sharp-set

for greed all nature is too little

[faminemade]

Anyone in particular you’re interested in meeting or getting to know?

                   “That’s a long, long list pal. Not many people i nthis town I don’t want to get to know in one way or another. Though, I suppose getting to know my fellow man eaters would be pretty cool.”

[faminemade]

How many people have you eaten?

                 “You know, it’s not great etiquette to ask a man about his diet like that. I don’t really count- I’ve been alive a long time, and used to eat a lot more than I do now early on. Probably several hundred by now?”

[faminemade]

How’d you enjoy being with your powers, and how are you feeling now that they’re back?

                    “How’d I like not havin’ ‘em? It was fucking weird. Not being cold for once was a plus, but other than that I didn’t care for it much. Felt too exposed- Forgot how shit my hearing used to be. Glad to be back to normal, you know?”

[faminemade]

you're hard to get hands on. planning on coming out to play any time soon?

              “Depends on who’s askin’. I’m a pretty busy man- But don’t worry, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me around town real soon.”

[faminemade]

[faminemade]

                          He can’t remember the last time he’d been able to enjoy warmth. Long as he might’ve, the wendigo wasn’t a beast of the desert. Even a normal summer’s heat tended to rub him the wrong way, preferring to coop himself up in a house full of air conditioners.

                          But something’s changed. He wasn’t sure what, nor why, but his hunger’s drowned, senses dulled, and body warmed. Of course Desmond couldn’t resist the urge to enjoy this in it’s fullest, quickly finding the most optimum space to sunbath on his street- Some poor sap’s roof, it seemed.

                          “Sorry mate, if you want me to move you’re gonna have to roll me off yourself.”

[faminemade]

adrikegorov‌:

Attention had never been something he was a fan of. Adrik left the attention and limelight to his brother and he kept to the background. The shadows. Cliche as it may have been, but he preferred it that was. As if to answer the other’s question, there was the slightest touch of a smirk as the cigarette was pulled from his lips. And he shook his head.

But he watched, his attention focused on the other as he slid into the chair across from him. Adrik always offered, it was polite to do so, and despite what people thought of him - he still had manners. It was when they took him up on those offers that he questioned why he did so in the first place. He wasn’t exactly one for small talk. The box was pulled from his jacket pocket and set on the table, lighter carefully placed atop it before the tips of his fingers moved to push it closer to the other.

“By chance.”

                             The quiet sort have never bothered him. Desmond could very well fill enough silence for a whole room of people if given the chance, sometimes even when not. He found it odd, however- Why bother leaving the house if one didn’t like dealing with the masses?

                            Not skipping a beat, thin fingers mimicked the other’s movements by carefully reaching across the table to pull the items closer to himself. Freeing a cigarette with a practiced ease, he took great care in lighting it, handling the flame as though it were a weapon before sliding both lighter and box back to his companion.

                            “A shame, that.” Smoke curled from his lips as he spoke, seemingly more infatuated with the aesthetic of smoking than any thing else. “Seeing as you attract enough of it.”

[faminemade]

marioninchains‌:

“Yeah, I-I don’t know what to tell you… I found it like that?” he offered weakly. Maybe he had touched it, and then dropped it, and then frantically tried to hide its broken pieces, but they didn’t, like, Know That. He didn’t do well with waiting around, and it’d just been sitting there on the shelf, calling his name. How was he supposed to know that it was sharp? An edge had neatly sliced his thumb, and he’d dropped it in surprise, mostly. The door had swung open before he could finish hiding his crime, nudging it under the side table with his foot.

“But you probably have to take care of… that, now, so I’m just gonna…” he edges towards the other door, hoping to escape before they realized it was broken, and not just on the ground.

                  Surprising nobody, this is not the first time Desmond had found himself in a situation such as this. In fact, the most shocking part of it all was that he wasn’t the culprit this time around. Blinking slowly, his gaze drags from the man, down to the shards of glass littering the floor, then up to the shelf and the now vacant space on it’s very end.

                  “Oh, come on man, you’ve gotta do better than that.” Voice tinged with amusement, he carefully stepped around the small pile of evidence, carelessly brushing past the stranger in favor of gripping the wooden base mounted to the wall. It took some finessing, but with a tight hold and the brunt of his weight, the Wendigo managed to pull screws from drywall, the left half of the shelf falling free and dumping the rest of it’s contents on the floor. 

