was prey nearby.

The demon decided he’d had enough of Kate’s antics. He was frustrated enough as it was. Why not take some of it out on her teammates. Surely she wouldn’t mind.

He grinned and whipped around, drawing out a scream as he easily caught the little spy in another snare.

[wanderingsongbird]

Meg. Kate recognized the scream and paused.

Sacrilege had stopped chasing her to go after Meg? One could mistake it as jealousy for how the songbird acted, but it was disappointment in herself that went through her like a shotgun blast. If she could have stalked through the trial to the scream, she would have, but there was no time, so she darted across the grounds.

She had something that could maybe pull Blair back out. Maybe. It was a gamble.

Kate could see that he had Meg hefted up, and was making a beeline for that hook. Christ, she hoped luck smiled on her.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Want me to fulfill a Favor, Sacrilege?" Capital F Favor. Blair had won those from her back when they had first met, and she had set some ground rules -- he couldn't make her sell out any survivors, couldn't make her throw a trial. Anything else was fair game.

Even a mori. Kate danced on her toes, eyeing the possessed killer. Christ, she hoped she gambled right.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Sacrilege looked at Kate and sneered, but did drop Meg in the process. They could tell this was going to be an engaging conversation.

“You wanna owe me a favor?” Sacrilege cocked his head to the side, as though considering it. “I dunno… I’ve lost a lot of progress because of you.”

He stepped a boot right onto Meg’s back, stopping her from squirming away. “Maybe I’d rather kill this one, huh? Maybe I’ll even kill all of them. Save you for last.” They grinned, showing off wickedly sharp teeth. “What are you willing to trade to avoid a Hatch Game?”

[ask-organized-chaos]

“Why don’t you come back here and find out?” Sacrilege hissed, dodging out of the way of the boot just in time to take another swipe at her. Despite the artificial length granted by the inky extrusions, they still missed Kate’s abdomen by mere inches and she was off running again.

And that had Sacrilege’s attention. They charged after her, ignoring the second generator lighting up behind them to focus solely on the musician. There was only a second of pause where they stopped to aim one splayed hand at the ground, summoning snares of tendrils from the ground to whip at Kate’s legs and try to pull her to a stop.

[wanderingsongbird]

Well, at least that bet they had made ages ago seemed to hold some sway over the symbiotic demon. If Kate wasn't so focused on running, she would have laughed. That very focus caused her to forget exactly what Sacrilege could do, though. Too late did she feel the tendrils come up and wrap around an ankle.

The songbird must have been getting under his skin a lot lately in trials. He never seemed to be too focused on anything outside of them, and certainly not during her and Blair's occasional afternoon tea.

Deft fingers worked on trying to create space between those tendrils and her leg. Time was not on her side, not with how Sacrilege tunneled her.

"C'mon, c'mon..." she hissed under her breath, working on pulling away to get her momentum going again. A glance up and she could see him coming. Just a little more... Almost there!

But so were his claws.

AH! Freedom. She did give him another glance before taking off.

[ask-organized-chaos]

Sacrilege hissed as his claws barely missed Kate again. He stumbled forward, gnashing his teeth at the air in frustration. How hard could it be to catch a damn bird?

He finally stopped as a third generator lit up, drawing his attention behind him. It was at that moment he noticed something—movement nearby. Heat signatures. The telltale sound of a rabbit-fast heartbeat.

There was prey nearby.

The demon decided he’d had enough of Kate’s antics. He was frustrated enough as it was. Why not take some of it out on her teammates. Surely she wouldn’t mind.

He grinned and whipped around, drawing out a scream as he easily caught the little spy in another snare.