Please don&#x27;t kill me...

-> It's dark out. All seems quiet except for the gentle tapping of shoes against the ground. An iron-y, almost sweet aroma fills the air...

- @immortal-heartache

The Conductor opened the door and walked out onto the patio; he could sense it, another presence in his domain — but the reason for his fascination was with the nature of its presence... It had the heartbeat of the living yet its long intervals of death's silence told the magician everything he needed to infer through energy alone. The second curiosity was the scent this being emitted, once it hit Artful's nostrils and his body processed the cold outside, it stung a little to breathe in due to the cold.

The Conductor snapped his fingers, a stagehand answered to his call — it began to glow bright, rays piercing through the dark as it acted as a make-shift lantern. The hand guided its master forward to trail the scent and meet the strange "visitor" in his domain at a nightly hour.

At a certain distance, The Conductor stopped;

"Speak. You're a stranger in a land not your own," his voice reverberated through the chill air unhindered and unchallenged by nature's law.

He waits for an answer.

-> The stranger stopped at the approaching lightly, their hand instinctively grabbing at the sword stuck within their chest and ripping it out, pointing it towards the other. -> MeQuot stared, dulled eyes set with a face that LOOKED scared, that LOOKED nervous, like a prey animal trying to defend itself from an approaching predator. A bunny being cornered by a wolf. ". . ." "I wasn't aware." -> Soft, low, a slight shake to the voice. Despite the presence, the person's tone, it was obvious they're expecting some sort of fight, even waiting for it maybe. A fear response possibly?

The glowing stagehand moved further front to reveal the stranger's visage to its master.

The Conductor, in response, eased his body at the sight of the pitiful looking thing.

With a huff, he spoke gentler than before; "My apologies then. I have caught you unaware and startled you. Please lay down your weapon... But, if I still have the decency in your eyes to ask, who may you be?"

-> The stranger stood there, eyes glued onto the conductor before they lowered their sword, turning the blade and just... Stabbing it right back into their chest as if there was some sort of slot the sword was meant to slip into. -> No flinch, no noise of pain, nothing. "MeQuot." -> That expression changed briefly, a small smile forming before it faded back into that soft, fearful little look.

In the peculiar being's place, Artful winced at the act of the stranger 'sheathing' their blade back into their body as if it were nothing — though his composure was quickly regained right after.

"Very well then, Mequot, I am.. Artful. A resident of these woods." He gave a small smile in return.

"As much as I would like to know more of you, this moonless winter night is hardly an appropriate place for conversation; May we continue this at my place of residence? ..That is if you trust me enough... I understand if you decline."

-> The other stood there for a moment, considering the other's offer. This "Artful" hadn't really been a threat to them despite their instincts kicking in. Maybe, maybe he could trust this person. "I wouldn't mind..." -> His ears bounced slightly. Was it out of excitement? Curiosity? It was hard to tell, but the other seemed willing to come along despite the two only just have met. "I hope I can trust you..."

The Conductor let out a huff that turned into cold mist; "You could always strike my back if your senses tell you so," a jest he expressed as he turned back. "Well then, let's not waste more time out here. Follow me."

The luminous stagehand that accompanied its master floated cautiously closer to Mequot, dimming its intensity a few notches but never diminishing its reach. It hoped to guide the new visitor back safely.

...

The two made it back to the manor's reach without issue. Though the man of the house seemed to live in his lonesome, it's hard to believe such a fact when the windows gave way to the warm lights that illuminated almost every room in the house — a stark contrast to the drab colors of the exterior and the dead roots that climb it.

A different stagehand was at the doors to the manor; It opened the way for its master and his guest. When Artful stepped into gentle gold light, all the snow on his clothing simply... vanished. He looked back at Mequot, "come on in," and continued his way inside with a turn right. The stagehand that accompanied their guest followed suit of its master, turning off its light in the process.

The stagehand that held the door open simply waited for their guest to come in.

