Malevolence within Darkness

Independent The Elder Scrolls OC role play blog following the Nord/Imperial 'Buck'. NSFW. about buck | rules page

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mutuals do this

stick your fingers through the bars of my enclosure i promise not to bite you

[blindmalice]

Return

Riften’s alleyways, once quaint and orderly, had descended into something which evoked the rawest sense of fright in man – something that sent your heart into a frenzy, something that widened your pupils as sweat slicked your underarms and palms, malodourous air caught thick in your lungs…

And, of course, Buck loved every bit of it.

It had been some years since the brutal murder of the Mara priestess. Some years since his subsequent incarceration and, once the initial waves of horror had retreated, leaving but hollow grief and uncertainty in the hearts of many, his eventual release.

Occasionally, people still talked about the incident, insisting friends and loved ones shy away from the alleys and instead tread the main streets. Occasionally, people still pointed to the exact alley in which it happened; her cold, lifeless body left without a head, how the foul being that had done it proceeded to scoop out the bloody, sloppy innards and use her head as a hand puppet.

A big, wicked smile lifted Buck’s lips whenever such comments graced his ears.

Ah, Riften. They’d been shaken to the core yet here he was, still walking their streets (or more specifically, their alleyways), eating their food, drinking their water…

“Excuse me.”

Buck twisted his head towards the sound.

“You’re, um, in the way.”

His smile broadened.

[shinyphione-deactivated20200301]

slides a nasty, stinky man ur way

[travelers-alike]

Micyne made another face of disgust, but she could understand the logic behind it. Whether it insulted him or not, she quickly slipped on her leather gloves that she used for handling green mote, belatedly hoping no residue was on them. Such a substance could be absorbed through the skin.

She gently took the stranger’s hand, gripping his palm rather clinically, as if she were about to look it over for open sores. She did no such thing, and instead led the strange man around the corner of the house towards the door. She briefly let go of his hand and adjusted how she carried the basket again, feeling as though she were dealing with a child.

It took her a moment to find her key, but hastily opened the door and guided the stranger inside.

“I’m Micyne, by the way. I don’t believe I caught your name?” She said politely, guiding him to a chair in front of the fire and rushing behind the counter to find the aromatic incense her father had gotten for her on his trip back from Hammerfell. She lit four of them and placed them throughout the room. “Careful near the walls. Lots of glass bottles.”

[blindmalice]

Treated as though a mother would her reckless, dirty child, he was lead around the corner, and then further within the embrace of her home. Buck had no idea what it looked like in actuality, but he imagined that it was small and clean, like her.

“I’m Buck,” he replied. He could feel warmth radiating from in front, and the smell of burning wood filled his nares. A fire was here. Letting the scent fill his lungs too, his chest swelled forth, before deflating once she set his hand on cresting rail of a chair. He felt around the ears of the rail and, at her unspoken behest, assumed the seat.

“Careful near the walls,” he echoed. A resolute nod. “Got it.”

She said nothing about in front of him. As another grin blossomed on his lips, he stuck his foot where he surmised the fire to be.

[blindmalice]

She Is Young, She Is Beautiful, She Is Next | PERTURBATOR

[travelers-alike]

Micyne flinched, backing up a bit and holding her basket in front of her nervously. This man was clearly deranged and making a scene. She whistled in the direction of the wall and Lichen eventually stopped growling. Her well trained dog never acted that aggressively. In fact he usually played shopkeep, sitting on the counter and daring customers to steal or shortchange while she was away. 

Of course he couldn’t count out coin but he was a large, eerie looking dog, with sharp teeth and too haunting of a stare to test what would happen. Especially after Braith had spread rumors that Micyne was a witch and Lichen was some sort of undead familiar. Which wasn’t true. She kept the animals that she raised strictly in her basement.

She tilted her head a bit, glad he couldn’t see the expression on her face. It was nothing short of utter disgust. Had she been able to smell anything other than a complete lack of hygiene, she was certain she’d smell some sort of narcotic or liquor. 

“There’s a storm coming,” Micyne warned lightly, briefly glancing at the sky. “You should come inside. Something tells me you wouldn’t stay in the Bannered Mare very long.”

