[benxwilliams-blog]

pxstilencex:

Used to being under microscopic study - she’d had no choice but to accustom herself to the ordeal of being poked and prodded at for the duration of her stay with the scientists under direct order from her now employer - Jaclyn wasn’t quite sure what to make of this man who studied her with such an intense regard, as though picking apart every little detail about her person. There was nothing out of the ordinary about him that stood out, save for the fact that his nose was bleeding and his dark eyes gave off the impression of seeing and experiencing far too much for whatever age - late twenties, perhaps? - his appearance indicated. Ancient eyes, the kind quite capable of seeing through to the heart of the matter. But still, there was something there, an aura he exuded, that caused the question of his true identity to flicker through her mind. A brief flicker not even worth noting.

A slight frown grazing her lips as she heard the amusement in his tone - was it that strange to question his well-being after noticing the small, red droplets trickling from his nose? - Jaclyn offered a shrug, worry still crinkling her brow. “Anemia is quite common in this day and age,” she supplied softly. “And since I wasn’t sure if you suffered from it or not, I felt compelled to ask. But it’s certainly a relief to know that a noseblood isn’t cause for concern.” Much better that than someone who truly did suffer from anemia or some other blood disorder. “Oh … this?” She gave the black case a gentle pat, lips curving upward at the sudden change in subject. “You didn’t interrupt anything, as I’ve just finished … running my errands for the day.” 

Something about this woman was strange. Nothing he could quite place his finger on. She wasn’t going ot die, no. Her death wasn’t close enough to be something he could sense or see. It wouldn’t suprise him if he was, yet another, immortal being of sorts. But usually, it was fairly easy for him to decipher them. As it was for the rest. The energy that surrounded them was different, stronger, brighter. This one, though, was a mystery to him, though. Not that he hated a good mystery. Even death liked to play games every now and then. It happened twice already. Since the dawn of time, that is. A short nail ran through the thin lines of his fingers, eliminating any spot of color that was left. Now, finally, his gaze landed on the suitcase she had tucked under her arm. Although observed, he hadn’t thought much of it. People these days liked to look important, after all. “Anemia? People suffering anemia are usually skinny, pale, tired. Although, certainly, not spotting a tan, I do think I don’t look like any of that, do I? And the disease is more common and widely spread than it used to be, but therefor people very rarely die of it. Unlike old times. I appreciate...the question, but no, your concern was falsely placed.” 

Once more, dark eyes that held golden spots like freckles roamed over the suitcase. She didn’t particularly seem like a business woman per se. Lacked the coldness that was often required for office workers in higher positions. So he wasn’t sure whether she was just an exception, which he happened to come across quite a few mortals that simply weren’t like the rest, or one that wanted to feel important by carrying a suitcase like that around. Or, if she was more than what met the eye. A dark brow was cocked as Bennett ran a calloused hand across his jaw and nodded. “Isn’t it quite late to still be working or running errands to begin with?”

[sxsmth]

mythology: Thánatos (θάνατος) requested by @likethebogflower (and @christophercarrioned)

Son of Nyx and Erebos, and twin of Hypnos. Was regarded as merciless and indiscriminate, hated by—and hateful towards—mortals and the deathless gods.

“[…] but the other has a heart of iron, and his spirit within him is pitiless as bronze: whomsoever of men he has once seized he holds fast: and he is hateful even to the deathless gods.“

[benxwilliams-blog]

howie-taima:

Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead, damping the little hairs the sprawled out from her hairline. Las Vegas was a lot hotter than where she usually resided in the north but it was a nice change. Something she felt her life had needed. And the heat only made the familiar scent of human flesh that much more evident. The cold weather didn’t hide it but the heat amplified it. The salty sweet scent lingering in the air. She sat in the same spot she sat everyday, a small table set up and waiting for someone to take a seat across from her. Her clothing was eccentric but not the point where it was over the top. She traded cash for false hope. Read the palms of women who believed too far into the unknown. Tossed tarot cards around and told them stories of how their lives would be filled with happiness- family and love. Something she knew all too well wasn’t a possibility for everyone. It wasn’t ideal but she made enough cash to cover her rent in a shady apartment; to give herself a place to call home even if it was falling apart. And being able to watch people without anyone thinking anything odd about it was a bonus. It made being what she was all that much easier. 

