Hollowed be Thy Name. ᴬᵘᵗᵒᵖˡᵃʸ

Affiliated with Citta.

[dissoul]

verdevegan:

Gar’s hands feel empty without a phone in them. He’s missing out on all the updates on chirper, and he has no doubt his followers are wondering why he hasn’t updated his blog in days! His green eyes scan storefronts, looking for something that might sell a smartphone. Or even just an Apple store with an iPad he could use to log in! But there wasn’t nothing like that any—

“Woah!” He stops abruptly, having almost run crotch-first into the butt of some dude in front of him, reaching for his—PHONE! A twinge of excitement sparks through his nerves at the sight of it, cancelling out whatever annoyance might’ve come out from being blocked. And then Gar registers who blocked him. Not that he recognized who it was, but that he recognized a fellow furry colorful weirdo. “Aha!! Hey, I didn’t know there were more people like me here—or anywhere, really. And don’t worry about it. I totally didn’t see the embarrassingly clumsy move that just happened. Don’t fret.”

    Kurt was smiling - actually, genuinely smiling - for the first time in too long. He’d been lonely even before he came to this city, and moreso after his arrival. It was nice to see a friendly face, even if it wasn’t someone he knew. “Oh, there are plenty of people like us where I’m from! Some more furry than others, of course, but one of my dearest friends, Hank, is incredibly furry. As is Logan.”

    “And I’ll have you know I dropped my phone because I only have three fingers, not because I’m clumsy.” He held a hand up in demonstration, wiggling his fingers for the boy. “Anyway, unique physical traits aside for the moment, my name is Kurt Wagner. Better known as Nightcrawler.” He extended his hand further, reaching for the boy’s to shake. “And you are?”

[dissoul]

                                              @verdevegan

    There were things to be done, people to save and whatnot, but Kurt was having enough trouble working a cell phone. He typically chose not to use them due to a combination of being technologically challenged, terrible at keeping up with the trends, and constantly dropping the things. It was much easier to just use an earpiece when on the field, or simply ‘porting in to talk to someone he wanted to see.

    “Wh... what is this ‘Hivebook’? And ‘Hivechat’? I don’t...” And there goes his phone. As soon as the thing fell, Kurt mumbled a curse under his breath and reached for the thing, only to realize he’d been standing in someone’s way. “Oh, I’m--” He stopped as soon as his gaze fell on the boy, only to have a smile turn up his lips. It was nice to see a furred fellow no matter their colour. “Sorry about that. Though... it’s odd that I haven’t met you before. I’d like to think I know a good number of furred men.”

[dissoul]

invisiblize:

❝It’s nice.❞  Cole’s voice carries through the thin space of a rooftop and reaches far due to a lack of objects to obscure its path. He takes slow steps towards the stranger up ahead, a few feet of room between them still. As soon as he reaches a parallel to the man, Cole glances to the side, though only for a moment before he looks once more to the skyscrapers in the distance.  ❝Being here. Up and away, where they can’t see.❞

❝But I still see them.❞  he breathes out these words, his voice scratchy yet his tone tender. Lights twinkle in the distance as several buildings light up across the city, the world illuminated while Cole and his company stand in shadow. It may not be an ideal spot for people-watching, but the blond is comforted in knowing he is still connected to the world below.

❝That’s not why you like it, though…❞ He cocks his head to the side, blue eyes turned to the other man in quiet contemplation. Pursing his chapped lips, he speaks with a second assumption, emphasis placed on his particular choice of words.  ❝You come here to be lonely.❞ 

    Kurt might’ve jumped if he had much left to fear. He was certainly surprised by the fact that he hadn’t heard or seen anyone approaching. It had been a long time since someone snuck up on him so easily. He turned, eyes widening just slightly at what he assumed was a young man. He seemed... different, though. Not quite human, though likely not a mutant. He crouched down near the edge of the roof, tail gently swishing in the wind as he patted the space next to him with his hand, inviting the boy closer. Kurt sensed no ill-intent from him, and he had no desire to fight anyway. Not now. 