[blindmalice]

She was offering him respite in her house? Her house? That didn’t happen very often. No, that didn’t happen very often at all. The light insult that was laced into her proposal didn’t go over his head – bizarre and idiosyncratic as he was, he was oddly astute in certain spheres. Buck figured that maybe she had something in mind other than hospitality.

Maybe she was planning on killing him? Oh, wouldn’t that be a treat!

“Ah’don’t know what th’fuck the Bannered Mare is, but sure!” He bowed in a dramatic fashion, his yellowed, malodourous grin growing impossibly wider. “I’m ah’bit on th’blind side, so maybe y’should hold m’hand, mm? Don’t want me walkin’ into another wall.”

He extended one large, hairy, scar-ridden hand. He twinkled his fingers expectantly.

[travelers-alike]

“Yes,” Micyne answered, though she was regretting it with each passing second. While her choice of work ended up showing her some gruesome sights, few could compare to this living man before her. “You ran into my house,” 

Her tone, though even and patient was laced only slightly with annoyance, before she got a closer look at his face as she walked towards him. It was hard to keep the light tinge of pity from her voice as she noticed his complete lack of sight. Inside her home Lichen began to bark and growl, startled by the sudden noise.

“I don’t recognize you. Are you new in town or just stopping by?” She asked politely, deciding not to get offended by being called ‘kid’. Showing a stranger attitude was unbecoming of a lady, however often necessary around Nords and Imperials.

[blindmalice]

He jerked his head back towards the wall, brows hiked at the barking. It sounded as though it was inside the house. Must be the stranger’s dog, then. Suddenly, bizarrely, he barked back. It was a wild, frenzied sound which eventually dimmed to a guttural growl, and then again to brief silence.

“Jus’ stoppin’ by!” Buck chirped, swinging his head back towards the source of the voice, acting as though nothing odd had just transpired. He shuffled even closer to the stranger while his mind hustled about, digging up whatever details it could through speedy analysis of sound and scent.

Woman. Short. Head just below the crown of his shoulders. Words muffled – maybe a scarf? A helmet? Something which obscured the mouth. Flowery smell.

His nose twitched.

[shinyphione-deactivated20200301]

more buck!

[shinyphione-deactivated20200301]

a smelly, nasty man. i couldn’t be bothered drawing all his scars but i assure you, he has a lot

[travelers-alike]

@blindmalice

Micyne balanced a basket on her hip as she conversed with the other merchants of the market. The basket was barely overflowing with an assortment of local flora one could find near the outside of the city’s walls. While all alchemic ingredients were useful, it was the sleeping tree sap and moon sugar at the bottom of the basket that was more important to her. She smoothed her apron down as she hunted for the key she no doubt slipped into the wrong pocket again.

She was alarmed to the point of nearly dropping her goods at the sudden thud of a body hitting the side of her house. She readjusted the basket and hesitantly peaked around the corner before immediately regretting it. The stench of the stranger was enough to cause her illness, but the man’s mangy appearance evoked pity in her. That and the fact he inexplicably walked straight into the side of her house.

“W–” Micyne cleared her throat and ended up covering her nose with her knit shawl. “Well met, stranger. Is… there something you need help with?”

[blindmalice]

He’d burrowed his way into the frail, pitiful heart of a middle-aged woman. Ellia, she said her name was. Her brows, dipped at the outer edges, and her eyes, big and blinking, made her look perpetually concerned, but that look wasn’t too far from the truth. She worried about people, and that worry extended onto Buck – his dishevelled, malodourous garb, and his scar-bedecked form kindled an odd melange of fear and motherliness. Ellia wanted to help where she could.

Now, normally, Buck would’ve taken all that he could, but whimsy beckoned him otherwise. He wanted to go travelling, he decided. He wanted to visit other cities. Maybe even other provinces. A rank, yellow smile unfurled upon his lips, and he conjured some bullshit story about how he’d been told that some master mage within the vicinity of Whiterun had the power to regenerate body parts, even parts as sensitive and intricate as the eyes.

She swallowed it right up, promptly coughing enough coin for a trip to Whiterun and back. So, that was how he ended up here in Whiterun.