Howahkan glanced up as she felt the presence of someone beside her, the sharp scent of blood hitting her hard as she sat there starving as if she had never eaten a day in her life. A constant feeling for the girl. Strangely, he looked familiar. The face of a man she felt like she had seen before but she couldn’t place where or when. After a while most faces looked the same. Without a word, the Windego reached into her bag a pulled out a small, half empty pack of tissues and with dirty hands she handed them over to him. She wasn’t usually one to help someone in need but he lacked that distinct human smell and that peaked her interest. “You alright?” she asked though the lack of concern in her voice deceived her goodhearted intentions “I mean- do you need a hospital or doctor or something? Or is fumbling around and getting nosebleeds a normal thing for you?”

The second his eyes landed on the young woman - she couldn’t be any older than early twenties - he felt it again. Stronger with each passing second. Death surrounded her. No pun intended. He could sense it. See when and how people would die and although he couldn’t remember her face in particular, the world as they knew was a strange place with creatures unfathomable for most. Bennett didn’t doubt their paths had crossed before when it wasn’t her death he saw, but the lives lost on her hands. The man reached out to take the pack of tissues, golden eyes fixated on the young woman sitting at a table with tarot cards. Stupid readings that certain mortals believed to hold even just a sliver of truth. Their future laid on by a set of cards. Nothing was certain. Nothing but death. The white fabric was pressed against his nose, cleaning up any evidence of blood. His free hand reached out to pull the opposite chair back, the tall man soon sitting down. Her offer was thanked silently, but that wasn’t what he was interested in anymore. The bleeding had stopped by then and Thanatos was far more interested in the little game she seemed to play, as he sensed the oncoming dread of death oozing from every pore of her being. He neatly folded the bloody tissue,into a rectangle, pushed it back into the pack of tissues he’d dispose at the next bin before his attention was on her and her only.

“I highly doubt that a nosebleed would make a suitable patient for a doctor, let alone a hospital.” The elder replied with a short sigh. Amber eyes narrowed slightly — not a trace of malicious intent, rather than an interest in the woman herself. What she was all about. Why she was regarding him with the same interest. “You’re a card reader? Why don’t you need my future? Maybe you can find out yourself whether it’s a normal thing for me or death is just waiting at my doorstep. Hm?” His voice was gruff as he talked, head tilted aside ever so slightly.

[benxwilliams-blog]

pxstilencex:

Fritz Blanchard. A single name, requiring further research. 

But Jaclyn knew what it meant even before she’d plopped down in front of her laptop at a popular coffee shop three blocks away from her apartment; as if putting so much distance between the two would limit Milo’s exposure to her … line of work. The clue itself had been printed in a neat, tidy font on a piece of paper designed to look like a business card, the navy blue triquetra pagan symbol printed in the top-right corner of the card proof of their interference once more. It didn’t matter how many names they slipped beneath the door of her apartment; they were never satisfied. One name soon became three - and before long, eight joined the list. These assignments they regularly handed her, along with her fellow horsemen, were enough to validate their control over every aspect of her life. With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, Jaclyn shut down her laptop - she had the necessary information needed to perform the duties assigned to her now - and returned it to its case, then slowly got to her feet, case tucked firmly under her arm. It had been half an hour since she’d last heard from Francine, and she couldn’t stop herself from worrying over the possibility of something happening to either her or Milo. She wouldn’t put such things past her employer, especially not after what had happened last time.

Worry for Milo already superseding everything else, Jaclyn left the coffee shop and began to make the rather long walk back to her apartment. But before she could take even one step in that direction, an unfamiliar, masculine voice stopped her in her tracks. “One moment, please,” she answered automatically; stuffing tissues in her purse had become a habit of hers ever since she’d found herself standing among a crowd of strangers with a bleeding nose. Gloved fingers immediately locating the pack of tissues haphazardly buried underneath a crumpled ball of receipts, she relinquished the pack with ease - into the hands of someone who seemed to have a stronger need for them than she did at the moment. “Keep the rest - you never know when they might come in handy.” And she had so many packs at home that losing one wouldn’t make that much of a difference anyway. “And I don’t mean to overstep my boundaries, but … are you all right?” Common courtesy dictated she ask as much.

