here we go again @ofsens - Tumblr Blog

KAWENNÁHERE DEVERY JACOBS + DEMIGIRL + SHE/HER/THEY ⸻ THE SLIGHTLY CROOKED NOSE AFTER ITS BEEN BROKEN TOO MANY TIMES, A FALL EVENING WITH THE SMELL OF WOODSMOKE AND SCRATCHY BLANKETS, THE TASTE OF FRESH BLOOD ON YOUR TONGUE AND YOU'RE NOT SURE WHETHER IT'S YOURS OR SOMEONE ELSE'S — the previous are indications of an individual wearing a BATTERED GAS mask roaming in the city. though sightings of TERÉS "SEN" HILL , the TWENTY-SIX year old looking HYBRID, have been scarcely reported in the underground. rumors of their ENERGETIC + DETERMINED demeanor aren’t to be undermined, since admonitions would warn against their OBSESSIVE + AGGRESSIVE nature. as our records indicate, they are a part of the UNAFFILIATED faction within the ghoul societies. there is no doubt their reputation precedes them as THE HOYDEN

@nadiris-ex

#about sen #nadirishq ; intro

gracefulhatred:

Annabelle cannot wrap her mind around what she is becoming. What she has already become? Has she already left that transitional phase or not? She doesn’t want to think about it, and her stomach hurts too much for her to tell the difference between the two…if a difference even exists. She doesn’t know where she’s doing. Like the day in the graveyard, she allows her feet to guide her…somewhere. And they seem to listen to her stomach rather than her more rational brain. ( Unless it’s her heart that’s stopping her from giving in. Brain…heart…they’re both mushed together and too inseparable for Annabelle to figure out which ).

She’s hungry, and the smell wafting out of a dimly lit alley. One that, as hard as she tries, Annabelle simply can’t ignore. She’s certain the person in front of her must think she looks like a madwoman. And, truthfully, Annabelle feels like a mad woman. Pulling at her hear and scratching at her her own skin just might be more preferable to this. Her tongue rakes against her dry mouth as she speaks, but she still manages to get a few words out –

“I’m not – i wasn’t stalking you,” She insists with a shake of her head as if that’s proof enough. “I thought….no, I know I smelled something…” She swallows hard. “Please tell me you were eating cheeseburgers and not…”

Not something else. Not someone else. Neither of which Annabelle can bring herself to say.

Sen’s own transition had been more swift, carried along by the wish to torture the demigirl with what they’d become rather than the pain of transition and the application of a ghoul’s own flesh into their gullet as their first taste of what was to become. They’d shifted through the feverish, confused hunger stage far more quickly than Annabelle would, and likely, with a bit more gusto.

For someone who used to abhor the idea, they now ate the flesh of others like it was a treat, mostly because they’d found a way to relish the idea; it was still hunting, killing, and removing ghouls from the world but now it also sated a literal hunger instead of just a metaphysical one.

They stared at Annabelle and their nostrils flared a moment. There was a burbling of anger deep within to see someone becoming a Hybrid — a sort of hypocrisy they might never understand even if it were explained for a thousand years — and they were disgusted in their own right.

“It was ghoul flesh and... ugh. How far along are you even?” Sen’s tone was disapproving, but after a moment they realized an opportunity, “Have you even eaten flesh yet...? You know it doesn’t have to be human...”

Recruiting to one’s own army and thought process might be better than alienating and pushing the girl right into the arms of someone (or someones) who would teach her to hunt humans as cattle rather than ghouls. If one could cull the population of humans who’s to say that hybrids and their own kind couldn’t cull the ghouls in the same way. Which was the real menace at this point, after all.

“... there might be some left but I’d feel much better if we found you something a bit less dated... it tastes better fresh.” The words in their mouth felt like molten bile and they hated themselves a little, but they swallowed it down. One day they’d die and might not be welcomed into the open arms of their loving family on the other side, but at least they’d know they’d still avenged their family... even if it damned them.

#paras #paras: featuring annabelle #both my girls on either side tugging her like DO THIS #poor annabelle

ghouliehoneys:

— There wasn’t much time before she had her ass handed to her. “Shit, my eyes must be bugging out,” she muttered. One set of fingers tightened around a steel pipe in a death-grip while the other gingerly grazed her temples. The thermal image of her pursuer was distorted: there seemed to be a large mass protruding from their body. There was no denying the tail-like – or, was it more tentacle like? – structures emitting enough heat for her cybernetically enhanced eyes to pick up a heat signature. If not a glitch, then what was that thing?

