Eye for an Eye

I'll watch you suffer, this time. But you'll die slower, which is my treat. affiliated with citta alveare

[brittsmemes]

ASK ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY CHARACTER!!!

or have your muse ask my muse something about them either: 

out of curiosity 

for the sake of character development 

or for the sake of your muse getting to know my muse better 

because it’s always nice for muses to know the little things about each other that no one else does.

[grieveexistence-blog]

ofeternae:

          the other’s words come suddenly blunt. taking a glance down at her own attire, djeeta offers a shrug of acknowledgement. perhaps the garb is a bit too flashy, even for her own tastes, but she never argued the appearances of any class outfit. there was no point to—it is a symbol of status. 

          ❝ This is a traditional outfit threaded by ancient Glorybringers of the past. I am lucky enough to be chosen as a disciple and to master the skills of one so highly praised back at home. I feel as if it would be waste of potential if I were to leave it alone after coming to this city. ❞

You take a moment to take in the girl’s explanation. As ridiculous as it is, there’s not a shred of embarrassment coming from her. Huh, kids these days were extremely bold.

“...That’s stupid. “Tradition” is just a waste of time. If you’re going to fight, why hinder yourself with an incompatible outfit, even if ancient whatever wore it as well? You’re not doing yourself any favors.”

You shrug. It’s inefficient, that’s probably why you’re so focused on helping this stranger you’ve just met.

[grieveexistence-blog]

alchemicalvariable:

Okay, so she was going to give it to him rather than tell him where he could find it. That was a bit of a damper, but he had to admit it was probably the smart thing for her to do. At least he knew it was underground somewhere, now. He could take some time to earn her trust.

Varian nodded and took the paper, briefly scanning over it (the raccoon on his shoulder also looked at it, but of course, Rudiger could not read and was just imitating his master). There were some unfamiliar names there, likely things invented in this time period, but he was fairly confident he could figure them out. It was just a matter of making them…he’d likely have to get use of the academy’s chem lab without someone peering over his shoulder. The gears were clearly turning in his head.

A fully stocked lab was quite a powerful incentive to hang in front of him, and it was clear in his eyes that she had him hooked. He didn’t seem to notice how much of an open book he was and tried to keep his expression neutral as he slipped the paper into his apron pocket.

“Yeah, okay. It’ll take some doing, but I can work with it.” Some of his confidence seemed to have returned. “I’ll meet with you at the entrance to Alpha in a week.” That…sounded official, right? And he wouldn’t have to go too far because he’d hopefully be living up at Eta by then…

Hook, line, and sinker.

Varian acted tough, like most teenagers do, but he’s extremely easy to read. You’re a pretty observant person, but you’re certain even a bat could see his intentions. You’d laugh at how terrible he was at hiding his excitement, if you still laughed.

“That’s the go-getter attitude I’m looking for.” Your usual unchanging tone gave away your sarcasm. You were kind of trying to be nice. Probably.

No, not at all. 

“Entrance of Alpha, this time next week then. I’ll have your Ivory then. If you need to contact me? Don’t. I’m a very busy woman.” You’ll have someone watching over him, just in case, but it’s better he don’t know that.

“Worst case scenario, look for some weirdos in funny hats, wearing mirrored goggles and purple face masks. They’ll probably yell something about ChemiCo Contra. They work for me.” And hopefully there’ll be a whole lot more of them soon. “And they can let me know.”

You give him a nod and a simple wave as you walk off in the opposite direction. The cogs of your plan are moving effortlessly. Perhaps this’ll be easier than you thought.

[grieveexistence-blog]

isilugay:

Mina jumps when the chair comes flying at her, barely managing to dodge it. Instead of just bouncing off the wall, though, it explodes with a noise like breaking crystal, instantly transmuted into the same purple dust. What the fuck?

…Come to think of it, why and how is she back here?

It’s honestly creepy to hear Black talk that way, so emotionless even as she’s covered in…what used to be a fellow agent, if Elro’s not mistaken. Far creepier than it would have been had she screamed, cried, done literally anything but knelt there in the Ivory and dust, watching it sift through her fingers.

“I didn’t think you people grieved. You’re just angry, and misguided, and-” Seized with a sudden spite, Mina cocks her shotgun and shoots the ground between herself and the Agent - but what comes out isn’t the usual flaming bullet, only a billow of steam. What the actual fuck?

“Rrrrrgh!!” Mina drops to the ground, nearly punches the floor with everything she’s got but thinks better of it at the last second. “Do you - do you know what the hell this place is, anyway?”

