i'm going on ahead.

my blood is black. crona gorgon, affiliated with citta alveare.

[onyxvein]

vitalalchemy:

“HEE? What did you just call me?”

Oh dear. Plague Knight didn’t seem to like what Ragnarok had called him, as he was now trying to hit the strange creature with his staff. Sadly, this may result in Crona getting hurt in this quarrel. Oh, their poor shoulders may ache by the end of this conversation.

“I am not what you call a ‘dumb ass’! You do not know who you are messing with, do you? HMM? It seems as if you do not!”

Obviously not. Nobody knows about the Order of no Quarter within Hive City, dummy.

Ragnarok let out a deep snicker before dissipating into Crona, leaving his meister to fend off Plague Knight alone. Plague got a few good whacks in with his staff while Crona cowered away from him, trying to protect their fragile body and to reason with the little knight.

“Ow-- ow-- please stop! H-he didn’t-- ow-- mean it!” they cried, lifting their hands in surrender. “W-we don’t know who-- who you are...!”

After a few more wallops, a serious look briefly flashed across their panicked expression, and their tremulous tone took on a darker note: “P-please don’t make me hurt you...!”

Why did Ragnarok always do this to them...

[onyxvein]

@ersatzsun 

“S-s-s--”

Yes, the woman before them indeed had snakes for legs. Anomalies like that wouldn’t have usually bothered them; after all, Crona also shared a body with another living being. But this? It was too bone-chilling a coincidence for them. Surely this wasn’t a pawn of Medusa’s that followed them here...?

“Snakes...” they mumbled tremulously.

Crona nervously hugged themselves in an attempt to present as small and invisible as possible. Even Ragnarok kept quiet and out of sight-- they both knew that if this woman was really working for Medusa, they would have no say in whatever was in store for them.

[onyxvein]

invisawolf:

     The well dressed, and indeed, serious woman came up to him and would only give him a certain look for a time, observing him, and taking this boy… girl? Whatever, it didn’t matter. They were clearly having an awful time, and in no good state of mind to be out in the afternoon rush hour. She bent down a touch to get at his eye level, and spoke in her nicest voice. Warm and deep. “Hey there, you don’t look to well.” She lay her hands on the kids shoulders, gently and steadily. They were as meek as milk and Chain didn’t want to send them into a cardiac arrest by being to bold. 

     “I just got off work and was heading to lunch, why don’t you come with me? You look like you could use some food in your stomach. If not, no harm no foul.” She let her hands off their shoulders, and folded them under her breasts. The kid has pretty hair, if only it wasn’t in a bowl cut they might be cute. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Crona instinctively flinched and squeezed their eyes shut as the woman closed the gap between them, but much to their surprise, she didn’t hit them; the gentle but unyielding hands wrapped around their shoulders grounded them a bit, forcing the world to stop tilting quite so much. They hesitantly opened one eye up at her coaxing, trembling and wary.

“O-oh, I-- um, n-no, it’s-- it’s okay... I’m--!” they mumbled through grit teeth, shaking their head at her invitation. As soothing as the woman seemed, it was far too scary to be at a stranger’s mercy like that-- at least, that’s what they thought, until a look of intense pain flashed across their features, and they doubled over as though they had been punched. 

As it turns out, that was exactly what happened-- internally. Ragnarok wouldn’t ever pass up a chance at free food, and he relayed that to his meister as plainly as he could without bothering to show himself. After hissing Ragnarok’s name as softly as they could, they squinted back up at Chain, sweat gleaning from their forehead.

“I-- I mean, um... y-yes...? T-thank... you.” Crona remained hunched over, arms wrapped around their small frame protectively as their eyes trailed to the ground. There was significant hesitation in their last response; it seemed they had to actually think about the question. “It’s-- my name is... Crona.” 

[onyxvein]

vitalalchemy:

The only response Crona had gotten from their silence was, well, even more silence from the Knight in question. It looked as if they were both going to be in some sort of staring contest, with Plague Knight letting himself keep the stare going on and on.

The stare just seems to get worse when Ragnarok materialized out of nowhere. And just like a parrot, he lets himself mimic what the strange, rag-doll looking creature had said.

“What in the name of the Valley is that?”

As though stirred from a dream, Crona blinked at Plague Knight’s question, their eyes slowly widening in horror upon realizing that, yes, Ragnarok did indeed just engage with this... weird thing. They quickly snapped a hand to their shoulder in an attempt to either hide their weapon or force him to dissipate-- either one worked.