                  “One broken thing is suspicious as hell. Now it just looks like the shelf gave out.”

[faminemade]

ya bitch is back from her impromptu vacay and ready to really tuck in with interactions so like this post for one (1) cannibal to try to convince you muse to partake in some questionably legal activities

[faminemade]

borrowd-time‌:

@faminemade

There were a wide range of things he did around the town that Jaxon had somehow volunteered himself for in a moment of judgment lapse. Often these were accompanied by alcohol, yes, but occasionally they did actually involve his attempts to be a better person, or just a person, and not one transfixed by his own needs. Anyone knowing Jaxon, however, was aware of how it was always a fifty-fifty shot what his motives were. That morning they were entirely with good intentions, mutual agreement and just a hint of babysitting monsters. 

The broom held in one hand, lifted for the third time in as many minutes, the end of it prodding at the lump of what he was marginally sure was still among the living flesh and bones in a lanky jumble of sleep. Reasoning for it was simple logic; if he used a shovel it would have hurt worse if he had to swing it and Jaxon was a better friend than that, usually. 

“Time to rise and shine sleeping beauty.” The lack of response tempted Jaxon to roll his eyes and prompted another nudge with the wide end of aforementioned broom. “Get up you creepy bastard, you’re not dead yet…I think." 

Difficult to tell as he only really had the view of blankets and partial hints of a razor-sharp shoulder here, messy dark hair there; somehow it all fit together into one bed-sprawled Wendigo but Jaxon wasn’t there to play connect the dots. He was there to wake the bloodthirsty idiot up so he didn’t go all Donner party on the town and have to be murdered off; when he had agreed to check in on the matter he hadn’t known it was going to be a weekly ordeal if Desmond disappeared from public view and decided to to crawl back into the tempting confines of slumber. But, whatever, he didn’t mind as much as he liked to insist he did just for the sake of being dramatic.

”Dammit, if I have to dump ice water on your unconscious ass I will.“ A final warning, a very grave one indeed. But justified as Jaxon had spent the past hour navigating Desmond’s home, turning off wailing alarm clocks before getting to the task at hand and finding it, predictably, as difficult as ever.

Of course.

                     It was somewhat akin to trying to rouse a bear in the dead of winter. The deeper one ventured into his humble abode, the darker it got, thick, curtains drawn tight to block out the sun’s harsh rays from the depths of his homemade den. Sparsely furnished save for the bare essentials, the entire place felt almost clinical, right down to the permanent chill settled into the air, AC on high year round.

                    But by then, his guest should have been more than used to traversing this frozen wasteland. Though something he loathed, their arrangement was something Desmond found necessary given his near narcoleptic tendencies. Still, it didn’t mean he had to like it. 

                    The consistent prodding didn’t garner a single reaction, the Wendigo’s body still as a corpse where it lay tangled in his sheets. It’s wasn’t until about the forth time that handle neared him that instinct deigned the movement important enough to move for, one skeletal hand shooting from it’s place beneath his pillow to latch onto the wooden rod with a white-knuckle grip.

                      It’s was a half victory at best. A deep, throaty growl emanated from somewhere under the comforter, a firm yank given to the broom before he’s pushing it aside. Wordless as it was, anyone familiar with this task would know the warning for what it truly meant:

                    Do that again and I’ll break it.

[faminemade]

adrikegorov‌:

Folie A Deux had been both a blessing and a curse for the god. There was a certain freedom here for him, an escape from the world that seemed to bog him down so much. But violence and chaos didn’t seem to play favorites when it came to species - they all felt it. Which meant he felt it to.

He lost no power here.

Still, it was quiet compared to the other places he’d been. Contact was slim to none, and they allowed him to come and go as he pleased - without the expectation of taking sacrifices in tow. So as he sat, cigarette against his lips, empty glass in front of him, he eyed his company. Or, well, the person that seemed as if they were debating his company. 

“Sit. Speak.” He paused, the pull of the cigarette drawing smoke, which then proceeded to roll from his lips as he continued. “Or don’t, but make your decision now and quit staring.”

