bury these ghosts.

a multi-muse with original characters, by river.

[holyrots]

ENJOY THE SILENCE,

#HOLYROTS. a private multi-muse, featuring an interconnected universe of original characters. 21+ mutuals only, very low activity. replies are sporadic and often queued. thank you for your patience!

written by river. main blog is @inrovina. please note: i tend to prefer getting to know people i haven't interacted with before on my main blog first, as it's where i'm primarily logged in. i don't check the dash here much.

queue running once a day. highest muse for: wesley, harry and marco (+ superverse/high fantasy verse).

guidelines & muse directory. verses carrd. memes. wheel.

[id1eyouth]

Stillness settles over him at the question, but it isn't the same hollow quiet as before. This one feels sharper—coiled, waiting.

A slow breath follows, unnecessary but habitual, like some remnant of being alive he hasn't quite let go of. His gaze lifts again, locking onto Elias with something far steadier now.

"No. He's dead." A slight tilt of his head, something cold threading through the motion. "Just like me... He died the same day as me, actually... I don't know if it was the house or that family and I just got—caught up in it all. I'm trying to work out why."

[holyrots]

"And he's a ghost in the same way you are?" A pause. He's trying not to be blunt, softening the hard edges of his questions. There's an intensity behind his eyes, one that wants—needs—to unpick the strands of this mystery. He's no stranger to the dead, but James is... different.

"Other people can see you. That's not usually how it works with the ghosts I see." It's uncomfortable to admit this to someone who isn't Eden. I see ghosts isn't exactly something sane people are encouraged to say out loud. Even if the man he's talking to is dead.

"The house." Something scratches at the edge of his mind. There has to be something there. "What kind of house is it?"

[miidnighters]

Well. Isn't that interesting.

Demi knows when not to poke the bear, if only because the rest of their conversation is too entertaining and they don't want to blow it up.

They'll continue to watch this space, though, because that is no minor issue between a demon and a mortal, is it?

"Ah, see? It's good to have family, isn't it. Always someone willing to do a little smiting on your behalf."

A laugh - Felix is trying to get a rise out of them with the label of sweet, but much like himself, there's no shame when it comes to matters of romance. "I'll tell Tisi you said so. She always likes a compliment."

She'll probably be more exasperated that they're fraternising with other demons so freely than anything.

"Besides. I'm allowed to rib you about being a sap, because it's true. I never said that I wasn't, just that you better be loud about it or someone will come scoop that pretty girl out from under your nose."

Potatoes, potatoes.

"See, now that's what I call romance! I underestimated you, cousin. Nothing like a bit of priceless art to show a girl that you love her - even more when there's a threat of jail time. Which one? Do you know yet?"

[holyrots]

Demi's got a point there. Never hurts to have an extra pair of hands for smiting-related activities. Los Angeles put him off from associating with his fellow demons, but they're turning it around here. He shares a grin with them, pleased by their reaction—even if he failed to get the rise he wanted. A laugh's good enough for him.

"Trust me, I'm never going to shut up about it. She's a million miles out of my league and I know it. I'll send myself back to Hell if I do anything to lose her." Even the thought has him grimacing, fear tangling with jealousy at the idea of someone scooping Callisto out from under his nose. His nose wrinkles. "Thanks for that visual, by the way."

Onto better things, like how he's going to be loud about it with this big romantic gesture—which hopefully won't land him in jail again.

"No point in doing anything without the threat of jail time, I say. It just proves how much I love her, right?" Callisto might disagree. Even more reason for this to be a surprise. "Knew you'd understand, Dems." He really didn't.

Anyway, Felix grins wider at their question. "Oh, I know all right. That's the cherry on the top. I've got permission from the artist, and he just happens to be her best mate."

He gets out his phone, pulling up his photo library and opening a picture of a painting. "From the 1700s. The Met think it's by some random guy called John something, but it's not. Know who it's really by?" A pause for dramatic effect, please. "Our frozen friend."

[vitalphenomena]

"Hahaaha. yeah, totally."

Hanna doesn't know how to deal with this amount of praise. Harry's casual one-liner feels smothering in isolation. Hanna sways from side to side like she's being tossed around by forceful gale winds. The movement is a pleasant distraction.

Still swaying: "What?"

It takes her a few seconds. When Hanna finally makes the connection, she laughs again. It's hoarse and strange.

"Can't we just wrap him in a big ol' blanket, and it's fine?"

[holyrots]

That's some impressive swaying. Harry doesn't comment on it, just in case that one-liner somehow ups the gale winds. They're all for blowing Hanna away—with their outfit for tonight, maybe—but only in a metaphorical sense.