You hear the pirate throw a tantrum, like the immature child she is. You hear the shot, but as long as it’s not hitting you, what do you care? Why should you care about anything right now? You live an immortal life, with severe chronic pain, following a religious power structure you’re not entirely sure you believe in, and the only person that might have understood all that, all of you, is now goo and dust between your fingers. 

Your fingers aren’t even real.

She asks that question, that stupid question, and you finally turn to face her. Even this version of her continues to be a thorn to your side. But fine, you’ll indulge the girl. You’re sure you look like shit, what with their remains splattered all over you, but what did that matter? After all, —

“This is a dream, you idiot. Usually the figments of my imagination know that, at the very least. Unless the answer you were looking for was the One Concern base. In which case, you’re even more stupid than I though. But maybe I’m the stupid one, talking to a dream pirate.”

You shrug. You’re making a whole snarky speech out of it too. Disgusting. 

[grieveexistence-blog]

iconochanic:

you are, in every sense of the word, afraid.

    this is a dream that isn’t a dream, nor a nightmare, it’s something straight out of your mind and you’ve seen it dragged out before. you know these spectres, tall and towering in the distance; they hold hands and look at a house in ruins with long, long faces. the one concern has taken their hearts and the yellows of the flower field away. you screw away with your wrench, and the sunflower takes long to bloom, but you do it with desperation in your work and the shadow with a one-handed sword shrieks away.

     so everything changes: bubbles float, you’ve sunken down, and like one of the few friends you’ve known, this mind thinks you’ve reached rock bottom. but it’s the same thing as before. the lips around you want to speak, echoing their ancestral rites and their procreation and marriage; you spin electricity into sunflowers and that priestly shadow cannot harm you.

     and then there comes the enemy - the “enemy” you never considered as one, the moon with him as fragmented as ever, a skeleton of the one concern in the distance, and you rush so fast to wind up the gears that he can’t do a thing. ( but you don’t know if you can breathe. )

     you hesitate when the scene changes. who appears is too familiar a face, crackling with ivory and not shade like the rest. you can’t really tell why she’s here in full form, and not a husk or anything like such.

     agent black should not be a figure in your own dreams, or your mind. not here. not a single finger moves. not a single weapon even dares to fire – for you, anyways. after all, all you can feel is the fear wrapping around your hand.

@grieveexistence

Darkness is nice.

Your dreams, in all honesty, tend to suck. Death all around you, betrayal, the world crumbling around you... every painful memory tends to resurface in a way that you can’t fight against. All you can do is watch as your mistakes, play out right in front of you, again and again.

It’s the nights without dreams, where darkness engulfs your very being until your body decides it’s had enough and brings back the usual pain and suffering of your life, those are the nights you enjoy.

That’s another thing you like about the darkness: no pain.

But usually, it’s just darkness. You aren’t “conscious,” not aware of what happens around you until you wake up.

Here, you know you’re surrounded by darkness.

You wander aimlessly, as it’s all one can do in the darkness. Soon, things change. The darkness still exists, but the ground grows wet with white liquid... Ivory. It drips from above, source farther than the eye can see. This is new. You continue walking.

A figure appears in the distance, and you stop. You’ve seen this figure in your nightmares. You see her destroy your entire livelihood over and over again, every night. Sometimes you see her brother kill the only person you ever let close before returning to her, smiles on their faces. You see her expression, looking down on you in pity as trees grow out of your back, your body shutting down as you try time and time again to crush that fucking sunflower in the desert—

—and sometimes, when your mind is kind to you, you see the light leave her eyes as you slowly crush her, the sound of bones crushing and her final choked breath a beautiful orchestra to her ears.

Oh, before you know it, you have her in your arms again, holding her up by the collar. “No struggle. I guess this is a good dream, for once.” How to kill her this time around, you wonder? Let’s see what the dream gives you to play with.

[grieveexistence-blog]

...You suddenly have a very bad feeling deep in your stomach...

[grieveexistence-blog]

“Poor, naive children. Love is completely useless. It just gets in the way of your goals.”

[grieveexistence-blog]

portalante:

Rogue’s just heading back to the station from a shift on traffic-direction duty when some kid barrels out of an alley, very nearly running into her. “Wha-?” she tries to ask, but he won’t let her get a word in edgeways - he’s too busy babbling in a panic about some pale woman in a brown coat who threatened him with his own knife. Rogue’s not sure what he was doing with a knife to begin with, but whatever. This sounds like attempted assault with a deadly weapon, or at least criminal menacing, so she has to deal with it, if the woman’s still around.