    “I see them, too. They’re out there, and they need me, but... you’re right. Sometimes, even superheroes need to get away from it all.” Kurt sighed softly, hands resting on his knees as his gaze scanned the city. Thousands, maybe millions of people out there... most far more blessed than he. Sometimes he wondered if joining Professor Xavier was the right choice. If he wouldn’t have been better off just staying with Father Wagner in Germany. And then he realized that was likely his lack of soul talking. Funny how something as simple as selling one’s soul can turn them bitter and selfish and tired. 

    “And why did you come here? The view is nice, but there are plenty of rooftops in such a large city. Or was it perhaps a coincidence?” Kurt grinned to himself like he’d just remembered a funny joke. And he had. “The Lord works in mysterious ways... perhaps He brought you here to keep me company, or vice versa.”

[dissoul]

perfidess:

NOW SHE FELT LIKE SHE COULD FINALLY ALLOW THAT SMILE, and so it touched her features, though cautiously still. this was Kurt, but it was like that guy in the weird suit said– maybe it wasn’t her Kurt. hard to tell, and she’d hardly consider the haircut a drastic enough change to call the whole “alternate timeline” thing an option. she maintained her guard, but still her heart warmed at the familiarity. his kindness hadn’t changed, and that was a good sign.

folding her arms, Rogue’s smile couldn’t help but liven, and to this she only shook her head. it was nice, having someone she had reason to trust around for once. friendly faces were too few here, and though her heart ached for Logan, she knew that was a tired territory she’d already tread many times. too bad it was uneven ground. but Kurt was a different case– that was, until he started down a cryptic road, and her arms unraveled, taken aback. the joy vanished from her face.

                                                        … did he just say he died?

          “wait, y– what’re you sayin’ now?” unnerved, she tried another smile on for size, but she didn’t believe it, so it was gone real fast, “you ain’t makin’ sense– you… died?”

  Remorse quickly turned to near horror. She didn’t know? No, how could she not know? He’d seen it from Heaven, they all mourned him. Dark brows knit together in confusion, mouth opened to contest her question until - timelines. It had to be. Unless her memory had been erased. But why would someone erase the memory of only his death if they wanted to take advantage of her? Why not erase all memory of him entirely?

  He sighed, a deep exhale that deflated his lungs entirely. “Nothing is ever easy with us, is it?” He paused, taking a moment to reach out to her. Gently, of course - he knew and completely understood her fears - to rest a hand on her shoulder. “To make a very long story short, I was getting Hope to safety when Bastion killed me. I went to Heaven, defeated Azazel, came back to life, defeated my foster mother, died again briefly and, well... here we are.” His face turned up into a wry smile at the summary of what had been the most trying months of his life. Death? Life. It sounded so simple laid out like that. “Did you forget, perhaps? Or... have things been different for you?”

[dissoul]

                                               @invisiblize

  Kurt was no stranger to what normal humans might call fantasy. He’d fought off demons, witches, and crazed lunatics bent on destroying the world - and that was only including his family. The mutant had literally died and come back to life, if one could call his current state of being ‘living’. Consciousness trapped in a husk created by demons, soul bargained off in exchange for the chance to come back and help his friends. And for what? Kurt Wagner was a man of faith, certainly, but he was no longer a man with a purpose. He lived to help others, and the moment he was no longer useful - the moment he no longer wished to help others - the bamfs would do whatever they wanted with him, both body and soul. Nothing could scare him anymore. Kurt wasn’t sure he was even truthfully able to feel fear at all anymore.

  With the Bamfs gone, he should feel relieved. They couldn’t keep tabs. Couldn’t linger as constant reminders that he was no longer welcome in Heaven. But without his little soul keepers (as he’d attempted to affectionately dub them), Kurt felt even more empty than usual. 

  He had a rule. One hour a day of wallowing, less if he didn’t help anyone. And he always did so where he was out of the way. That night, it was a rooftop, well concealed in shadow. He was certain no one would find or bother him there. Kurt didn’t mind. It was best he stay alone, perhaps. After all, who would want to be rescued by a hero without a soul?