-> The guest followed silently, eyes lingering on the glowing stagehand before looking forward once more. This isn't the weirdest thing he's encountered, no, far from it, but usually she's not treated with this much kindness... -> She was in pure awe of the manor. The dark, dreariness giving way to a certain warmth that he's never experienced before. He stepped inside, leaning down to take off his shoes and set them aside. He'd wait to dirty up such a place. "Thank you..." -> Soft, sweet, MeQuot's voice was barely above a whisper at this rate. He was too busy glancing around, taking in the beauty of a place that was owned by one man and one man only.

The manor's usually washed out colors were morphed by the yellowish light that hailed from wall lamps that line the corridor in symmetric intervals. Most notably in the end of the corridor was a straight staircase... Perhaps The Conductor would let a gander there if one asked politely.

With other observations to be made, the door nearest to the entrance was firmly locked, while two other open arch doors lead to bigger rooms — the arch door on Mequot's left easily identified to lead to the dining room, with how a chair was visible from where he stood.

The stagehand closed the door behind their guest as it enters in with her. It took notice of the guest's lack of footwear and made a noise of slight distress — though, in a snap of its fingers, Mequot suddenly had fuzzy slippers on. The stagehand made a small chime, seeming content.

-> MeQuot squeaked at the sudden feeling around her feet, looking down in confusion before shaking its head, deciding not to question it. Was she not supposed to take her shoes off? It didn't want to track dirt around... -> He gazed around, taking in the surroundings before looking at the conductor with softened eyes. He's... Never really felt welcomed somewhere before, it was a nice feeling. "Your home is lovely..." -> A soft yet genuine comment, the sword wielder clasping their hands together in front of their chest. Gods, how did he live with that sword in their chest?

"Thank you. I was worried in having lost my touch when it comes to aesthetics.l," The Conductor responded in kind as his other stagehands took off his coat.

He gestured to the archway on Mequot's right, "come. This is where the reception room is. Though... Apologies if this is rude to mention, but, will you be able to sit with that, er- blade stuck within you? It doesn't hurt, doesn't it?"

-> He blinked, staring at the conductor before humming softly. His hand came up to the sword stuck within his chest, gently curling his fingers around the handle. "I've gotten... Used. To this in my chest. It hasn't really stopped me..." -> He mumbled something afterwards, gently tugging the blade out from his chest and hooking it onto his belt. Oh. He didn't even flinch, what in the world. "It... Used to hurt. But it really doesn't anymore."

Though he had already witnessed the action prior, The Conductor had a small expression of surprise on his face at a clearer gander of it.

Only a light hum escaped his lips.

"Well then... make yourself at home," he gestured towards a small, black, antique-looking couch facing another.

As Mequot would familiarise themselves to the room, notable details of it would register; There was a vase of stark red roses on the table between the seats, a patterned grey rectangular rug cushioning the furniture set's legs, and — most notably — a black grand piano at the corner of the reception room, standing behind where The Conductor will assumedly sit for their impending conversation.

#mequot ic #orchestraful interaction #song of bleeding hearts / mequot and orchestraful #you're all good!!!#no need to apologize /gen!!!

-> He nodded and sat down on the couch, taking off his fancy little hat and placing it atop his lap. He glanced around, taking in everything those dark eyes could catch. -> The piano caught his attention immediately. His ears twitched, tail wagging a little. He's always been fond of piano music for some reason, it was soothing to him, a comfort amongst the chaos of endless slaughter and red stains. "Do you play the piano...?" -> He raised his voice only a little, curiosity laced within his words. He kind of guessed the other did, but some fancy places sometimes had things like that just for decoration.

-> It's dark out. All seems quiet except for the gentle tapping of shoes against the ground. An iron-y, almost sweet aroma fills the air...

- @immortal-heartache

The Conductor opened the door and walked out onto the patio; he could sense it, another presence in his domain — but the reason for his fascination was with the nature of its presence... It had the heartbeat of the living yet its long intervals of death's silence told the magician everything he needed to infer through energy alone. The second curiosity was the scent this being emitted, once it hit Artful's nostrils and his body processed the cold outside, it stung a little to breathe in due to the cold.

