be quite afraid, darlin’

rp blog for the cowboy / deadeyes [ entity dbd oc ] inbox open

[deadeyesrealm]

— rp / ask blog for DEADEYES, a dbd entity oc —

deadeyes, also known as the cowboy, is a strange one for an entity. no one has ever seen their survivors or killers, or been in one of their trials—but they’re around, doing what they do best. observing. and maybe doing just a little bit of meddling.

↠ open to canon & oc interactions — open for starters & starter requests

↠ sfw (mun is 21)

↠ want a starter but not sure what to ask for? send me a message/ask and i might be able to work something out or send you something instead!

[deadeyesrealm]

[1][2] | @vigos-journal

Another flourish of the cowboy’s hand and the demonstration saltine crackers disappeared like they’d never been there, and they lightly snapped their fingers to rid themselves of any stray crumbs before their hand found Vigo’s shoulder again. They listened to the little scientist talk with a delighted curiosity.

“Feels a little disingenuous to call me candyin’ my words, you know,” they said. “I never said I particularly cared where you mortals end up, you know. You will all truly die in the end, even if it takes ya a little bit longer. You’ll die in here one day, and you will one day out there, too. But…” Again, Deadeyes took the lead. They picked up the pace faster than the music, out of time with the beat but perfectly rhythmic in their own manner.

“But I care while it matters. The cattle will not be let free no matter how much it wants to be, but it can still be happy. And there is quite a difference between a happy piece of livestock, and one that suffers every day, trapped in homes too small for it, bored out of their minds with no sustenance to make them good for anything other than cheap offal,” Deadeyes said, their voice picking up in fervor, though not in volume. They still spoke low, and behind their mask, they grinned. “But I really don’t like talking to my prospects like they are just cuts of meat. I respect my prey, prey or not. After all.”

Deadeyes’ gloved hand found Vigo’s wrist, and pulled him up into a spin, and then they drew him close, drawing one hand up to his face, a half-curled finger tipping his chin up. Luminous blue eyes met green. “If I did not, I would work much harder to feed you to the wolves that wish to rip you to shreds, little sheep.”

[deadeyesrealm]

[1] | @vigos-journal

There it was. So he did remember, after all. Aren’t you a clever one, Deadeyes thought, following along with the slightly shorter man’s dancing smoothly and evenly. They laughed, short and quiet and raspy, as Vigo promised not to make a scene. They truly were in very similar situations, in that regard. Not at all alike in power and knowledge, of course, but both with the need to stay quiet and hidden.

For what the other one wanted Deadeyes didn’t know. Escape, most likely. They couldn’t provide that, but they could potentially provide something like it. If they were a proper enough prospect, at least. Good enough, for their tastes.

Luckily, they were not very picky, and Vigo was very tantalizing.

“No, I reckon not. Wouldn’t be good for either of us,” they said, tilting their head. A smile reached their eyes at the mimicking, although otherwise their facial features were entirely hidden beneath the mask and the bandanna. “Oh, I pride myself on being a nuisance, though—thank you. Watch your tongue, though, little dogey.”

Deadeyes leaned forward and suddenly shifted to take the lead in the dance, just as the music sped up, their steps matching it easily. They leaned Vigo back, weight shifting to lean with him. “I’m one of those parasites too, mind. And I have not taken a soul in such a very long time,” they said, chuckling, before letting him up onto his feet proper. “Fortunately, the tastes my peers’re fonder of aren’t mine. The hope’n’despair don’t really do it for me, y’see—I’m a connoisseur of a good soul. Hard to come by in this Fog, though.”

[vigos-journal]

Vigo let put a noise as suddenly the lead was shifted, Vigo followed their movements quickly as to not look like a stumbling idiot on the dance floor.

His brow knitted at the claim Deadeyes made, how long was 'a very long time'?

An Entity who doesn't feed off negative emotions? Or one that chooses not to? Yet again, Vigo is finding all the information he's learned to be worth coming to this blood arena disguised as a Masquerade, worth it. They are finding that accepting this dance was worth it, Deadeyes proving to be- so far- the most interesting entity he has met yet. Vigo, however, once pulled back onto his feet immediately shifted the reigns back to himself - twirling the being in a graceful spin before pulling them right back to him.

" - Apologies then, I'll mind my tone. "

A connoisseur of a good soul. That was a phrase he never thought would leave a entity's mouth. There was a quirk of his lips, oh they just had to know.