Golden orbs were hidden by a band of thick, black lashes. The woman that had stopped seemed...oddly out of place. Clothed from hand to toe, a strange expression on her face that he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t his business, of course, his eyes roamed over the petite female nonetheless. Did he particularly care? No. An emotion he had seen before - worry - had crossed her features before she reacted to his inquiry. Slender fingers reached out to accept the pack of tissues the woman offered to him, tips leaving bloody prints of the plastic. He had figured she wouldn’t be needing the package back anyway. The soft, white material was pushed against his nose, successfully wiping off the scarlet liquid coating his skin. The bleeding, fortunately, wasn’t too heavy. Just a vein that had popped from the sheer pressure in his head. Although enhanced, a human body certainly wasn’t the most robust of vessels. Not when he could sense — see the death of so many at once. For a moment, Bennett was busy fixing the bloody mess on his lower face, careful and thorough, making sure there would be no trace left behind. Her offer was acknowledged with a curt nod, 

Her question wasn’t answered immediately. No, it almost amused him still. This wasn’t the first occasion he had found himself in public, incapable of keeping it together.  And a nosebleed certainly was nothing to be concerned about. Even for mortal standards. Bennett pushed the tape back onto the thin plastic, tongue briefly running along his upper lip before his eyes darted back toward the young woman. “A nosebleed is hardly going to be my death.” A hint of amusement laced his deep voice as he adjusted his posture. “I believe I interrupted you...running some errands, right?”

[benxwilliams-blog]

                                I: Create a moodboard for your character. 

                            B E N N E T T  W I L L I A M S || T H A N A T O S                        

[benxwilliams-blog]

Mortals. Weak. Pathetic. Almost saddening, as they live their pitiful, short life rushing from one meaningless event to another. Holding their humanity oh so high. Wanting to live what short amount of time they had the fullest. Often, he’d catch himself watching them in silence. Even now, after centuries. They intrigued him. What drove them. The way their hearts beat, their souls screamed. He was the face they’d see last as death claimed the burning fire within them. Heavy boots, barely audible in the crowd of people roaming the streets of L.A., left the smallest of stones crunching beneath his weight. Amber eyes scanning the busy mess of mortals and immortals alike. Beings that, for centuries, people worshiped. Feared. Some, never truly believed in until their worst nightmares came true one day. Creatures feeding on their flesh, claiming their souls, deciding their fate with powers unfathomable to human nature. The back of his neck crackled as Ben rested a large, cool hand on his nape for the cervical vertebra to find their place once more. Long night. Rough couple of days. Although he was trying his best to stay long, out of the chaos that erupted within their kinds - inevitably - it was still affecting his life. The one he had reluctantly accepted to lead, within mortals, stripped of his authority and power. The meaning that his life once had. Instead of bearing the souls of parted to guide them to their final destination, he was finding them instead. Private investigation. Working in the shadows by himself. At least that was something he was fairly familiar with. 

Flecks of gold shimmered in the tall mans eyes as a heavy breath of air escaped his lungs, long fingers buried in the pockets of a pair of dark jeans. He could feel them. Sense the upcoming dread of souls ready to leave, to start a new chapter of their journey. These days, it was almost overwhelming. Bennett could take them, give them some sort of peace, but after Project Stratax, there was little he could do for them in the sense of sending them to their destination. Couldn’t carry them over to the underworld anymore. So instead, he’d store them. Screaming and bashing, relentless beings that had no place nor home. He stopped in his tracks, eyes tightly shut as he inhaled deeply. Calmed his nerves, blended out his surroundings. Sometimes he damned fate, for choosing him to be the bringer of death. His brother’s had it easier. Pity that they couldn’t switch positions. As Bennett opened his eyes again, he found himself leaning against a wall, a single droplet of blood trickling down his philtrum, spreading on his lips. Every day the same damn ordeal. “Ah, Fuck.” The man cursed under his breath, eyes landing on the first person that walked past him. “Hey, got a tissue?”