The Conductor snapped his fingers, a stagehand answered to his call — it began to glow bright, rays piercing through the dark as it acted as a make-shift lantern. The hand guided its master forward to trail the scent and meet the strange "visitor" in his domain at a nightly hour.

At a certain distance, The Conductor stopped;

"Speak. You're a stranger in a land not your own," his voice reverberated through the chill air unhindered and unchallenged by nature's law.

He waits for an answer.

-> The stranger stopped at the approaching lightly, their hand instinctively grabbing at the sword stuck within their chest and ripping it out, pointing it towards the other. -> MeQuot stared, dulled eyes set with a face that LOOKED scared, that LOOKED nervous, like a prey animal trying to defend itself from an approaching predator. A bunny being cornered by a wolf. ". . ." "I wasn't aware." -> Soft, low, a slight shake to the voice. Despite the presence, the person's tone, it was obvious they're expecting some sort of fight, even waiting for it maybe. A fear response possibly?

The glowing stagehand moved further front to reveal the stranger's visage to its master.

The Conductor, in response, eased his body at the sight of the pitiful looking thing.

With a huff, he spoke gentler than before; "My apologies then. I have caught you unaware and startled you. Please lay down your weapon... But, if I still have the decency in your eyes to ask, who may you be?"

-> The stranger stood there, eyes glued onto the conductor before they lowered their sword, turning the blade and just... Stabbing it right back into their chest as if there was some sort of slot the sword was meant to slip into. -> No flinch, no noise of pain, nothing. "MeQuot." -> That expression changed briefly, a small smile forming before it faded back into that soft, fearful little look.

In the peculiar being's place, Artful winced at the act of the stranger 'sheathing' their blade back into their body as if it were nothing — though his composure was quickly regained right after.

"Very well then, Mequot, I am.. Artful. A resident of these woods." He gave a small smile in return.

"As much as I would like to know more of you, this moonless winter night is hardly an appropriate place for conversation; May we continue this at my place of residence? ..That is if you trust me enough... I understand if you decline."

-> The other stood there for a moment, considering the other's offer. This "Artful" hadn't really been a threat to them despite their instincts kicking in. Maybe, maybe he could trust this person. "I wouldn't mind..." -> His ears bounced slightly. Was it out of excitement? Curiosity? It was hard to tell, but the other seemed willing to come along despite the two only just have met. "I hope I can trust you..."

The Conductor let out a huff that turned into cold mist; "You could always strike my back if your senses tell you so," a jest he expressed as he turned back. "Well then, let's not waste more time out here. Follow me."

The luminous stagehand that accompanied its master floated cautiously closer to Mequot, dimming its intensity a few notches but never diminishing its reach. It hoped to guide the new visitor back safely.

...

The two made it back to the manor's reach without issue. Though the man of the house seemed to live in his lonesome, it's hard to believe such a fact when the windows gave way to the warm lights that illuminated almost every room in the house — a stark contrast to the drab colors of the exterior and the dead roots that climb it.

A different stagehand was at the doors to the manor; It opened the way for its master and his guest. When Artful stepped into gentle gold light, all the snow on his clothing simply... vanished. He looked back at Mequot, "come on in," and continued his way inside with a turn right. The stagehand that accompanied their guest followed suit of its master, turning off its light in the process.

The stagehand that held the door open simply waited for their guest to come in.

-> The guest followed silently, eyes lingering on the glowing stagehand before looking forward once more. This isn't the weirdest thing he's encountered, no, far from it, but usually she's not treated with this much kindness... -> She was in pure awe of the manor. The dark, dreariness giving way to a certain warmth that he's never experienced before. He stepped inside, leaning down to take off his shoes and set them aside. He'd wait to dirty up such a place. "Thank you..." -> Soft, sweet, MeQuot's voice was barely above a whisper at this rate. He was too busy glancing around, taking in the beauty of a place that was owned by one man and one man only.