[dissoul]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ Cyrran watched the other make himself comfortable out of the corner of his eye, pulling out two mugs for their tea. For being new to the city, the young man was exceptionally upbeat, or at the very least, good at coming across that way. Not that the Inquisitor himself had been particularly shaken, his fascination with everything new having taken the forefront of his thoughts. 

Now, though, the luster has worn off. 

❝Kurt. It’s a pleasure to meet you,❞ he stated, retrieving some sugar and cream and setting both out. As he waited for their tea to finish, he turned and leaned back on the counter, resting his arms across his chest. At the mention of ‘elf’ as a nickname, a wry smile tugged at his lips before the focus shifted to the strange beings that roamed the district. With a quiet exhale, Cyrran rubbed at his neck and gave a slight shrug. ❝I’m afraid there’s little I can tell you about them. No one who lives in the district has ever become one of them, needless to say. They are solemn things –generally they stay out of people’s way.❞

  “The pleasure is all mine, Cyrran.” Kurt returned his attention from the mutants outside to Cyrran, offering yet another pleasant smile for a time. Eventually he lets it fall to a more thoughtful, pensive expression. 

  He hummed under his breath, a finger moving to brush across his chin. “I see... Well, it is a blessing no one here can become a mutant. It’s not something I would wish on any human, though I wonder if they might be willing to talk to me one day. My worries lie more in joining them in their nightly... routines. Could it be some kind of brainwashing, perhaps?” It seemed like it would be more sad to simply ignore them. If this city was accepting of Kurt, why did they do nothing to aid the mutants living here? Of course, nowhere is free from discrimination. Not even Heaven, and Kurt would know. “And they don’t seem hostile, another good sign. Mutantkind has been through so much... I can only hope we fare better here.”

[dissoul]

ubiytsar:

        Many had tried and failed to sneak up on her, earning nothing more than a condescending roll of her eyes or a prompt beat-down if ill intentions were involved. She was the Black Widow, the Slavic Shadow; she wouldn’t be caught off guard so easily. 

                                        Unless a certain teleporter thought that it would be a good idea to do just that. 

       Unfortunately, thinking fast for Natasha involved her instinctively drawing back her first, ready to throw it into his throat. Wind the attacker, give her time to decide the next move. In the few seconds that it took her to recognise Nightcrawler, however, she redirected her blow to his shoulder, not at all softening the force of the punch. 

      “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She demanded, fist clenching as though she were about to throw another hit. It was more annoyance than ire that she felt, so she simply let out a long-suffering sigh instead. “Had your fun?”

  He couldn’t say he was surprised at her punch, though he was surprised she only struck his shoulder. He was expecting much worse from the great Black Widow. Despite the pain he felt, Kurt wore a smile as wide as the one he’d had back at the ‘welcome back to life’ party his family had thrown.

  He chuckled at the question, a short nod following. “I have. And you? If I didn’t know any better, I might guess you went easy on me, Frau Romanoff.”He rubbed at what he was certain would form an excellent bruise with one hand, the other extended politely either to shake or kiss her own. A show of good faith - no more tricks. At least for the time being. “As for what I’m doing, I was just checking your form. Keeping you on your toes. Also making sure that you are, in fact, you and not a clone of some sort.”

[dissoul]

  It’s straight up been a month (don’t tell the ml) but I’m back and ready to actually get stuff done! I’ll be replying to things I owe as inspiration allows, but for now go ahead and like this for a starter! I’ll be selective, and they’ll likely be short!

[priceofpromises-deactivated2018]

starter for @dissoul

Borrowing a fiddle was by far the easy part of his plan—cheering up a stranger being the difficult, final step to it. After all, his end goal was to bring a smile to the face of someone he’d seen never before, someone stranger than most.

Indeed, Kili was curious over the blue hue and sharp features the man possessed, but he would be a cruel man to leave someone to wallow. He repeated such words of encouragement in his head, forcing himself into action, only pausing to breathe once he claimed another’s instrument for his use.