“Th-th-that’s-- it’s a-- a--” Crona stammered, paling as they scrambled in vain to cobble together some sort of excuse. Even back home, their shared body was an anomaly, and they wanted to avoid the inevitable conversation as best they could at all times.  

 “I asked you first, dumbass.” Ragnarok was on their other shoulder now, a little more bold and visible now that he had been directly addressed. Crona let out a quiet whine and went to repeat their attempt at covering him, only to be forcibly stopped by Ragnarok’s white mitten. “It’s rude to change the subject.”  

[onyxvein]

@vitalalchemy

The Hive was undoubtedly no stranger to the strange, and Crona was not exempt from that title-- but the little creature before them was just so... odd-looking. There was a hint of familiarity, too, in his mask and robes, a reminder of a long-since repressed memory from their early childhood. But that thought was easily dismissed; now was not the time to chase fleeting memories.

Ragnarok soon picked up on the interest Crona had in the creature and materialized ever-so-slightly, just enough out of their shoulder to snag a peek. He was not so tactful as Crona, who was content to ruminate in silence... no, Ragnarok always had to open his mouth.

“What the hell is that.”

[onyxvein]

@romanhoitic

Was it just them, or had that woman across the room been staring at them for an uncomfortable amount of time? Of course, there were legitimate reasons for Crona to be stared at, their odd appearance notwithstanding-- too often they found themselves muttering quietly to an unseen Ragnarok, who they insisted stay out of sight until they at least got their bearings.

“R-Ragnarok...”

There was a familiar sharpness to this particular woman’s gaze, though, that sent shudders down their spine. Crona peered up at her with wide eyes for a split second, only to hastily look away, slender fingers twirling nervously in their uneven hair. The sound of encroaching footsteps set their heat rattling, but they weren’t going to say anything unless they were directly addressed; Crona felt it best to avoid this odd woman at all costs.

[onyxvein]

@gallantgrump

Ragnarok was never one to sit by quietly. He had always detested the weaker form he developed after Death removed his souls... but more than anything, he felt especially slighted by the scientists, what with their further limiting his power. Just how was he supposed to keep his host alive if he couldn’t do something as basic as harden their blood?

Not that Crona was interested in fighting anymore. The two had several arguments about it since their arrival in the Hive; Ragnarok believed they most certainly should harvest souls again in order to regain their power, but Crona refused to hear it. We’re good people now, they said. We made a promise, they said.

Well, Ragnarok didn’t give a rat’s ass about promises, and he intended to prove it. Presently, Crona was sitting at a little bench, back to the general foot-traffic flow, mumbling something something Maka-this, Medusa-that-- Ragnarok wasn’t listening. A single bulbous eye peered out of the sharp shoulder blades jutting out of Crona’s back, scanning any passersby that came particularly close. Just as he was growing bored of this, what looked to be the perfect target strolled by, and Ragnarok wasted no time laying the trap.

“Nice get-up, asshole!” came the gruff and obnoxiously loud sneer, and Crona froze mid-mumble, mouth hanging open in shock. Oh, if only the Earth would open and swallow them up right now...

[onyxvein]

@invisawolf

Crona had been to this city before, they were sure of it. The memories were there, warped and hazy and all too vague, like something out of a dream-- but the familiarity of the Hive was too strong to be simple happenstance. It was almost nothing like the quiet Death City, the energetic hustle and bustle foreign and frightening to them.

Almost immediately they felt rooted to the spot in the midst of the sidewalk-- the city’s vastness overwhelmed and set anxious fire to their veins. Crona hunched over with a small whimper, searching the dull wooden sword inexplicably in their hands with wild and frantic eyes.

 “Stop it, be quiet, please,” they hissed to what seemed like no one in particular. “You-- you’re not h-helping-- no, I-- I can’t--”

This quiet arguing with themselves went on for far longer than it should have. Passersby side-stepped them uncomfortably and shot dirty or confused glances, thankfully unbeknownst to Crona. It wasn’t until they registered another pair of feet facing them that they went silent, their gaze slowly trailing up to find a serious-looking woman had approached them. Whatever had given them the courage to speak out was gone now, their tongue heavy as lead; instead of speaking to her, they merely paled a sickly, nauseating white.

Things were... not looking great.

[onyxvein]

let’s get this anxious child started right off with a starter call! at least one paragraph guaranteed. we’ll just say it’s uncapped-- i may end up being selective if it’s too much tho!

[ikkibaguni]