She peeks into the alley and sees her, just as the kid described: about Rogue’s height, brown peacoat, tan scarf, gloves, and dress pants, unkempt black hair framing a pale, vein-streaked face. Rogue glares at her, clearing her throat loudly and putting a hand on her hip, tellingly close to her BB gun.

The lady puts her hands up, as if to surrender, but then goes on some spiel about “I can explain, it’s a misunderstanding, etc., etc.” that honestly sounds sarcastic. Rogue’s not buying it.

“Law-abiding citizen or not, I have a good reason to believe you were threatening a child with a bladed weapon, which does carry criminal charges. I’m afraid you’re under arrest, ma’am.”

Child? That punk counts as a child? Such a joke. He’s definitely old enough to know what he’s doing. And that what he’s doing is idiotic and will inevitably get him in these kinds of situations.

This is getting out of hand. Looks like the policewoman is a bit up in on her high horse.

“Look, you’ve got the wrong idea. That young man was threatening me. He was trying to steal my wallet. I happened to be experienced with these kinds of situations from my work, and was able to turn the tides.”

Having to actually be serious is a pain. “Honestly, are you really going to believe a random punk who tried to rob me? I’m sure it’s not the first time he’s done that, either.”

[grieveexistence-blog]

isilugay:

“Mina! I’m over here! We shouldn’t split up!”

And now Mina’s back in gray and red and purple hallways, the odd window showing snow whirling outside - this is the first Concern base! And Robin’s shouting at her from somewhere around that corner!

“Coming!!” Mina yells back, but when she hefts her shotgun - nice, that’s back - and runs for the sound, there’s no one there, not even soldiers. Just another corridor. “Robin? Where’d you go?” she calls, still running. She’s probably just ahead, just up this way -

“Over here! C’mon!”

Robin isn’t usually this talkative. Actually, she’s usually almost mute, talking in one- or two-word sentences or sign language, but whatever, apparently she’ll speak if it means getting the party back together. This time, the direction of the shout is harder to place. There’s a bit of a strange echo in these empty halls.

Mina keeps running, but there’s still no Robin, or anyone else either, and every time Robin calls out it seems farther away, and it’s tougher to tell where she is, and at the beginning the rooms looked familiar but now they don’t and there’s nothing to do but just keep on running and hope-

…and she’s definitely lost now. Fuck.

Mina barrels around a corner with no idea in hell where she’s going, and nearly runs smack dab into a sprinting Contra. Even if they hadn’t been wearing the uniform (their helmet’s not on quite right, looks like they jammed it on in a hurry, she can see a little bit of short yellow-blond hair, same color as Robin’s), all Contra seem to run the same weird way. “Hey, who-” Mina asks, but they just dash out of sight.

The room they came from looks sciencey. A couple of those crafting tables Robin uses to upgrade her stuff, but it’s mostly desks with all sorts of chemicals in vials and beakers strewn all over them. And in the center of the room is a puddle of dusty purple sludge, and…

“Oh, gods fucking dammit! Not you again!!”

@grieveexistence

You don’t often dream.

But when you do, it’s always a nightmare.

You have a list of many reoccurring ones. Going through the Transcendence is an example of one. You sometimes had flashes of your life before, a life you may as well have never known, seeing as you can’t remember much of anything from before. It’s happy, right before your vision goes white, your breathing cut off by a thick liquid, your entire body burning, and nothing to do to stop it until you wake up.

But that wasn’t the worst one. No, there’s only one that tops it.

The One Concern Headquarters. An agent, standing tall, a head taller than you. They lean forward, flashing you a grin. They say something, probably something dumb, you can’t hear it, but somehow it makes you.. feel things. You haven’t felt things in decades, but around them, around Agent Grey, you finally feel huma—

They fall to the ground, purple smoke coming out of every inch of their body. You can’t hear their screams, but just looking at their expression hurts you more than any sort of headache you put up with. 

And after what seems like ages of agony, they were gone. Just a puddle of purple sludge.

You fall to the ground, hands shaking. You can feel what was once Grey all over you. It makes you feel... empty.

Suddenly, a voice calls out to you. Of course, as if this dream could get any worse.

And the worse part of it all as that you don’t have the energy to murder a pirate, even if it’s just a dream hallucination.

