You don’t have all the facts
I love him

blake kathryn

shark vs the universe
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One Nice Bug Per Day

Janaina Medeiros
Monterey Bay Aquarium
i don't do bad sauce passes
AnasAbdin
hello vonnie

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wallacepolsom
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Keni
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art blog(derogatory)
Peter Solarz
KIROKAZE

Kaledo Art
Cosmic Funnies

Origami Around

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@openveined
You don’t have all the facts
I love him
reynauld:
“Ha! True! Your severed head has hung from many belts. That was ugly. Oh- your mug was interesting when it was a bug.”
It makes him genuinely smile under the shredded helmet. Reynauld gently bonks the heel of his palm against his forehead. It’s freezing. And he’s a barely there hideous thing. Still, all is much more bright in humor.
“Ah! I look like the headhunter! Do you remember? Of course! The thing that cast several of us in twain. No more heads are rolling- well, at least ours. I am but a horror thing but look- tis’ all rain and horror here. And Alban cannot drive yet. Some things change. Some do not.”
And he pauses, lifting both hands up, skeletal, spectral…. something.
“-See? I have taken nothing yet- but I could scare them. Ah the iron crown trembles before me, non?”
Many memories. Too many, maybe. Some of them feel fresh like a wound still bleeding. Others feel distant, far-off like they happened in another life. Most are hideous, and yet some... Dismas thumbs at the ring on his finger, twists the band round it idly.
“Only a fool wouldn’t tremble with those eyes on him.” Perhaps cruel-- Reynauld’s fate is nothing if not that-- but also a truth, however unhappy. Still, despite his exhaustion and the state of the world, Dismas still smiles at his friend. “Lucky for you, there are plenty of us here.”
Still here. Some things change, some do not.
Just be careful with what you lift, knight. We’ve got precious space on this thing and little place to store it. I know you ‘n your habits.”
Did you really rip off your sleeves to make a scarf?
"Did you really ask me that question? Feh. What's another man's comforts to you?"
reynauld
"Aye, look the other way. The other way is less gruesome indeed."
“You say that ‘s if we’ve never looked at gruesome things. If I can’t stomach those sorts than we’re not going to make it very far in this, now are we?” Unwavering eyes watch him, despite their usual habit of flicking away. Even if his self is hidden away by his coat, his kerchief, his eyes are on Reynauld. A half-smile lifts from the red fabric. “‘Sides, ‘m the one with the ugly mug, eh?”
even if I'm dead I'm still stealing all of your things.
"Feh." Fond amusement and exhaustion. "Leave it to you to do such a thing. 'Course, you never let that stop you to begin with, did you Reynauld?"
"Long as you're smart with it I s'ppose I'll look the other way..."
a penitent thief
stresstal:
“Yes. That is all.”
She blinks, and it’s a low thing, shadowed, layered over pieces. Faded in and out, like a mirror in a tunnel.
Death, it’s natural. Not so in this place.
“Pay me by never paying me again.”
He near laughs. He can tell the time she will be here fades rapidly, but still, the bittersweetness of it all is hard to avoid.
“You make it sound easier than it is, mh? I have debts to pay, good ‘n bad.”
Dismas shakes his head. Speaking to ghosts about debts. Spilling his heart so easily, yet again.
“I’ll do my best, dove.”
reynauld:
REGULUS:
his arm doesn’t hurt right now – it will hurt later, of course, when the adrenaline runs out of him. he’ll be aching in a bit, but hopefully he’ll have some wine or rum to dull the pain.
the subject of magic gets his attention and he pauses, wrings his hands at the mention of the book. Reynauld could easily see the way his eyes slide to the desk in the corner before he draws his attention back.
“ the magic is…I am getting used to it. it’s something I’m not quite used to, but it’s incredibly useful. being able to communicate with you both without actual words is more useful than I can articulate…on the subject of the – the book, actually. ”
he stands after a moment, favors his arm a bit as he moves to the desk, pulling a key from the box on his desk to unlock the drawer.
“ I found it in my luggage on our way to the Hamlet, and I locked it up when we arrived. ”