" It is hard to come by, from the fact that this is the first I'm hearing of a being such as yourself who has taste like that. Humor me then, dear, what exactly does that entail? "

[deadeyesrealm]

Hearing the mortal fumble audibly as they took the lead was entertaining, but it was interesting the way there was only a brief hiccup in the man’s footwork before he changed to match their own. Adaptable, then. They would expect no less. And yet, before long, the mortal was daring to take the lead yet again, and Deadeyes smoothly fell into step with him once more, spinning on the toe of their boot and stepping out of the spin with a loud click of their spurs.

The Cowboy tilted their head at the apology that followed. The way Vigo spoke was so different to the others; not only in accent and verbiage, but in the the way he worked his thoughts around his words. Like he was playing a game, strategizing with his words alone—not that, for now, he really needed to strategize. For once. Deadeyes had no mind on tricking him; they were interested in information, yes, but the other Entities would dislike them as much as they hated this little nusiance, if they knew.

Not, of course, that he could truly know the scale of their similiarties, or that he might be able to trust Deadeyes at all. Trusting something so different, so powerful, would be a foolish thing to do for such a clever man.

“They say the older you get, the more refined your tastes become,” Deadeyes hummed vaguely. “Or I reckon that’s just me, considerin’. But I like a bit of complexity in my meals, is all, a complexity that just don’t come from the games my folks like runnin’. The dyin’ is too quick—they don’t even give y’ time to age your soul proper. Too flavorless. Cheap. Ah!” An idea visibly sparked and they held out one hand, flicking their wrist—and appeared between their fingers were four saltine crackers, held like a winning hand of playing cards.

“Your kind likes these little snacks, don’t they? They’re a very efficient and easy way for some calories, but they’re not a meal,” Deadeyes said. “Too many of mine have gotten used to these quick snacks, though. Nothing like things used to be. Nothing on a grander scale. But, ah… as they say.” The Entity pulled Vigo in the opposite direction, taking the lead for just a moment to avoid another set of dancers. “Be the change y’d like to see in the world, hmm?”

[deadeyesrealm]

[1] | @vigos-journal

There it was. So he did remember, after all. Aren’t you a clever one, Deadeyes thought, following along with the slightly shorter man’s dancing smoothly and evenly. They laughed, short and quiet and raspy, as Vigo promised not to make a scene. They truly were in very similar situations, in that regard. Not at all alike in power and knowledge, of course, but both with the need to stay quiet and hidden.

For what the other one wanted Deadeyes didn’t know. Escape, most likely. They couldn’t provide that, but they could potentially provide something like it. If they were a proper enough prospect, at least. Good enough, for their tastes.

Luckily, they were not very picky, and Vigo was very tantalizing.

“No, I reckon not. Wouldn’t be good for either of us,” they said, tilting their head. A smile reached their eyes at the mimicking, although otherwise their facial features were entirely hidden beneath the mask and the bandanna. “Oh, I pride myself on being a nuisance, though—thank you. Watch your tongue, though, little dogey.”

Deadeyes leaned forward and suddenly shifted to take the lead in the dance, just as the music sped up, their steps matching it easily. They leaned Vigo back, weight shifting to lean with him. “I’m one of those parasites too, mind. And I have not taken a soul in such a very long time,” they said, chuckling, before letting him up onto his feet proper. “Fortunately, the tastes my peers’re fonder of aren’t mine. The hope’n’despair don’t really do it for me, y’see—I’m a connoisseur of a good soul. Hard to come by in this Fog, though.”

[vigos-journal]

The clicking rattle of spurs was in time to the music of the ballroom as they approached Vigo, the sound emanating behind him. A figure in western-styled clothing, in dusty browns and grays, with a wide-brimmed hat and a mask of a rabbit’s skull, stopped beside him.

“Vigo, isn’t it?” the person said quietly enough, head tipping up and one hand reached in offering. “Care for a dance?” - @deadeyesrealm

No sooner did Vigo resigster the rattle of spurs did the smell of smoke & whisky hit their nose, his name uttered quietly enough for Vigo and only Vigo to hear as a dusty colored glove was held out with the offering.

An Entity, Vigo could tell. An Entity who's either been watching from a distance or heard the word from a select few of their kind Vigo had the pleasure of running into.

And this one was wanting to dance?

Unbelievable.