You reach for the closest thing you can grab, that being a chair. You throw it as hard as you can towards the wall next to you. You hear it shatter, like glass. Dreams, weird things.

“...Shut up.” Your voice is calm, devoid of any feeling. “Learn some manners and let the adult grieve.”

[rp-meme-glaceon]

Ask my muse questions you think will make them angry or upset.

Pull no punches! Make them try to fight you, or try to push them to tears!

[grieveexistence-blog]

alchemicalvariable:

Drat, had he laid it on too thick? Distress briefly flashed across his face, and he stumbled a step as he walked. He wasn’t nearly as good at this negotiating stuff as his father had been (was, present tense he reminded himself), and he was significantly worse at hiding how he felt. No poker face, so to speak.

He didn’t want to beg, but the potential here…he couldn’t let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers.

“Whoah, that’s–that’s going a little far, isn’t it?” Varian gave a nervous chuckle, trying to gather his words. “I mean–uh–who’s to say that whoever else you find will treat your power source with the…the proper respect? No, no, I am definitely the guy you want for this.”

He hated the turn this had taken, but he couldn’t think of a way out. Maybe this was why his father had told him children didn’t belong in court–clearly he had some learning to do.

But…he could still work with this, right? After all, once he got access to this fuel source, he had the power to terminate this whenever, right?

“Fine, I’ll do it. Where can I find this ‘Ivory’?”

And... there we go, that’s better.

Of course, you didn’t lie. There probably were a lot of other people you could find, Varian just happened to be the first on the list. But he was on top of that list for a reason. Not that he needed to know that.

“You’re right, you are the guy for the job. I don’t make mistakes.”

You pull a small piece of paper from your pocket.

“For now, I’ll be giving you your Ivory directly. It exists underground, but I need to get my team mining for it. That means you’ll only get to play with a small amount at a time for the foreseeable future, as it’s from my... personal reserves.” You get the (most likely correct) feeling that telling the kid that he’ll be experimenting with what is essentially your blood for a while would freak him out. “Maybe a flask or two, until the mining process is complete. And on that note...” 

You hand him the paper. “I’ll need a commission. Explosives, to be exact. Can’t mine without digging through some rock, and it’s some thick rock. The specifics are there. Should be easy to do, no matter the size of your lab.”

On the paper was a list of explosives categorized in batches, some weak and some strong, but only ranging strong enough to break through basic concrete. This is a test. The explosives were to be used for... other means as well as mining. If they were strong enough for that, then the kid could be an integral part of your mission. If not, cutting his Ivory supply as early as possible would save you time in the long run.

“I’ll pick up the first batch in, let’s say a week, and hand you the Ivory then. Once mining is underway and we get some cash flowing in, I can see about offering you other incentives for your work. Maybe a fully stocked lab, for one?”

[grieveexistence-blog]

alchemicalvariable:

The furry thing in question was a pretty good judge of character, all things considered, and immediately seemed to decide it did not want to be friends, sniffing and turning its head away in an unsettlingly humanlike show of disdain. The boy didn’t seem to notice.

Varian followed after, eyebrows raised in interest but trying to keep his expression carefully blank and ready to bolt if needed. Okay, he had the upper hand here, right? At the very least he could act like it–it was a surprisingly easy role to slip back into, the mad scientist holding all the cards.

It was a lot easier now that he wasn’t also terrified.

“A fuel source, huh?” He’d been trying to research a more efficient means of producing power for a newer model of automaton that was still in the planning stages. And with the properties she mentioned, his mind was already racing with possibilities. He couldn’t look too excited, though. “It sounds like this Ivory stuff has some unusual properties. I might be interested in studying it–but why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?”

You seem to be breaking through, just a bit. Unfortunately, you’ve given him more leeway than you expected. Come on, “might”? You’re offering a power source that most people dream of, and this kid is only slightly interested?

Both he and the rodent have an inflated ego, it seems. Well, it’s not a huge loss if he doesn’t want to join in, but you at least owe it to him to finish your speech. “I can’t tell you specifics, since I’m not some nerd. I do leg work, not experiments.”

“And that’s what I need from you. You can play with all the Ivory you want, but I want reports on what you make, as well as creating some special commissions for me.”

But if he keeps acting like he’s got the upper hand, there’s no way this partnership will work. Time to gain the upper hand. 

You shrug. “But, I can tell that you don’t seem that interested in my offer. That’s fine. I’m here trying to help the younger generation, but I can’t help it if you don’t want to. This is a big city, I’m sure I can find some other scientists who would throw themselves at me to get even a pinch of Ivory...”