The manor's usually washed out colors were morphed by the yellowish light that hailed from wall lamps that line the corridor in symmetric intervals. Most notably in the end of the corridor was a straight staircase... Perhaps The Conductor would let a gander there if one asked politely.

With other observations to be made, the door nearest to the entrance was firmly locked, while two other open arch doors lead to bigger rooms — the arch door on Mequot's left easily identified to lead to the dining room, with how a chair was visible from where he stood.

The stagehand closed the door behind their guest as it enters in with her. It took notice of the guest's lack of footwear and made a noise of slight distress — though, in a snap of its fingers, Mequot suddenly had fuzzy slippers on. The stagehand made a small chime, seeming content.

-> MeQuot squeaked at the sudden feeling around her feet, looking down in confusion before shaking its head, deciding not to question it. Was she not supposed to take her shoes off? It didn't want to track dirt around... -> He gazed around, taking in the surroundings before looking at the conductor with softened eyes. He's... Never really felt welcomed somewhere before, it was a nice feeling. "Your home is lovely..." -> A soft yet genuine comment, the sword wielder clasping their hands together in front of their chest. Gods, how did he live with that sword in their chest?

"Thank you. I was worried in having lost my touch when it comes to aesthetics.l," The Conductor responded in kind as his other stagehands took off his coat.

He gestured to the archway on Mequot's right, "come. This is where the reception room is. Though... Apologies if this is rude to mention, but, will you be able to sit with that, er- blade stuck within you? It doesn't hurt, doesn't it?"

#mequot ic #orchestraful interaction #song of bleeding hearts / mequot and orchestraful

-> He blinked, staring at the conductor before humming softly. His hand came up to the sword stuck within his chest, gently curling his fingers around the handle. "I've gotten... Used. To this in my chest. It hasn't really stopped me..." -> He mumbled something afterwards, gently tugging the blade out from his chest and hooking it onto his belt. Oh. He didn't even flinch, what in the world. "It... Used to hurt. But it really doesn't anymore."

-> It's dark out. All seems quiet except for the gentle tapping of shoes against the ground. An iron-y, almost sweet aroma fills the air...

- @immortal-heartache

The Conductor opened the door and walked out onto the patio; he could sense it, another presence in his domain — but the reason for his fascination was with the nature of its presence... It had the heartbeat of the living yet its long intervals of death's silence told the magician everything he needed to infer through energy alone. The second curiosity was the scent this being emitted, once it hit Artful's nostrils and his body processed the cold outside, it stung a little to breathe in due to the cold.

The Conductor snapped his fingers, a stagehand answered to his call — it began to glow bright, rays piercing through the dark as it acted as a make-shift lantern. The hand guided its master forward to trail the scent and meet the strange "visitor" in his domain at a nightly hour.

At a certain distance, The Conductor stopped;

"Speak. You're a stranger in a land not your own," his voice reverberated through the chill air unhindered and unchallenged by nature's law.

He waits for an answer.

-> The stranger stopped at the approaching lightly, their hand instinctively grabbing at the sword stuck within their chest and ripping it out, pointing it towards the other. -> MeQuot stared, dulled eyes set with a face that LOOKED scared, that LOOKED nervous, like a prey animal trying to defend itself from an approaching predator. A bunny being cornered by a wolf. ". . ." "I wasn't aware." -> Soft, low, a slight shake to the voice. Despite the presence, the person's tone, it was obvious they're expecting some sort of fight, even waiting for it maybe. A fear response possibly?

The glowing stagehand moved further front to reveal the stranger's visage to its master.

The Conductor, in response, eased his body at the sight of the pitiful looking thing.

With a huff, he spoke gentler than before; "My apologies then. I have caught you unaware and startled you. Please lay down your weapon... But, if I still have the decency in your eyes to ask, who may you be?"

-> The stranger stood there, eyes glued onto the conductor before they lowered their sword, turning the blade and just... Stabbing it right back into their chest as if there was some sort of slot the sword was meant to slip into. -> No flinch, no noise of pain, nothing. "MeQuot." -> That expression changed briefly, a small smile forming before it faded back into that soft, fearful little look.