But...why did this one seem familiar? Vigo let out a slight, questioning scoff at the offer but shortly after the offering hand has taken. Vigo was curious and so far it seems Entities couldn't outwardly attack them...for now. Why not dance with death a little?

" You know my name but afraid I don't know yours, have we met before or did you pick up that name through the grape vine? "

[deadeyesrealm]

This prospect was an observant one, wasn’t he? Perceptive, but so was Deadeyes, watching the other’s eyes through the ram’s mask as the offer was made. There was a glint there, one of recognition. Familiarity, perhaps. They had indeed encountered each other before—briefly, of course, and Deadeyes had a way to never stick too long in someone’s mind—but more than that, Vigo seemed to recognize what they were.

Deadeyes took the offered hand, leading Vigo in a slow, steady walk to the ballroom floor. Deadeyes pulled them close, tipping their head up a little so that the wide-brimmed hat wouldn’t get in the way, and arranged their hands. “Lead, will you, little scientist?” they purred in a hushed tone. A vague accent hung from their words, tone somehow just as casual as it was dangerous. They let the music fill the silence, not answering the question, not until the two had begun to move.

“We’ve met, briefly,” Deadeyes said. “But I do have a difficult face to remember.”

Despite their unique getup, Deadeyes had a vested interest in not being recognized, or remembered, not until they wanted to reveal themselves. Pulling the strings of a prospect’s memory and mind had been something they had become quite accustomed and skilled at lately. After all, Deadeyes simply needed to get to know them. They had no need for the opposite, and did not need the meddling of their Entities before the time was right.

“You can call me whatever you like,” they continued. “Though keep it down, will you? There’s quite a few folks here I’d rather not get tangled with at the moment—wouldn’t want to cause a big scene, y’see.” They tilted their head to the side, blue eyes half-hidden by the mask settling on Vigo. “We’re a bit similar in that regard, aren’t we?”

[deadeyesrealm]

@fogs-masquerade-ball

Well… what a better time to quietly get to know these prospects and their Entities than at masquerade. Deadeyes wouldn’t mind mingling for a while.

Don’t know how active I will be on this blog, but will definitely be sending them out some~ The cowboy has a few people to bother!

[ask-the-dweets]

🌿 dwi + @deadeyesrealm — merry christmas, have a good luck kiss~

“Do NOT touch me”

There’s no chance the gun would work but it feels good to threaten with it anyway

[deadeyesrealm]

“If you say so. I’m sure you don’t need any of that good luck anyway, do ya, sweetheart~?”

Deadeyes looks thoroughly amused. Better get back to searching, Dwi!

[deadeyesrealm]

starter | @vigos-journal

For the most part, Deadeyes did not know any of the prospects by name. By their role, or appearance, or what they provided for their Entity, perhaps, but not the name that they called themselves, and spoke upon each other with.

They knew this one. They had heard of it, whispered in frustration and fury, where it had not meant to be heard.

Vigo.

This one had caused issues. Problems, for those that it really mattered to. Not to their peers, even to the ones that sought to kill them, but to Deadeyes’ peers. He had not played by the rules, or had found some way to bend them, the way some prospects inevitably could, and would. He had evaded capture, at least for some time, and whatever death or punishment a being of eldritch, unknowable power wrought on him. And one day, the whispered mentions of the clever little thorn in their side disappeared as quickly as they had begun.

Dealt with, Deadeyes assumed. And they were right—but now the little creature was back. Perhaps causing not as many problems as he had before, what with the way he performed in trials and was dropped back into a campfire just like the rest of them. Execution, then, had not been an Entity’s way of dealing with him. It had likely been a sort of death for him, but for whatever reason, he was back. Perhaps he had escaped his jailers, or perhaps he had been let free. Deadeyes neither knew nor cared. The thing they were most curious about was how this little prospect had gone and made such a nuisance of himself before.

Deadeyes waited for them at a place they found most fitting. It was more in-between than anything else in the Fog. It was wrapped in total darkness, cloying and billowing with a humid, thick black Fog, only lit from above briefly.

A Survivor jumped through the hatch, and Deadeyes reached forward. Their fingers closed in the back of Vigo’s poncho, stopping their descent into the darkness in a moment, leaving the Survivor suspended over nothing, though Deadeyes stood there in the black void of the Hatch as if it were solid ground.

“Vigo, correct?” they asked in a very even voice, like none of this was particularly strange. “The little scientist. You haven’t gone and made yourself a nuisance again, yet, have you?”