the book is a horrid thing, covered in dark leather with shining spots that might be eyes. if one stares at it too long, it’s almost like it blinks out of sync, and the moment he sets it upon the desk, the room is full of an eerie sensation of being watched.
“ is this the book you mean? ”
@reynauld
——-
The room’s air immediately changes when the book is taken out. The space around it vibrates in a way that is visible. Like steam curdling off a pot. He looks to Dismas to meet his eyes, his hands winding the bandages up into a small wad. But then his fingers quake, and the bandaging unfurls. There’s a low whine noise coming from that book. The soft leather cover of the thing rolls.
Eyes blink back at him from the book’s ugly jacket. It’s like being dunked into the freezing cold water of a river. Even for him.
His scars burn.
“Fuck,” he mutters, (the Light will forgive him), and raises a hand to blot out the eye contact of it, “Regulus, that… I thought that book was yours- for… your spells. It was before. How…?”
It’s difficult to think with that horrid whine. He crosses the room to hand the bandages back over. He’s felt this pressure before- so not only the locket? This too? His head throbbed just being around it.
“- You don’t need it now? This is… Regulus, this is evil. We should… get rid of it immediately-”
He lets his voice drop to a whisper, “Dismas- that thing’s terribly dark,” he looks behind him at Regulus. This one was theirs to protect. Their charge.
@openveined
——-
He’s never felt such sinking dread-- his stomach plummets further than it ever has the moment the book lays on the table. Dread and horror, and a defensive spark that urges him to get the book away from here-- or away from him.
Dismas doesn’t need to know anything about magic to know that the book is a terrible thing.
He can’t seem to tear his gaze from it, like it’s looking back at him, challenging, waiting for him to flinch.
It takes the quiet swear from Reynauld to pull his eyes away, and he gets up from his spot at the desk, like staying there puts him in danger.
Terribly dark. To shake Reynauld this much... Dismas lets out a slow breath. Perhaps ignorance is bliss. It’s dangerous, he can feel it, but his lack of knowledge about it protects him from the same sort of fears his friend feels now.
It’s clear that the thing can’t stay.
“He’s right, Regulus. This thing... to keep it around ‘s going to cost blood. Or worse.”
@darkestheir
reynauld:
Drunken feelings are… too much. He moves himself to pull him, blanket, thief and all into his arms. He holds him perhaps a little too tight for a first courting conversation, keeping their foreheads together and adjusting the scarred side of his face to not press too badly on the side of his bag.
“I am cold-” he mumbles, drawing him in and wrapping his arms around his back. He’s got no warmth- he’s hoping the blanket’ll do that well enough. No energy either to warm himself up. Funny that it’s the same warning that he stopped making a year prior. He keeps his eyes closed and rests. He hums to him more tunes and massages over his jacket.
“You were a blessing to me in the past, and I thank you for it.”
Dismas listens to the gentle rustle of fabrics as Reynauld pulls him closer. He sighs as he’s pressed closer. He fumbles through the blanket, clumsy with the calmness, and finds Reynauld’s side so that he can rest his hand there.
“I know,” he hums softly, feeling the chill of the other. “It doesn’ bother me any.”
Not now, at least. Certainly not now.
The affection across the back of his coat lulls him back into resting after the careful moving. He can almost feel each note of Reynauld’s humming.
“I wish I could say you’re welcome ‘n have the memories to mean it. But ah... even now... ‘m happy I could offer you comforts.”
stresstal:
“Quite a statement, to say that you have nowhere else to go, when this place seems hardly a place at all.”
She gestures, aimlessly. To the busy tavern, to the gambling. She knows it is a place to find someone like him normally. But he was so shy, so averted–she got the impression that he was too guilt-ladden to play.
What would do such a thing to a highwayman?
“‘Tis my job to heal. That is all. Tell me more–what shall make you leave?”
“S’ppose I could’ve ended up six-feet under, ‘f anyone had th’ pity to bury me.”
It’s more of a mutter to himself than anything. This place, as meager as it is, is one he at least still moves in, still stays alive in, and wants to stay alive in. He takes a slow drink as Walter sets down one for Junia.