In the peculiar being's place, Artful winced at the act of the stranger 'sheathing' their blade back into their body as if it were nothing — though his composure was quickly regained right after.

"Very well then, Mequot, I am.. Artful. A resident of these woods." He gave a small smile in return.

"As much as I would like to know more of you, this moonless winter night is hardly an appropriate place for conversation; May we continue this at my place of residence? ..That is if you trust me enough... I understand if you decline."

-> The other stood there for a moment, considering the other's offer. This "Artful" hadn't really been a threat to them despite their instincts kicking in. Maybe, maybe he could trust this person. "I wouldn't mind..." -> His ears bounced slightly. Was it out of excitement? Curiosity? It was hard to tell, but the other seemed willing to come along despite the two only just have met. "I hope I can trust you..."

The Conductor let out a huff that turned into cold mist; "You could always strike my back if your senses tell you so," a jest he expressed as he turned back. "Well then, let's not waste more time out here. Follow me."

The luminous stagehand that accompanied its master floated cautiously closer to Mequot, dimming its intensity a few notches but never diminishing its reach. It hoped to guide the new visitor back safely.

...

The two made it back to the manor's reach without issue. Though the man of the house seemed to live in his lonesome, it's hard to believe such a fact when the windows gave way to the warm lights that illuminated almost every room in the house — a stark contrast to the drab colors of the exterior and the dead roots that climb it.

A different stagehand was at the doors to the manor; It opened the way for its master and his guest. When Artful stepped into gentle gold light, all the snow on his clothing simply... vanished. He looked back at Mequot, "come on in," and continued his way inside with a turn right. The stagehand that accompanied their guest followed suit of its master, turning off its light in the process.

The stagehand that held the door open simply waited for their guest to come in.

-> The guest followed silently, eyes lingering on the glowing stagehand before looking forward once more. This isn't the weirdest thing he's encountered, no, far from it, but usually she's not treated with this much kindness... -> She was in pure awe of the manor. The dark, dreariness giving way to a certain warmth that he's never experienced before. He stepped inside, leaning down to take off his shoes and set them aside. He'd wait to dirty up such a place. "Thank you..." -> Soft, sweet, MeQuot's voice was barely above a whisper at this rate. He was too busy glancing around, taking in the beauty of a place that was owned by one man and one man only.

The manor's usually washed out colors were morphed by the yellowish light that hailed from wall lamps that line the corridor in symmetric intervals. Most notably in the end of the corridor was a straight staircase... Perhaps The Conductor would let a gander there if one asked politely.

With other observations to be made, the door nearest to the entrance was firmly locked, while two other open arch doors lead to bigger rooms — the arch door on Mequot's left easily identified to lead to the dining room, with how a chair was visible from where he stood.

The stagehand closed the door behind their guest as it enters in with her. It took notice of the guest's lack of footwear and made a noise of slight distress — though, in a snap of its fingers, Mequot suddenly had fuzzy slippers on. The stagehand made a small chime, seeming content.

#mequot ic #orchestraful interaction #song of bleeding hearts / mequot and orchestraful #my responding game isn't at its peak either #apologizes for the late response

-> MeQuot squeaked at the sudden feeling around her feet, looking down in confusion before shaking its head, deciding not to question it. Was she not supposed to take her shoes off? It didn't want to track dirt around... -> He gazed around, taking in the surroundings before looking at the conductor with softened eyes. He's... Never really felt welcomed somewhere before, it was a nice feeling. "Your home is lovely..." -> A soft yet genuine comment, the sword wielder clasping their hands together in front of their chest. Gods, how did he live with that sword in their chest?

Have you ever tried placing more then one sword in your chest?

"No... I wouldn't be able to feel it anyways..."

-> It's dark out. All seems quiet except for the gentle tapping of shoes against the ground. An iron-y, almost sweet aroma fills the air...