"Points for creative thinking, but no." Harry shoves the beers into the fridge, zero organisation involved. Everything else is neatly arranged. Whatever. Wesley can be pissed at them for fucking up his system later.

"Actually." They look over their shoulder at Hanna. "I'd pay to watch you try that. So, go ahead." A pause. "You good?"

[unlore]

Zahrosa sees it too - that flash, brief but vivid, a scene that takes her by surprise with its suddenness. Her expression is brief, genuine surprise mixed with some deep distaste at the subject; she doesn't want to think of such a thing. She wants the dream to obey her will entirely, but they are fickle, unreliable things even for one so experienced at wrangling them as her.

She takes in a breath, irritated, mouth pressing into a thin line as she exhales again. "Anyone so willing to give themselves over deserves to be taken advantage of. It is their own stupidity that brings them to it, and it will not serve them well."

The dream shifts and roils as though somewhere outside a great storm rages, tossing the ship of their shared mindscape upon the waves. It isn't right. And it seems to be getting not-righter.

"It is the truth. Whether you accept it or not, this is the way of the world." She spreads her hands wide, palms open, sardonic smile back on her lips. "It is not my job to convince you. You will have more than enough opportunity to discover it on your own, Eden. I find myself certain of that."

[holyrots]

Eden feels the shift as a lurch in her stomach, even though she should be beyond any corporeal link. Dreams are meant to sever the tie between their physical forms. What if it hasn't? The thought slips into her mind like some slow-acting poison, tainting everything.

It's just a dream, she tries to tell herself, but no dream has ever just been a dream for her.

Worse still is the way Zahrosa's words land, carved from such certainty that they strike a shiver down her spine. Eden shakes her head again. It's the only defense she has, a futile way of attempting to block those beliefs from taking root in her.

"I know the world is a cruel place, but that doesn't mean it can't be made better. Nobody deserves to be taken advantage of." Zahrosa's view of the world horrifies her in a way that seeps into her bones. There's a coldness creeping into the dream. An unshakeable dread.

"I feel sorry for you," she blurts out, and she can hear it—how childish she sounds—but she can't stop. "I really do. You must be so lonely."

[choicescreen]

with a sort of headmaster's finality,

"bring your brother. i miss him." now, purposefully coy, "i would ask if you'd like to join me for shopping, sorel insists upon something new to wear for the both of us, but judging by your pout, i think you'd rather i fell into a deep pit and you never saw me again."

[holyrots]

said pout morphs from a look of eager agreement—shopping!—to one of petulant chagrin. she has the nerve to look wounded by anthony's assesment, finding it awfully unfair. there's even a small gasp by the end. "no! i'd never wish for you to fall into a deep pit."

emil, on the other hand...

ramona practices her sweetest, saddest face. "i love you very much. you are my favourite old man."

[vitalphenomena]

UNFORTUNATELY, SASKIA'S FORAY INTO REVERSE PSYCHOLOGY ISN'T GOING TO BE EFFECTIVE IN MANIPULATING MARGOT.

"I wasn't telling you this to brag," Margot explains, wry because it's so obvious. "You know why I was telling you this. And if there were a catch, I'd tell you that, too." Margot smiles with a deceptive warmness. Saskia seems young and volatile. It's endearing.

"I only want to help. No strings attached."

[holyrots]

"Everything has strings attached. People don't just help."

Not in the world Saskia comes from, which is the world of this apartment building—one of wealth, privilege and mutually beneficial connections. The world she's being evicted from.

And chess players always think several moves ahead, right? As far as Saskia is concerned, Margot Hemingway isn't trustworthy at all.

"I don't want to be indebted to you."

[unheaven]

" @holyrots --" Emma is jovial, grinning as if greeting a very old friend. Perhaps she is. "I've told you a thoudsand times to never invite me to these things. You know I can't stand the bureaucracy of it all!"

She extends her hand - yes, she expects a kiss! - and curtseys for Kazimir in return. Emma reverts to the old ways when in the company of something so close to her own. The Dark Childes don't count, really. Not unless they've spent a good deal of time in the home realm.

"But here I am! Since you did make the effort ask, it would be rude not to show my face." In other words, her hand has been forced. She must appear to be well-liked, at very least. Especially by another influential demon in her city. "Show me around. I heard from a woman at the entrance that you have the most delicious cocktails floating around here somewhere..."