                               “Not one for attention, then?” Came his amused remark, lightly surprised to finally have been caught in the act. People watching wasn’t exactly the word he’d use for it; But there was something distinctly interesting about watching the many strange individuals mulling about this little town they’re in.

                              Yet still he found himself sliding into the offered seat, half turned to hike one arm up on the back of his chair. The same hand lifted then, two fingers coming to rest just in front of his lips. A halfhearted pantomime as though he had his own cigarette.

                              “One to spare, by chance?”

[won-der-land89]

[faminemade]

tag dump ill also be replying to some starters later tonight or in the morning, but anyone’s also free to hmu for some plotting  ♥

[faminemade]

DESMOND KANE shares our delusions. They are UNKNOWN, they are a WENDIGO who looks just like ANDY BIERSACK. They are a RESIDENT. While they might be CHARMING, sometimes they get MANIPULATIVE. 

Gaunt thing, with the hollow gaze; hollow body; hollow bones. Desmond can hardly remember a time where his thoughts weren’t all consumed by that of hunger, aching for what would never satisfy him. 

Once he’d been the prodigal son, a man of pure, hedonistic greed. All the stars in the sky would not have been enough for him, a gluttony so vast it’s no wonder he’d been touched by the wendigo’s spirit. Regardless, he’s never disclosed just what exactly he’d done to finally push himself over the edge; To become something truly monstrous. Only that he alone is to blame.

Desmond’s had many years to come to terms with his new existence-- How many exactly, he doesn’t bother counting anymore. Despite staring down the barrel of eternity, he lives his life day by day, always seeking out a new interest to distract his tunnel-visioned thoughts.

T R I V I A

Desmond has a very high prey drive, meaning he has a strong desire to hunt and kill. Years of dealing with this has granted him the self control to suppress it, however, back in the day, much like some dogs, he’d end up chasing anything or anyone that ran near him.

Almost always chewing gum- He carries at least three packs with him at all times. There’s no sating his hunger, but having something to chew on is at least... comforting.

He smells of wilted flowers; Doused in perfumes to cover up the subtle scent of decay that always seems to cling to his skin.

So many piercings. So many tattoos.

He’s pretty much the epitome of bastard, latching on to whoever catches his interest and dropping them the moment they begin to bore him. A bad habit, but one he can’t seem to break.

A B I L I T I E S 

LONGEVITY: To be quite honest, Desmond has no clue for how long he’ll live. Far longer than a normal human, he’s sure, as aging has all but ceased. Though uncertain overall, what he does know is that with food, comes power-- As long as he’s fed, he should be fine... Right?

NATURAL PREDATOR: With hunger comes the drive to sate it; A wendigo’s skill in tracking, stalking, hunting their prey is hard to match. Improved sense of smell, sight, and hearing aids in their work, paired with stamina and endurance strong enough to let them prowl for days.

WINTER’S CHILL: A creature of the north, associated with frost and all things relating to it, Desmond finds himself impervious to any chill- His own body temperature is downright frigid as well.

W E A K N E S S E S

FIRE: Despite his inclination for warmer climates, Desmond has an instinctual fear of fire, and too much of it can trigger a blind panic. Even the smallest burns take ages to heal.

INSATIABLE HUNGER: Cursed for his sins and greed, Desmond will never eat his fill. Though indulging in the flesh of a human (or humanoid) sates his desire to hunt, provides strength, and clears his mind, it does nothing at all to ease the ache in his stomach calling for more.

DEAD SLEEP: A being meant for hibernation, Desmond sleeps like the dead-- He can be near impossible to wake, and rarely takes being roused early well. In times of severe injury as well as going prolonged periods of time without food, he’ll be prone to sleeping more, if not downright falling into a miniature ‘coma’. 

C O N N E C T I O N S

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) literally hit me up for anything but uhh here’s some rad shit that I think would be Especially Cool

His former sponsor, of which I have no set ideas for, but probably had a hell of a time trying to get this fucker in line. They’d likely not be on the... best of terms.

Family? Family. I don’t have any set headcanons yet so really just come @ me.

Any friendships, flings, enemies, etc. He’s been here awhile-- It’s reasonable he’d know people.