“You’re kind, but I don’t know this is somethin’ I want healin’ for until I can atone for it, mh?”
reynauld:
darkestheir:
he wrings his hands, a nervous motion as his nose is set and Reynauld titters about shade magic. the magic conversation would come later, he’s sure, when he isn’t picking bits of skin from between his teeth.
ugh.
Tardif was dangerous and aggressive and he needed to be dealt with. he needed an outlet, something to get that aggressive energy in the place Regulus needed it.
“ I’ll send him out tomorrow. we’ve a farmer complaining about brigands stealing his livestock. shifting Bishop out for Tardif won’t cause too many problems and he’ll be out of our hair for a number of days at least. ”
and in the mean time, he can figure out the issue of what to do with him and the folks who he was sending home.
“ I trust Walter in the tavern. the man has a heavy crossbow the likes of which I’ve seen nowhere else, and he doesn’t tolerate trouble…but you’re right, both of you are right. ”
he sighs, rubs a bit of black from his face once more, and pulls a disgusted expression.
“ I’m going to be tasting this for days. ”
@reynauld
——-
“Aye, I know- We can take care of it if he harms anyone else,” he nods at Dismas. It’s a fair assessment, “I worry if we do not have him. He, with William, are the best trackers we have. If he is set to go on an expedition, that will be a relief on all parties. Perhaps he can find why I keep seeing so many strays at the border.”
He takes the bandages and shakes his head, peeling the sleeve away from Regulus’s arm to see the damage. It’s not bleeding, but Light is it decorated like he’d been thrown through the window instead. He’s thankful for Dismas’s coat again, this time for protecting him from the full brunt of those blows.
He sighs, prodding at his arm and shaking his head, “I cannot heal this today, I am sorry.- I apologize for having you get the bandages too, mais. Keep it on us, Dismas. Mayhaps we’ll need it.”
Regulus wipes the blood and bits of skin from his mouth. He took more than a chunk out of his opponent. Since the beginning, he’s been behaving strange, but this is beyond it. It was terrifying on the road, and it is equally terrifying here that he had developed… odd abilities.
“Regulus- you-” he started, and then forgot the words, backing up to give space, “That magic looks like…”
No, not quite like that. He murmurs to himself, snapping his fingers.
“Nay. Something is… odd, Regulus. You are using magic without even speaking. Forgive my worry, but you have no book beside you and t’is reminiscent of the cult’s witchery. Are you… alright?”
@openveined
——-
We can take care of it. Dismas almost scoffs. Almost. It’s not an empty offer. He still remembers how Reynauld was while they watched the match. He’d never seen him that... wrathful.
He winces as Regulus’s arm is revealed. It looks ugly, and he can almost feel a sympathetic throb in his own forearm. He’s lucky the brute hadn’t landed too many on him in their own scuffle. God, he’d probably have put a hole in Dismas’s ribs.
A low sigh. There’s so much danger here. He’d like to at least keep his heir safe.
Reynauld’s saying something about the cult magic. Dismas listens, tries too, but he knows he’s missing context. No book..? Significant, apparently. And he knows the witches too well. Darker magics, then. He folds his arms and looks between Reynauld and Regulus.
@darkestheir
reynauld:
REGULUS:
Reynauld presses his fingers into the broken shape of his nose and he hisses, a low sound in his chest at the feeling. fuck, that hurts. it fucking hurts. it’ll have to be set and everything, but he’s high on the adrenaline of getting Tardif to admit he was wrong – and get an offer to train with him later.
he wipes his handkerchief across his mouth to try and wipe away the dark sludge away, though it’s still staining his teeth and wiping it away takes more effort than he has in his body right now.
“ I haven’t been in a boxing ring since before my father died. it’s been years – ‘m surprised I did so well. ”
he sighs through his mouth, because Reynauld is still manhandling his nose, and he eyes Dismas after a moment.
“ you’ve a point, but…he’s good at fighting the brigands. and he’s good at cutting down the swine. and – he has…a point about sending people home. ”
@reynauld
——-