There was one looming problem, however. One that he hadn’t anticipated until he stumbled onto the city’s yawning, wooden gates. Unlike Riften, where he’d imprinted a mental map of every twist and turn, every property and road into the wrinkles of his brain, Whiterun was somewhere where he had no fucking clue where anything was. He knew no person, no street, no store. As a blind man, this was an issue.

An issue he cared about none whatsoever.

Buck walked with confidence, constantly tripping over things, constantly banging into walls and people. A few individuals hissed at him, while others quickly retracted their complaints once they spotted the empty recesses that laid where his eyes would’ve been. He didn’t care either way. He just wanted to experience this new place.

An experience that lead to him strolling face-first into yet another wall. Momentarily jarred, he recoiled slightly, before pressing his large hands on the wall. A house? A store, maybe? He couldn’t tell. A voice, closer than the distant murmuring of the marketplace crowd, piqued his interest. He craned his head towards the source, grinning.

“Ah! Hey, kid,” he started, shifting closer towards the voice’s origin. He jabbed a forefinger against his chest. “You talkin’ t’me?”

[sagamemes]

reblog this if you’re an indie roleplaying blog with both an LGBTQIA+ mun and LGBTQIA+ muse(s).

i’m trying to get an idea of how large portion of the indie rp community consists of queer muses being written and represented by queer people themselves. allies, don’t interact.

[blindmalice]

I really need to change Buck’s theme. The writing is so small. why did i do this to myself and others. i’m sorry to everyone.

[blindmalice]

And I’ve fixed up his theme! Writing is all-around bigger and more legible. It looks pretty neat on my screen resolution, so I’m hoping it translates well to other people’s, too!

[blindmalice]

I really need to change Buck’s theme. The writing is so small. why did i do this to myself and others. i’m sorry to everyone.

[shinyphione-deactivated20200301]

Buck, in his Fallout form! Rather than being completely blind, he’s only blind on one side. He’s still absolutely riddled in scarring, though.

[shinyphione-deactivated20200301]

this piece is old as balls, but i still like it. this is buck; he’s a horrible, smelly man who you should stay away from at all costs. i love him.

[zygoats-deactivated20140731]

dont look at my fucking boner when we fight

[yngram]

@blindmalice

[yngram]

Yngram held back a snort. “Yeah, I got big ol’ fat ones just knockin’ around down there. Whats’amatter? Blind fool like you oughtta be able to hear them slappin’ against the stone each time I take a step.” He dealt with vagrants like this day in and out, and so Buck’s antics did little to phase him. What he didn’t like was that malicious grin that only grew bigger and more sinister the closer the man approached.

There was something unsettlingly familiar about Buck. To his knowledge, Yngram had never seen him before, but something about his appearance, specifically his apparent blindness, was setting off all the warning bells in his brain. This man clearly wasn’t of sound mind, Yngram could tell that much by the state of his dress and the scars, many of which seemed self inflicted, running across his face. But the fact he had been so willing to stab a man over a pissed stained alley and then admit it to a complete stranger was what was more telling. Aggressive and crazy. The worst combination. He thought about drawing his bow the moment Buck stepped towards him, but he reasoned that he couldn’t just acknowledge the man was blind one moment and not at least warn him he was now engaging with a city guard the next.

Trying, again, not to slur his speech, Yngram squared his shoulders and spoke louder, as if the man was deaf and not blind. “I’d take a step back if I were you. You’re dealin’ with the city guard now, not just another beggar. What’s your name?”

[blindmalice]

“Th’name’s Buck,” he said without missing a beat. Flirting with the other’s threat, he took yet another step forwards. “What’s yours?”

A city guard. So he was right. The louder their voice boomed, the easier it was to pick apart and piece back together. It was deep for the most part, masculine and raspy and whatnot, enough for Buck to conclude that ‘they’ were in fact a ‘he.’ Good to know. The point where said voice birthed was indicative of the man’s height: slightly shorter than Buck himself, probably by about a few inches, give or take. In his mind’s eye, he extrapolated, gauging the remainder of the fellow’s body - his shoulders, his abdomen, his legs, his cock. Of course, a few things would be off and he could never quite be infallible unless he had direct contact with his target, feeling them up and down, mustering bodily details with blind hands, but that was to be expected.

His grin grew impossibly wider.