Heather braced herself and backed up. She lost her footing over a trashcan lid, its aluminum scratching against asphalt with an ugly scrape. “I’m the one being stalked,” she snapped. Slick with sweat, a few, scraggly strands of brown hair stuck to her forehead. “Or maybe murdered,” she said. “He’s got some kind of weapon – see, cut me on my cheek.” She quelled a shaking exhale, her gaze hardening as she prepared for the worst. “If I croak now, the only one who’s going to care is Megan,” she thought. “Shit, that would destroy her.”

Megan was her girlfriend. Megan was also a ghoul. Heather hadn’t yet learned of their existence, her girlfriend having fiercely protected her from the shadows and threatened to cannibalize anyone who so much as sniffed in their direction. Unfortunately, there were ghouls that saw that as a challenge. It made the victory sweeter, didn’t it? When you could steal something precious right out from under another ghoul’s nose?

Heather shook the pipe with renewed vindication. “I’m the only one with a weapon,” she told the stranger. “You better get behind me!”

They hadn’t really expected the sudden and emotional response from their would-be stalker, and realized only then that they weren’t the target — hell, there was no target at all except both of them now caught in the crosshairs of whoever had tracked the girl along to where they stood.

The weapon was novel, and though Sen wasn’t armed they were likely far more capable of ripping someone apart than it would seem. Sen might be a lot of things — murderer, violent, and prickly to name a few — they weren’t a liar. They weren’t hiding the fact that they could stand in between Heather and their attacker and probably fair somewhat better than her, but they did as they were told at first and stood behind the woman with the weapon.

Perhaps it was curiosity to see exactly what was coming at them, because everything in this city was a bit different than it seemed at first. It could seem like something wholly terrifying and end up being mundane, but when push came to shove Sen would reveal their own abilities and protect Heather — unknowing of her girlfriend or what affiliations she might have — because she was, or at least seemed, human, if nothing else.

“You sure a weapon’s gonna do the trick?” was the only words offered by Sen, pushing their hood back to reveal their face only after they’d taken a more offensive than defensive stance behind the girl with the steel pipe.

#paras #paras: featuring heather #gsdgs sorry this took so long heather is lovely

scoutmunroe:

Scout rarely went looking for trouble.

She didn’t seek it out, but all of her life, it was as though she was a magnet for it. Disharmony seemed to cling to her, like smoke to a cotton jacket ( not that she had ever owned a cotton jacket. Things like cotton jackets were reserved for a completely different sort of person to Scout Munroe ).

It would have been easy to blame the more ghoulish side of herself on her penchant for running into problems, but it had been a habit of hers for as long as she could remember. If there was something shady going down, she would find herself directly in the centre of it.

With the NCS, though, for the first time in her life, trouble was allowed. Encouraged, even. And that was why, more than anywhere else, it had become something like home.

It was a night like most. Scout was practically nocturnal by now, but she had never been a morning person to begin with. She came alive at night, and that’s what made her current calling such a good fit for her.

The corners of her mouth quirked as the other called out. She hadn’t been stalking, per say - she wanted her presence known. Sometimes, that was all that was needed.

“I don’t want any trouble,” she began, her voice ringing with the irony. “Out for a late night stroll?”

Sen had often wondered what kind of person did look for trouble. What had to be wrong in your mind to seek out problems and danger; to look for a reason to be in situations that could very easily lead to you ending belly up or face down. They’d often thought about it as a child and even as a young adult and the answer was clear: Sen.

Maybe it wasn’t really something they did consciously, or even in any way that truly mattered, but Sen was the kind of being that seemed mired in conflict no matter what they did, and eventually they had to admit it was by their own hand. No matter how often they tried to tell themselves that it wasn’t them it was just the lot that life gave them, the truth was never more clear in the moments when their face was covered in blood and they were seeking on Niks for a patch job.

As Scout spoke, though, Sen found a way to judge quietly — it was a specialty of theirs, to be fair — and they exhaled in the same way that a mother would if they found their child out wandering the streets in the middle of the night; with all the unearned confidence and haught of someone who didn’t know better.

“I’m not exactly trouble but it’s just weird to be following someone and say that you didn’t want trouble.” Sen was one to talk, “What were you looking for then? I mean I don’t think I cut a friendly figure in general.”

#paras #paras: featuring scout #lkdlgns sorry for her

favillax:

there isn’t anything worse than being wrong in Maverick’s opinion. in fact, he’d rather die that admit he was wrong. so many arguments he’d have with his friends, bandmates, and fellow faction members could have easily been solved by a simple: I was wrong. he’s stubborn, and he typically doesn’t give up a chase. he knows that despite the mercenary jobs he’s been assigned to, that he has a second more important job to fulfill but revenge wasn’t something that came so easily– he’d spent the last five years looking for the ghouls that fucked up his life, and he’d spend the next 500 doing the same. though, his feet were leading him towards a different path apparently. sometimes revenge wasn’t as reliable either–

he is mistaken, though, as the other addresses him– and apparently out of practice in his light stalking skills. comically he looks behind his shoulder, as if there were another person they were speaking to– because surely he was far better at this sort of thing. “I mean–––” explanations are forthcoming. yet they transpire in a dancing, twitchy mouth, searching for reason. “To be fair, I thought I was stalking someone else.”