The bone is floating in his body and there’s blood absolutely everywhere. The light coaxes to Reynauld’s fingertips and seeps into Regulus’s skin. There’s the familiar sound of skin and bone reconstructing, miniature popping noises as he attempts to find the worst parts and pull them back together. Healing is never pretty. He gently snaps the bone back into place with a quick jerk, and it sticks and heals.
“- Your father taught you that much, at the least,” he says with gentle prodding and a dollop of unabashed pride, lifting his hands away from his face to look over the handiwork. His nose is set, “T’is worrisome-” his hand comes away with blood and cold black saliva, “This shade magick worries me-”
Tardif was good at fighting. At what cost? For all of his points… he’s dangerous. He nearly killed Dismas.
“I… agree about sending them home. Tardif…” he inhaled, and exhaled. This hasn’t happened before, “I’ll stand beside your decisions. Though I will suggest giving him somewhere else to call his own. He is… too aggressive.”
@openveined
——-
“You fought well-- man hits like he holds railroad spikes, most can’t keep their head on straight after somethin’ like that.”
Did well is an understatement, really. Tardif put him through a window-- Regulus stayed on his feet and kept his ground. If he didn’t hate the man so much, he imagines he would have hollered from where they were watching, all things considered.
He sets the bandages in reach of Reynauld and watches him work. Healing and magic are both well beyond him, save minor field triage. He sighs and folds his arms. Restless, once again.
“Too aggressive? You’ve had to replace a window and nearly two highwaymen-- the man’s lethal and rabid.” He bites back the bitterness in his voice and sits next to Regulus.
“’Course, you make the calls ‘round here ‘n... I’ll respect that. But I don’t trust him. Think he’d bite someone’s ear off in th’ tavern if he had too many drinks.
@darkestheir
reynauld:
@darkestheir
“ ow, ow, careful. my face aches like I’ve been hit by the stagecoach. ” his face is swollen where he’s been hit, and he’s favoring his arm a bit. there’s still the inky stains of magic around his mouth.
“Ah.. Light-..”
He motions behind him, gesturing with his hand, “Dismas, I am not rested enough to heal all of it- can you get the bandages from my things for this? T’is in my room- You did so well fighting-… We were waiting to attend you if needed.”
He frowns, placing his hands on either side of his face and pressing his fingers into the nasal bone. It’s broken to hell and he’s bleeding. There’s still sticky black sludge pouring from his lips. Tardif had gone with a promise to actually train him. The foyer was empty enough to not have any damage to anything but the man himself.
@openveined
-------
Regulus fought well. He’s proud-- maybe smug, even, certainly about the bite and the way it got the hunter to swear. He wishes he could relish that feeling more. But Regulus looks like hell warmed over, and he’s got seething anger in his stomach for the bounty hunter.
If only he’d twisted his blade in his foot. It would have kept him off it longer, and away from his heir.
Dismas is up the stairs and back, quickly. It’s times like these his restlessness aides him. Watching the fight had been hell.
“Don’t know why you’d entertain that feral bastard,” he grumbles as he starts to unroll the bandages. “He’s more beast than man.”
@darkestheir
stresstal
"Like a crossbow, then?" She asks. "Do you reload it like one?"
“Ah, not exactly. Bullet needs more to fire than a bolt on a string. Need gunpowder ‘n a tamping pad, sometimes a rod, too. It’s not quick. ‘N it’s the reason I carry a blade, too.”
He watches her, still unsure of how much she truly wants to know. Guns seem... a little out of her field for her to inquire about. But, he supposes that might be why she wants to know.
stresstal
She sits down, humming. "What brings you to this place?"
He sighs. This question again... well, he supposed a few of them already know. Perhaps she doesn’t remember? She’s like him, then. Blessed and cursed with no memories.
Dismas motions for the barkeep for her and pulls his own ale closer.
“Mh, th’ short answer ‘s Regulus. Th’ longer one ‘s a sin that made it so I couldn’ stay anywhere else. ‘N you?”
"... Should we intervene?"
"Mm." He's pensive, restless. He doesn't trust the bounty hunter as far as he can throw him. And he's with the one that gave Dismas his chance at redemption. The first to really see him again.
"What do you think? I'd sooner th' hunter be in th' graveyard than here. Your judgement 's more sound."
th’ man’s a rabid dog. what did you expect when you hired him on.