- @immortal-heartache

The Conductor opened the door and walked out onto the patio; he could sense it, another presence in his domain — but the reason for his fascination was with the nature of its presence... It had the heartbeat of the living yet its long intervals of death's silence told the magician everything he needed to infer through energy alone. The second curiosity was the scent this being emitted, once it hit Artful's nostrils and his body processed the cold outside, it stung a little to breathe in due to the cold.

The Conductor snapped his fingers, a stagehand answered to his call — it began to glow bright, rays piercing through the dark as it acted as a make-shift lantern. The hand guided its master forward to trail the scent and meet the strange "visitor" in his domain at a nightly hour.

At a certain distance, The Conductor stopped;

"Speak. You're a stranger in a land not your own," his voice reverberated through the chill air unhindered and unchallenged by nature's law.

He waits for an answer.

-> The stranger stopped at the approaching lightly, their hand instinctively grabbing at the sword stuck within their chest and ripping it out, pointing it towards the other. -> MeQuot stared, dulled eyes set with a face that LOOKED scared, that LOOKED nervous, like a prey animal trying to defend itself from an approaching predator. A bunny being cornered by a wolf. ". . ." "I wasn't aware." -> Soft, low, a slight shake to the voice. Despite the presence, the person's tone, it was obvious they're expecting some sort of fight, even waiting for it maybe. A fear response possibly?

The glowing stagehand moved further front to reveal the stranger's visage to its master.

The Conductor, in response, eased his body at the sight of the pitiful looking thing.

With a huff, he spoke gentler than before; "My apologies then. I have caught you unaware and startled you. Please lay down your weapon... But, if I still have the decency in your eyes to ask, who may you be?"

-> The stranger stood there, eyes glued onto the conductor before they lowered their sword, turning the blade and just... Stabbing it right back into their chest as if there was some sort of slot the sword was meant to slip into. -> No flinch, no noise of pain, nothing. "MeQuot." -> That expression changed briefly, a small smile forming before it faded back into that soft, fearful little look.

In the peculiar being's place, Artful winced at the act of the stranger 'sheathing' their blade back into their body as if it were nothing — though his composure was quickly regained right after.

"Very well then, Mequot, I am.. Artful. A resident of these woods." He gave a small smile in return.

"As much as I would like to know more of you, this moonless winter night is hardly an appropriate place for conversation; May we continue this at my place of residence? ..That is if you trust me enough... I understand if you decline."

-> The other stood there for a moment, considering the other's offer. This "Artful" hadn't really been a threat to them despite their instincts kicking in. Maybe, maybe he could trust this person. "I wouldn't mind..." -> His ears bounced slightly. Was it out of excitement? Curiosity? It was hard to tell, but the other seemed willing to come along despite the two only just have met. "I hope I can trust you..."

The Conductor let out a huff that turned into cold mist; "You could always strike my back if your senses tell you so," a jest he expressed as he turned back. "Well then, let's not waste more time out here. Follow me."

The luminous stagehand that accompanied its master floated cautiously closer to Mequot, dimming its intensity a few notches but never diminishing its reach. It hoped to guide the new visitor back safely.

...

The two made it back to the manor's reach without issue. Though the man of the house seemed to live in his lonesome, it's hard to believe such a fact when the windows gave way to the warm lights that illuminated almost every room in the house — a stark contrast to the drab colors of the exterior and the dead roots that climb it.

A different stagehand was at the doors to the manor; It opened the way for its master and his guest. When Artful stepped into gentle gold light, all the snow on his clothing simply... vanished. He looked back at Mequot, "come on in," and continued his way inside with a turn right. The stagehand that accompanied their guest followed suit of its master, turning off its light in the process.

The stagehand that held the door open simply waited for their guest to come in.

#mequot ic #orchestraful interaction #song of bleeding hearts / mequot and orchestraful

-> The guest followed silently, eyes lingering on the glowing stagehand before looking forward once more. This isn't the weirdest thing he's encountered, no, far from it, but usually she's not treated with this much kindness... -> She was in pure awe of the manor. The dark, dreariness giving way to a certain warmth that he's never experienced before. He stepped inside, leaning down to take off his shoes and set them aside. He'd wait to dirty up such a place. "Thank you..." -> Soft, sweet, MeQuot's voice was barely above a whisper at this rate. He was too busy glancing around, taking in the beauty of a place that was owned by one man and one man only.

hey man. i don't know if you noticed but uhhhhh there is a little something. on your chest.