[holyrots]

"Emma." Kazimir wears a convincing mask. His lip does not curl back in displeasure at the hand offered to him. His heartless eyes do not reveal how he pictures breaking each slender bone inside it as he raises her hand to his mouth, leaving a searing kiss where she has requested it. He plays the role of a gentleman well when it's good for business.

They have known each other long enough for her to understand it's all performance. He'll extract pain from some poorer creature later.

"Wise choice. I have very little patience for rudeness." It's not a threat. He's not ignorant to the fact that she is different from the rest of the guests moving through the penthouse. He cannot hurt her like he can hurt the others. Instead, it is a reminder. Here, he is king. Emma Germanicus may not be his subject, but he still expects respect.

"Let us find you a drink, then. Ileana arranges for only the best." He offers her his arm. The penthouse, crowning one of the tallest skyscrapers in Los Angeles, complete with a panoramic view of the city, awaits.

[vitalphenomena]

IT'D BE SO EASY TO BLOW UP AT HIM. Sinking to his level might be the much-needed break from her own righteousness and concern that she's been privately, guiltily craving.

Yes, Remi, it is your fault! You're not willfully misunderstanding me—you want this to be a beneficial conversation, as always, and you make me want to be a better person! Yay!!!!!!

"That's not what I said. You know that's not what I said."

Oh, she's sinking.

"If I thought you were capable of accepting any responsibility for your life, let alone mine, I'd have been super clear about that."

[holyrots]

"And there it is."

Remi gives her a nasty little smile. There's an element of vindication, as if he's been waiting for Isla to snap the whole time. He's tired of her self-righteous, cool girl act—the one that makes him feel like a failure every time he talks to her. She's his little sister. Not the other way round.

He'll feel better about losing his shit if she loses hers too.

"Tell me how you really feel, why don't you? Go on, admit it. You do think you're better than me."

[jupiterfree]

"on what grounds?"

[holyrots]

"why is that even a question?"

"i'm giving you the chance to be the director who discovers me."

[id1eyouth]

Crystal meets crystal, and the smile that follows is picture-perfect—effortless, composed and warm. 

"Someone has to be," Alexandra says lightly, as if the matter is hardly worth remarking on. Fingers turn the stem of the glass in a slow circle, watching the bubbles climb. "My husband would say I worry too much." The flute finally finds its way to her lips, a small sip taken more for appearance than thirst. Across the room, her gaze drifts briefly over the crowd again, as though searching for a familiar shape among the bodies.

"But men do have a tendency to mistake enthusiasm for good judgement." The glass lowers again. Thoughts flicker to a small boy asleep somewhere far away from the noise and merriment of the evening.

"Balance is a tedious responsibility. But it does keep things from collapsing entirely. And I do hate a scene."

[holyrots]

Ileana supposes Alexandra's husband must say a great deal of things. Men have many opinions, and immortal men have even more. Eternity has a habit of inspiring a stronger sense of grandiosity.

"I am certain your husband is indebted to you." The compliment is sweetened somewhat by a smidge of sincerity. She does not envy Alexandra's position, but she can respect the performance it demands. In another life, those words would be coming from her lips. My husband. It has been over a millennium since she last spoke them.

Another sip of her drink silences the thought. The laced wine is rich, blood fresh—she compelled one of the server's to make a donation earlier. "There is sometimes entertainment in collapse, though, is there not? So long as it is not our own empires falling."

Her smile remains. "I'm afraid you would find some of the parties my associate hosts quite distasteful. There are often scenes."

[unpossession]

What could be more romantic to the death-chaser than walking through the viper's nest to be with her? Willow stumbles backward, held upright only by his own personal gravity, his weight countering her own as he clings to her, as she clings to him.

Sebastian Vespertine suffering anonymity for her sake, another small sacrifice for her altar. Her pride swells, her paranoia worsens -- are they being watched through a crack in the curtains? She pulls him deeper into her sanctuary until her back meets her bedroom door and laughs at her own alarm.

You're here. You're in my house.

Lips locked with his, she shivers at his touch. The spell of restraint broken, she allows him as close as he's been wanting to get, makes space for him flush against her, turns her face to gasp for air and go cheek to cheek.

"I--" She thinks to say something, but catching her eyes in his once again, all words fail her. Willow kisses him again, fumbles for the door handle behind her and pulls them through to her bedroom. It's dark in here, but they both see perfectly well. She doesn't reach for the lamp; Willow refuses to break contact with him.

Her mind bleeds into his. One combined desire. Affection -- perhaps madness. Nobody has ever willingly let her this close. He has access to her heart, her racing thoughts, her secrets. There for the taking, if he chooses to search her.