“Be honest,” though, he’s hoping they’ll sugarcoat things for the sake of his ego. “How far back did you notice that I was,” a pair of fingers float up to provide air quotes, “stalking you.” end air quotes. he seems a bit rusty, given the state of things–

As someone who didn’t often say they were wrong, Sen could commiserate with that. They didn’t find themselves in the wrong much, no matter how much evidence might be presented otherwise. Their convictions were strong and the whole of their person was based on one, immutable fact: they were doing what was needed.

That meant that most of the time when they were wrong, they were left wanting, and instead never learned the error of their ways. It might even be the reason they’d been turned in the first place; a refusal to learn a lesson taught to them over and over again about arrogance... but no matter what it was, Sen would never admit defeat.

As Mav spoke, they exhaled and closed their eyes for a moment, still shrouded by the large hood of their jacket and only given a few moments pause before they’d respond, “Honestly? A minute or two at most. Just sort of sloppy at the end there, I think. Maybe excitement? Who knows. Or maybe I was throwing darts in the dark and got lucky that someone was actually following me.” and there the pride reared its ugly head, “I wasn’t. I sensed you, but maybe for the sake of your question...”

#paras #paras: featuring mav #shegknds she/they're a problem

du-kh:

nikhil had just finished a home visit when he had seen sen go by, slipping in and out of the darkness under the dimly lit street. he hadn’t seen her by the clinic in a while, and he could only guess at what horrors she was finding in the shadows. nikhil watched her gait, observing the way she put one foot in front of the other and making sure she wasn’t limping, because she would absolutely be one to try and stupidly tough it out.

she seemed okay, though. for a second, he thought about turning around and going home, but then he thought about whether or not she had new cuts that needed looking at, if she was coughing or running a fever, whether she needed a new jacket — or a friendly shoulder.

nikhil turned on his heel and jogged after her, hoping to catch her before she disappeared into the dark. he bumped into a trash can, knowing that it probably had made the worst and most suspicious of sounds as it clattered to the ground. he looked up; she had stopped, but her face was hidden with the hood of her jacket.

he stepped underneath a streetlight, waving with a hesitant smile.

“hey,” he signed. “didn’t mean to scare you. it’s been a while, um. just thought i’d take this chance and check in.”

There was a moment where their face hardened, then softened, then found neutrality again, hands moving to sign to him but they also spoke aloud because... it’s just how they’d been taught at the time, “You shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that, Niks. Especially me, you know that.”

They shifted their position a bit, relaxing somewhat and regarding their old friend thoughtfully. The truth was that they were sure what they were ever going to tell Nikhil about what had become of them. They didn’t even know how to explain and though Nik never asked questions, they still felt like if they’d known someone that long (especially someone who reminded them of their brother) they should really be willing to confide in them.

... especially when that person had patched them up more times than they could count.

“What are you even doing out this way?” Sen signed, lips pursed and a hand moving up to push their hood back, revealing a face with a slight hint of blood at one corner of their mouth — something they hadn’t thought about as they’d not been expecting running into someone and having an actual conversation — and then gave Nik what passed for a smile on Sen’s face, “I’m doing okay, Niks. I mean... as okay as I can be.”

#paras #paras: featuring nikhil #ognsokdsg this took me too long i'msorry

@nadiris-ex

There had been a time where stalking through the night had been fun for Sen — not that it was entirely without merit now — and afterwards they’d go home and indulge in a few cupcakes; a reward for a job well-done. Now the eating came during the hunting and the cupcakes tasted like ash in their mouth (perhaps not literally but they missed them oh so very much.)

Sen would love nothing more than to hunt outside town, but things were a bit difficult in that regard now, and even as they finished their — ahem — meal, running a thumb across the corner of their mouth to clean themselves and right everything, they knew that they had very little time before things got tense.

It was no more than five minutes later that their backpack was slung across their back and the gas mask tucked inside, their hair a bit mussed but they looked no worse for the wear. The jacket across their shoulders was tugged tight, and today they felt a bit lost in their own skin but wandered down the dimly lit street with a satisfied stomach and satiated need for violence. A moment’s pause as they heard a noise behind them, turning their attention over their shoulder with the hood of their jacket pulled deep across their brow.