"..." "I'm aware."

-> It's dark out. All seems quiet except for the gentle tapping of shoes against the ground. An iron-y, almost sweet aroma fills the air...

- @immortal-heartache

The Conductor opened the door and walked out onto the patio; he could sense it, another presence in his domain — but the reason for his fascination was with the nature of its presence... It had the heartbeat of the living yet its long intervals of death's silence told the magician everything he needed to infer through energy alone. The second curiosity was the scent this being emitted, once it hit Artful's nostrils and his body processed the cold outside, it stung a little to breathe in due to the cold.

The Conductor snapped his fingers, a stagehand answered to his call — it began to glow bright, rays piercing through the dark as it acted as a make-shift lantern. The hand guided its master forward to trail the scent and meet the strange "visitor" in his domain at a nightly hour.

At a certain distance, The Conductor stopped;

"Speak. You're a stranger in a land not your own," his voice reverberated through the chill air unhindered and unchallenged by nature's law.

He waits for an answer.

-> The stranger stopped at the approaching lightly, their hand instinctively grabbing at the sword stuck within their chest and ripping it out, pointing it towards the other. -> MeQuot stared, dulled eyes set with a face that LOOKED scared, that LOOKED nervous, like a prey animal trying to defend itself from an approaching predator. A bunny being cornered by a wolf. ". . ." "I wasn't aware." -> Soft, low, a slight shake to the voice. Despite the presence, the person's tone, it was obvious they're expecting some sort of fight, even waiting for it maybe. A fear response possibly?

The glowing stagehand moved further front to reveal the stranger's visage to its master.

The Conductor, in response, eased his body at the sight of the pitiful looking thing.

With a huff, he spoke gentler than before; "My apologies then. I have caught you unaware and startled you. Please lay down your weapon... But, if I still have the decency in your eyes to ask, who may you be?"

-> The stranger stood there, eyes glued onto the conductor before they lowered their sword, turning the blade and just... Stabbing it right back into their chest as if there was some sort of slot the sword was meant to slip into. -> No flinch, no noise of pain, nothing. "MeQuot." -> That expression changed briefly, a small smile forming before it faded back into that soft, fearful little look.

In the peculiar being's place, Artful winced at the act of the stranger 'sheathing' their blade back into their body as if it were nothing — though his composure was quickly regained right after.

"Very well then, Mequot, I am.. Artful. A resident of these woods." He gave a small smile in return.

"As much as I would like to know more of you, this moonless winter night is hardly an appropriate place for conversation; May we continue this at my place of residence? ..That is if you trust me enough... I understand if you decline."

#mequot ic #orchestraful interaction #song of bleeding hearts / mequot and orchestraful #oh you're perfectly fine!!!#i don't mind waiting in the slightest! people have their own lives and such!!!

-> The other stood there for a moment, considering the other's offer. This "Artful" hadn't really been a threat to them despite their instincts kicking in. Maybe, maybe he could trust this person. "I wouldn't mind..." -> His ears bounced slightly. Was it out of excitement? Curiosity? It was hard to tell, but the other seemed willing to come along despite the two only just have met. "I hope I can trust you..."

"...The civilians haven't been around lately."

#mequot ic #ask bait #rp bait

-> It's dark out. All seems quiet except for the gentle tapping of shoes against the ground. An iron-y, almost sweet aroma fills the air...

- @immortal-heartache

The Conductor opened the door and walked out onto the patio; he could sense it, another presence in his domain — but the reason for his fascination was with the nature of its presence... It had the heartbeat of the living yet its long intervals of death's silence told the magician everything he needed to infer through energy alone. The second curiosity was the scent this being emitted, once it hit Artful's nostrils and his body processed the cold outside, it stung a little to breathe in due to the cold.