You're really here? Prove it. Wake me up from this dream.

[holyrots]

I am here. In her house. In Los Angeles. In California. The state he once swore, down on his knees, he would never return to.

None of it matters. Not now, when they have locked out the rest of the world and opened another door, one that activates every dead cell in his body, his mind alight with all the wants he has smothered since he told her, a year ago, I am a patient man.

It was a lie. Of course it was. And yet Willow made it truth. He caged his desire for her. He exercised a greater restraint than he has known in centuries, and allowed her to drive him willingly towards madness. Now there is more than merely his initial hunger; a fervour of feeling has grown within him. It burns as their bodies press together, his hands descending from her face, needing the proximity they have denied themselves for so long.

He kisses her with this torment in mind, the days and weeks and months they have to make up for. The awareness of where they are—Willow's bedroom—flares within him. Again, he kicks the door shut behind them, blocking out everything else, because all that exists is—

Willow, her pounding heart, pumping blood, pouring thoughts through the open doors of their minds. It is an intimacy Sebastian has never known: this melting of minds, erasing the lines between them, her thoughts becoming his, the bleeding of her heart awakening his.

Barely conscious of it, he has moved her towards the bed, her bed, and then they're falling together, down onto her sheets, and he is there above her. His lips are still against Willow's mouth before he frees her breath and moves his kisses along her jaw, towards her neck, where he lingers, devoted to her pulse point. Willow. Her name like silk, tumbling through their minds. This is no dream. Let me show you I am yours.

[id1eyouth]

[ sms: hazza ] BUT YOU'RE NOT ACTUALLY SAYING ANYTHING [ sms: hazza ] i don't need protecting or whatever the fuck you think i need [ sms: hazza ] i'm capable of looking after myself [ sms: hazza ] he's my best friend [ sms: hazza ] whatever [ sms: hazza ] get home safe [ sms: hazza ] don't text me again unless it's you telling me you're home safe

[holyrots]

"Fuck!"

Their Uber driver looks mildly alarmed. Harry proceeds to spend the entire journey complaining to him about Charles Hallows.

Back at their apartment, it takes them several attempts to unlock their door. One of the throuples are at it again. They put their headphones on, take a drunk selfie, half out of focus, and send it to Zachary.

[ sms: zachzachzach ] [🤪.jpg] [ sms: zachzachzach ] BACK IN HELL [ sms: zachzachzach ] BE GLAD THIS SINT A VIDEO LOLL [ sms: zachzachzach ] GET A NEW BEST FRIND [ sms: zachzachzach ] LOVE U

[id1eyouth]

[ sms: wes 🌱 ] why are you apologising [ sms: wes 🌱 ] it's ok [ sms: wes 🌱 ] i like [ sms: wes 🌱 ] i dunno [ sms: wes 🌱 ] it doesn't matter [ sms: wes 🌱 ] yes, i can be [ sms: wes 🌱 ] for you

[holyrots]

[ sms: Zachary 🤠 ] It matters to me [ sms: Zachary 🤠 ] I don't want you to think I don't want you here because I do [ sms: Zachary 🤠 ] Okay if I give your number to Victoria/Marco? She says they'll arrange the reservation

[id1eyouth]

@holyrots

[jupiterfree]

she thinks of florian waiting tables, balancing orders on a tray, washing dishes. it's ludicrous.

"between you and me, dude... I think you'd hate it."

[holyrots]

"what?" a nervous laugh. the concept of having a part-time job, one that doesn't involve any pirouetting, terrifies him.

"no, no. i would love it. absolutely. i'm sure i would earn a grand in tips every week, easily. your patrons would love me. and i'd love them."

[vitalphenomena]

ONCE SASKIA SAYS IT LIKE THAT, PETRA KNOWS SHE WAS FOOLISH TO ASK. Saskia, frankly, isn't that complicated, and Petra temporarily gave her more credit than she was due.

Or maybe she's being uncharitable because her feelings are very, very hurt.

"I don't need you looking out for me like that," she mutters, bitter. "What do you want me to do? You think something's wrong with me, don't you?"

[holyrots]

"God, you're such a victim." At least Petra is giving Saskia several opportunities to perfect her eye roll. She grabs two champagne glasses from a passing tray, not bothering to thank the waiter, and graciously hands one over to Petra. Isn't she benevolent, really?

"Your problem is the opposite. Nothing's wrong with you. You don't fight your own battles. You're used to everything going your way." She doesn't know about her new patron unceremoniously ditching Petra.

"Maybe you should actually try doing something wrong, for once."