His footsteps slowed until he reached to the bench where his gloomy friend rested. There he paused with a smile, subsequently clearing his throat before his song, his gaze softening as he strummed the first few notes.

“This song is for you, my grim-faced friend.” Kili announced, fully unaware of the man charging toward him from behind. At least he’d managed a minute-long melody before the owner of the fiddle caught up to him.

[dissoul]

  Perhaps it was silly of him, to sit on a bench, tail curled pathetically around his waist as he sulked in self-pity. Such a public display was beyond shameful, and were his friends present, they would’ve no doubt whipped him back into shape (or he would’ve put on a brave face for them first). He’d just lost so much. His soul, his true love, his dearest friend (albeit temporarily), and now even the Bamfs were nowhere in sight. To think that the bearers of his soul were no longer present was... disconcerting. At least with the little demons nearby, he knew his soul was in no danger.

  Just as he was mid-sigh, Kurt’s gaze shifted up to a... curious man. He was rather small and wore an expression so cheery, Kurt couldn’t help the faint smile that overcame him. He listened gratefully - it wasn’t every day that a stranger went to such lengths to cheer up a soulless demon like himself - until an... interesting development arrived. Yelling and shaking its fist. Kurt’s head cocked to the side slightly, attention shifting from the musical man to the very angry looking one fast approaching.

  “Perhaps I’m misreading the situation but I do believe we should begin running, my musically talented friend.” Kurt stood quickly, motioning with a nod of his head to the -- oh, now they were yelling. Well, no further explanation was needed, at least. “Tell me, how strong is your stomach?”

[dissoul]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ Cyrran liked to consider himself a good judge of character. Much of the time, he had been able to tell when people wished him harm just from the way their eyes flickered or mouth twitched. As abrupt as this visitor was in his arrival, his countenance –and really, demeanor overall– did not seem hostile in any notable way. If anything, he really did just want to… talk. How simple. 

❝…no, it is no trouble,❞ he finally murmured, stepping aside and opening the door wider. With a vague wave of his hand, he motioned the other to step inside before shutting the door behind him. Wandering into the small kitchen area, he started a pot of tea as the other spoke. ❝Mutants? I assume you mean those that wander the district.❞ Glancing over his shoulder, he angled his head and added quietly, ❝But before we get into that, I believe names are in order? Mine is Cyrran.❞

  Kurt nodded his head politely in thanks and wasted no time in making himself at home. “My thanks for your hospitality!” That was a bit hasty perhaps, but he was eager to learn as much as he could about this new place and (with some luck) make an ally at the same time. One can never have too many. At least not until they betray you. Then any is too many. But a kind stranger’s home was no place for such thoughts.

  “Of course! Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner. Most people know me as Nightcrawler, but my name is Kurt Wagner. If you’re fond of nicknames, you can call me elf - I get that one rather often.” His tail wagged gently behind him, tapping on the edge of his seat with both excitement and nerves. He had yet to be kicked out, attacked, or scrutinized, but he’d also had his fair share of quick turnarounds. And with those mutants out there just... singing or... whatever they were doing, Kurt couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t end up in a similar state. “As for the mutants - yes, those would be the very ones. Normally I would pay them little mind, but as a mutant myself, I can’t help but wonder what might happen if I stay here too long.”

[dissoul]

  I added a verses page (be mindful of the autoplay) ! Primarily for indies, but feel free to take advantage even if you’re in Citta! I’ll eventually add more, I’m certain.

[dissoul]

virassxn:

﴾ ➼ ﴿ When Loghain had come to collect him, Cyrran had told himself it was best to avoid such an encounter in the future. He didn’t appreciate being yanked out of his hut, good intentions aside, and deep down he was also aware that it was important not to isolate himself. Work would resume soon, he’d told himself, and he needed to get into the habit of conversing with others again. The ache in his chest that threatened to suffocate him was always present; it wouldn’t leave, and he had to accept that. It was better to swallow the pain and merely press forward.

So when a knock came at his door, followed by an unfamiliar voice, Cyrran repressed the flicker of offense that crossed his features. It was not a crime for visitors to drop by, even those he had no knowledge of. So, with a sigh, he pushed to his feet and crossed the short distance to tentatively open the door.