[deadeyesrealm]

starter | @wanderingsongbird

It was rare meeting one of the Survivors in the forests in-between realms. It was not a place those creatures frequented. Too scared to, or too fragile to. When they made it to the in-between forests, they were quick to leave, to find a useful destination to scavenge and rummage through, or to get back home. It was too empty for Killers, and too useless for others of their own ilk; it was a perfect place to hide, to wait, to think, when they needed a place to do those sort of things.

Just because such a locale was largely useless did not mean that no one traversed them, however. And such was the case now. Deadeyes sat on the forest floor, legs crossed, hands folded in their lap, gloves folded beside them. Their eyes were closed, their attention and focus elsewhere than the dense woodland around their shell, when the notion that someone had travelled through the Fog pinged off of their consciousness like a drop of water.

The Fog had warped nearby. Whatever had done it had not been an Entity, or anything of a similar strength. A prospect, then, most likely. And they were right. Deadeyes’ eyelids fluttered open. One of the Survivors, indeed. One with a strong presence. A lady, small and blonde, with a curious aura about her. Deadeyes’ interest piqued.

This one… The Songbird, wasn’t she? The one who played and sang, and kept the morale of her peers high. Deadeyes had heard of this one.

They put no effort into approaching. They had no need to. All it took was a little warping of the Fog on their own part, to lead the Songbird to them. A slightly-wider gap in the trees this way, a slightly-denser version the other, an unnoticeable shift in the scenery in the blink of an eye. Unnoticeable, except to the observant.

Was this Songbird one of the observant, they wondered?

[deadeyesrealm]

starter | @the-game-warden

This one looked like all the rest. Like all of the little prospects—the “Survivors”. But he wasn’t like them. He wasn’t a Killer, either, not a capital-K one anyway. But neither was he entirely outside of the game, like some of them tended to be. He must have been some Entity’s pet project, like some prospects just tended to be. Deadeyes did not know of his Entity, but they were sure they could learn, in due time.

They were, however, curious of the prospect’s role in the games. They’d not seen one like it before. They were a fifth player, and another killer—but not one that preyed. A protector. They were curious to learn more, and while they had done plenty of distant watching by now, it was always easier to get it straight from the horse’s mouth.

The clicking rattle of spurs and the soft sound of footfalls on dirt announced Deadeyes’ arrival to the lonesome campfire before they spoke. They did not greet the not-survivor immediately, not speaking at all until they had made their way to the campfire and gingerly taken a seat. Deadeyes rubbed their gloved hands together, as if cold, before raising them to the fire.

“It must be lonely out here by yourself,” they said, the wide brim of their hat still concealing their face. “Shouldn’t you be at some other Survivor’s camp? It can’t be safe, out here.” They tipped their head up, then, making eye contact with the not-survivor. Their own eyes were a piercing blue, just on the edge of what was reasonably natural, stark against their darker skin.

[deadeyesrealm]

Felix was still very much trying to find a way, any way, to get out of this place, and he had already done a lot of roaming around his own campfire area. Today was no different, but while he was wandering around the darkness and the trees that surrounded him, he came to a halt when he thought he saw something off in the distance. It looked like a person? Wearing a hat? Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him... "Hello?" He hesitantly called out after a moment of thought. There couldn't possibly be another person just roaming about the woods in his area, could there?

Wandering was something that Deadeyes did rather frequently, nowadays. Now that they were back in the realms of others’ creations and machinations, they preferred to find themselves of the outskirts of where their prospects called home. Hidden within the trees, close enough to wait and watch and listen, but far enough that all but the more curious of their number might come across them.

It was so happen that one of those equally-wandering little things found them. The prospect approached without an attempt for silence, the woodland debris underfoot betraying them before their speech did, and the figured in the woods, dressed in warm browns and tans, turned their head and tilted it, movements exaggerated by the wide-brimmed hat on their head.

“Hello,” Deadeyes responded evenly to the hesitant greeting. Their voice was muffled, just slightly, by the bandanna that covered the bottom half of their face. Their voice was light, but coarse, airy. “What brings one like you out this far?”

[deadeyesrealm]

I got an about page up and running and it includes a lot of information that you might want to know before interacting with Deadeyes! Basic lore and stuff like that.

You can check it out here... and I'm finally on a computer again which means I'll finally start to be able to send stuff out! Let's go~