[im-a-crying-mess]

these quotes are too beautiful to not be drawn @incorrecticonoclastsquotes

[grieveexistence-blog]

alchemicalvariable:

When Varian heard his name being called by an unfamiliar voice, a thousand thoughts jumped into his head at once, causing him to freeze right there on the sidewalk. How did a stranger here know who he was? Had Rapunzel already started spreading word about what had happened in Corona, he hadn’t seen her since their first confrontation in the city but it was possible, was his chance here already ruined, was he going to have to go into hiding again–

Oh. It seemed not. Varian slowly turned towards the woman, his stance still stiff and defensive, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest. It was hard to look intimidating when you had a pudgy, relentlessly adorable raccoon using your shoulder as a perch and staring at your target of interest quite curiously, but Varian tried his best.

At least the two of them were nearly the same height.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied with a nod. A proposition, huh? He was curious “Well? Tell me about it. I’m listening.”

What a bundle of nerves, this kid. At least he has the decency to actually hear you out. You glare at him back, through that’s your usual expression. Your eyes wander to the strange furry rodent on his shoulder, though. Whatever it is, you don’t like the way it looks at you. It’s like it wants to be your friend. Ew.

But the furry thing isn’t important at the moment. Right now, you have a deal to seal.

“Don’t look so stiff, kid. You can think of this as me funding your research, seeing as you are a science type.”

You gesture vaguely, as a way to get him to follow you. You’d rather not talk about such a sensitive topic in one place where anyone who wants to eavesdrop can easily hear. Information in this city is about as secure as a wild animal.

You start talking. “Let’s say that there’s this fuel source. Something that held immense power. When properly controlled and refined, it could power a grid for years. Mixed with other things, you could probably achieve anything you can imagine. And, let’s say you dipped a person in it. They’d basically become immortal.” If they survive.

“It’s called Ivory. Not the color, it’s a proper noun. Capital I and all that. Does that interest you?”

[grieveexistence-blog]

heroicalias:

It had finally happened. She’d drank too much and when she tried to leave, she only managed to stumble a few uncertain steps before the world turned upside down.

Though it wasn’t like she was bothered. The ground felt awfully comfortable as she watched the ceiling spin… and spin… and spin.

She flipped herself over, just in time, as vomit rose up and forced its way out her mouth. The bottles of alcohol she had drank was soon joined by her dinner as it splattered all over the hardwood floor. Yet she had barely a moment of respite before some drunk dick fell on her. She gripped him tightly by the collar and with a growl shoved him into a wall. Stumbling backwards a few step she found herself backing up into some stranger. 

“Sorry about your date.” And she pushed passed her towards the counter. Another round of drinking awaited her.

You watch the blob of a drunk move to an empty seat next to what was once yours and start drinking even more. You don’t ignore the shove she gave trying to get to said seat. You also don’t ignore the pathetic attempt at a witty remark.

Maybe it’s the atmosphere, or the headache, but you’re real irritable right now.

It’s probably the headache.

“A shame we weren’t meant for each other. He seems much more your type. Peas of a pod applies to pathetic day drunks too, you know.” 

You slide your half-empty pathetic excuse for a cocktail over to her. “There you go, on me. Enjoy being a disappointment.”

[grieveexistence-blog]

ofeternae:

          there the captain stands in a clearing, adorned in the elegant battlegown of the glorybringer. in truth she does not care about standing out, and prefers to do so either way—she was never one for keeping to herself. if there is a hand to be given, hers would be the first to aide. 

          although it is no ridill, her main weapon from home, she took to further her swordsmanship and prowess with the wooden sword given. her right hand grips the hilt with true resolve, even if it is a weak weapon. with a twisting and twirling body, she gracefully swings her blade with ease. it is during her practice an unknown passerby approaches. the sword is put away in order to greet with peace. 

          ❝ Who’s there? Sorry—did I disturb you? ❞

@grieveexistence

This is new. You’ve seen a lot of weirdos in the city, but one in a dress? And a sword? Acting like some sort of warrior?

Well, this is dumb. Ignoring the implication of a bride playing swordfighter, let alone actually being one, what did she gain from doing it out in the open like that?

“Me. I don’t really give a shit what you do to embarrass yourself, honestly. If you want to play the warrior for everyone, though, maybe don’t do it in a bride’s outfit. Just a suggestion.”

[im-a-crying-mess]

someone help her @incorrecticonoclastsquotes