Guarded but maintaining a passive expression, the elf tilted his head and eyed the stranger questioningly. He didn’t even blink at the other’s appearance, merely murmuring, ❝You wish to… talk? About what, might I ask?❞

  Some might’ve been a bit... put off by the stranger. Between the subtle hints of annoyance (invisible to some, but not to one who’d made a profession out of getting to know people), and the very un-human ears, the man certainly wasn’t what the average person would call normal or approachable. Kurt, however, didn’t care at all. He’d made polite conversation with both angels and demons, even a God on a few occasions. This was nothing.

  “Only if it’s no trouble.” He maintained both a positive tone and friendly grin. Best to put his best foot forward, after all. He hadn’t scared the man away with his looks, so doing so with his attitude would be beyond tragic. “I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy or not interested in company. It’s just... I’ve heard an awful lot about mutants here. Do you know much about them? They don’t seem quite the same as the type I’m used to, but I do my best not to judge.”

[doorknobwielder]

“Why’d I hit you in the face with a yo-yo? I can totally explain myself. It’s because it’s National Yo-Yo Day so I was just celebrating that! You can’t be mad at me now.”

[dissoul]

  “Does that mean I can hit you back? In the spirit of the holiday, of course.”

[dissoul]

                                                @virassxn​

  Mutant. He’d heard the word whispered in his presence a thousand -- no. A million times, but he hadn’t expected to hear it in Hive City. Something about this place just... didn’t feel like Earth. At least not the Earth he knew. An alternate universe or timeline, perhaps. One where Mutants weren’t nearly as common (or hated, thankfully). But here, in his new home, ‘District Alpha’ the word was on everyone’s lips. In the dark of night, when strange sounds that resembled prayer filled the air, Kurt couldn’t wait any longer. What were they? Why were they here? 

  He could’ve asked them himself, but he wasn’t sure he’d get an answer. So what better choice than to ask a neighbour? After all, there were certainly enough huts near his to suggest that someone might be kind and knowledgeable enough to help. 

  “Knock, knock!” His light tone matched up perfectly with knuckles tapping against the door. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m your new neighbour. Would you happen to have a moment to lend an ear?”

[dissoul]

prisontoys:

“There’s worse things than having someones arms get chopped off.” She wrinkled her nose at the warning. She was perfectly capable of handling herself. In most cases anyways, when hiding spots were there to be found at a moments notice. Which was rare.

“Why did you call me sweet?” 

  “You make a fine point, sad as it is for someone so small to know such a harsh truth.” Kurt knew better than most not to judge a book by its cover, but he couldn’t help the parental instinct he felt. Years of teaching, then time spent as a priest, then back to teaching... it was in his nature to protect.

  “Oh! You speak some German? It doesn’t quite mean sweet, a closer translation might be ‘sweetie’. It’s a pet name. A habit of mine, forgive me if it bothers you. I’ve been told I can be a bit... overbearing from time to time.”

[dissoul]

❝Never discuss personal hygiene with a bridge troll.❞

                  Meme || Accepting (Sunday only for group members)

  “Isn’t that a little racist? After all, I was always told that a demon couldn’t be holy, but I proved the nonbelievers wrong. Perhaps we might one day meet a bridge troll with excellent hygiene, my vertically challenged friend.” He smirked for good measure, a hand patting Kili on the back. “See? Doesn’t make you feel too good, does it? Being stereotyped like that.” Of course it was all an elaborate joke. He knew from what the stories told that a troll would likely crush or eat anyone fool enough to pester them. And despite his recklessness, being crushed and-slash-or eaten was far from on his to-do list.

[dissoul]

prisontoys:

“Oh! Um! Y’know!”

“Hobbies.”

  He’s tempted to challenge her, but who was he to judge? He’d seen (and done) worse in his swashbuckling days. “Fair enough, I suppose. Do take care of yourself however, Schätzchen. Don’t pick fights you aren’t reasonably certain you can win.”