The Conductor snapped his fingers, a stagehand answered to his call — it began to glow bright, rays piercing through the dark as it acted as a make-shift lantern. The hand guided its master forward to trail the scent and meet the strange "visitor" in his domain at a nightly hour.

At a certain distance, The Conductor stopped;

"Speak. You're a stranger in a land not your own," his voice reverberated through the chill air unhindered and unchallenged by nature's law.

He waits for an answer.

-> The stranger stopped at the approaching lightly, their hand instinctively grabbing at the sword stuck within their chest and ripping it out, pointing it towards the other. -> MeQuot stared, dulled eyes set with a face that LOOKED scared, that LOOKED nervous, like a prey animal trying to defend itself from an approaching predator. A bunny being cornered by a wolf. ". . ." "I wasn't aware." -> Soft, low, a slight shake to the voice. Despite the presence, the person's tone, it was obvious they're expecting some sort of fight, even waiting for it maybe. A fear response possibly?

The glowing stagehand moved further front to reveal the stranger's visage to its master.

The Conductor, in response, eased his body at the sight of the pitiful looking thing.

With a huff, he spoke gentler than before; "My apologies then. I have caught you unaware and startled you. Please lay down your weapon... But, if I still have the decency in your eyes to ask, who may you be?"

#mequot ic #orchestraful interaction #song of bleeding hearts / mequot and orchestraful

-> The stranger stood there, eyes glued onto the conductor before they lowered their sword, turning the blade and just... Stabbing it right back into their chest as if there was some sort of slot the sword was meant to slip into. -> No flinch, no noise of pain, nothing. "MeQuot." -> That expression changed briefly, a small smile forming before it faded back into that soft, fearful little look.

-> It's dark out. All seems quiet except for the gentle tapping of shoes against the ground. An iron-y, almost sweet aroma fills the air...

- @immortal-heartache

The Conductor opened the door and walked out onto the patio; he could sense it, another presence in his domain — but the reason for his fascination was with the nature of its presence... It had the heartbeat of the living yet its long intervals of death's silence told the magician everything he needed to infer through energy alone. The second curiosity was the scent this being emitted, once it hit Artful's nostrils and his body processed the cold outside, it stung a little to breathe in due to the cold.

The Conductor snapped his fingers, a stagehand answered to his call — it began to glow bright, rays piercing through the dark as it acted as a make-shift lantern. The hand guided its master forward to trail the scent and meet the strange "visitor" in his domain at a nightly hour.

At a certain distance, The Conductor stopped;

"Speak. You're a stranger in a land not your own," his voice reverberated through the chill air unhindered and unchallenged by nature's law.

He waits for an answer.

#mequot ic #orchestraful interaction #song of bleeding hearts / mequot and orchestraful

-> The stranger stopped at the approaching lightly, their hand instinctively grabbing at the sword stuck within their chest and ripping it out, pointing it towards the other. -> MeQuot stared, dulled eyes set with a face that LOOKED scared, that LOOKED nervous, like a prey animal trying to defend itself from an approaching predator. A bunny being cornered by a wolf. ". . ." "I wasn't aware." -> Soft, low, a slight shake to the voice. Despite the presence, the person's tone, it was obvious they're expecting some sort of fight, even waiting for it maybe. A fear response possibly?

runs all the way here

Hi hello what do you do on your freetime whenever Devesto is nowhere around?

Clumsily runs away

"I... Do whatever I please really." "I don't know why Devesto is involved at all...?"

#mequot ic #randifandi

I completely forgot to link my hcs post to my pinned post. I am. So sorry for my stupidity.

#ooc post

I wanna reach out to other DoD rp blogs,,,, But how,,,, Someone please rp with me :(

#ooc post

Oh, hello there kind sir!

You gots the time for a joke :0)?

"....I guess."

aawe! How cute of you!!!!

*Gently pinches cheeks so that Mequot won't get a lil' hurt.*

"A-Ah..." -> He gently swats your hand away. He doesn't much like being touched without permission!