RMH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Xuebing Du
Misplaced Lens Cap
Today's Document
YOU ARE THE REASON
oozey mess
Cosimo Galluzzi
Three Goblin Art
Keni
No title available
tumblr dot com
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Kaledo Art
Not today Justin
izzy's playlists!
Jules of Nature
occasionally subtle
Stranger Things
seen from Malaysia
seen from Bosnia & Herzegovina
seen from France
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Belgium
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@revenanthearts
independent, private, selective multimuse blog featuring mostly ocs from dungeons & dragons and characters from the witcher, hellaverse, and various animanga.
wirtten by August. he / him. 28. PST.
CARRD. // bios complete: 04/26 (currently in progress: andrealphus)
had to draw my favorite guy ever shoutout to @revenanthearts for making the only character to exist
“ 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞. “
PSA: I have officially moved my Alastor over to his own singlemuse blog!
I’ve just finished his carrd! You can now find him over at @harteatiing !!
// honestly starting to consider moving Al to his own blog idk tho. i know a couple of my friends have singlemuses for their favorite creatures and im like. hm.
// um hi so yeah i did do this haha.
still VERY MUCH under construction, but you can find my Alastor over at:
harteatiing !
i wont be removing him from here until i get all my stuff set up there but. just know that he'll be there!
// honestly starting to consider moving Al to his own blog idk tho. i know a couple of my friends have singlemuses for their favorite creatures and im like. hm.
“ Celebrate while you can. ” - vox for alastor
Oho, now this is interesting!
Naturally, he's seen Vox's face plastered all over the Pentagram since his return-- even before their confrontation-- a reminder of what came before it all and what all he's missed, alight in vivid color. There was the poorly hidden camera that arrived on the tail of their public spat, courtesy of the unfortunate slithery gentleman lost in the last battle, their brief exchange of words through the Voxtek watch-- Why a watch requires a screen of all things, Alastor will never willingly know-- and most importantly, those little flying cameras of his that hovered night and day around the hotel...
All that in mind, it was only a matter of time before Vox noticed that he did, in fact, not perish or flee entirely in the wake of the last extermination. It wasn't a secret Alastor was attempting to keep from his eyes, either-- all too happy to pose and wave in the briefest moments of on-screen clarity before his various lenses.
Yet he hadn't expected to run into him like this-- a simple stroll through the entertainment district on his way to visit Cannibal Town has become something else entirely.
Reasonably, the Radio Demon knows he should be cautious. He knows that Vox is not nearly the trifle he likes to present him as in front of others... and not only that, but he knows that he is in no state to start a fight with him. The thought festers and irritates, punctuated by the painful strain of his self-administered stitches as he turns to face his rival properly-- first his head with a sharp crack followed by the rest of his body. He knows he should hurry away...and yet--
Lips pull wide and jaws unhinge, parting for a cackling laugh to fill the air between them. Alastor can feel the deep tear in his chest ache and sting-- damn, he'll have to rebandage that later.
"Why, I fully intend to!" The filter over his voice crackles to life, distorting the mirthful tone with the light hiss of on-air ambience. "And why shouldn't I? The defeat of the exorcists is a temporary win for everyone down here, is it not, Old Pal?~"
That should be the end of it. That should be his cue to exit the stage.
Alastor doesn't take it.
"...It's been a while since we've seen each other in person, hasn't it? Have you not been celebrating?"
4-word sentence prompts // accepting !
4-Word Sentence Prompts
Part I An assortment of prompts and/or starters using only four words. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. Reblog, please do not repost or add.
“ I don't need you. ”
“ Celebrate while you can. ”
“ It was too much. ”
“ I'm so, so sorry. ”
“ Let me love you. ”
“ Where have you been? ”
“ Why am I here? ”
“ I would love to. ”
“ I tried but failed. ”
“ You'll never forgive me. ”
“ I want to confess. ”
“ I will protect you. ”
“ You don't deserve me. ”
“ I don't deserve you. ”
“ You are safe here. ”
“ You choose your fate. ”
“ I have lost control. ”
“ I don't recognize myself. ”
“ You are to blame. ”
“ You lack the skills. ”
“ Be still, don't move. ”
“ Yet again you lie. ”
“ You are so beautiful. ”
“ Take it off. Now. ”
“ Look at you now. ”
“ Shoot before it escapes! ”
“ You can't do this! ”
“ Please don't leave me. ”
“ Please leave me along. ”
“ Worship me or die. ”
“ Bow before me, peasant. ”
“ Did you make this? ”
“ I can't believe this! ”
“ You are my villain. ”
“ You are my hero. ”
“ I don't take sides. ”
“ Run, don't look back. ”
“ My life is perfect. ”
“ Don't lie to me. ”
“ When is it over? ”
“ What is this madness? ”
“ Cut loose, have fun! ”
“ I hate you all. ”
“ I love you, dear. ”
“ You drive me crazy. ”
The feeling of being watched was not an uncommon one within the realm of Hell: from the television demon's drones to the watchful eyes of scared sinners... The atmosphere easily gave way to such a feeling of paranoia.
But for some, that feeling came from something much more sinister.
It was late: late enough that even the nightlife of Pentagram City was beginning to die down. An almost peaceful silence would fall over the city. It was the perfect moment, where no one would know what was to occur. Roo appears behind Alastor, a practiced smile spreading across her face. Almost innocent, yet sickeningly sweet.
"Quite a lovely night for a walk, don't you agree?" She approaches him, stopping as their shoulders brush. "I couldn't help but hear that our darling princess was able to set foot in Heaven. Isn't that just fascinating?" Bitterness begins to hang from her every word. "Won't you tell me what you know about that? I would love to hear your thoughts, Fawn."
Perhaps another sinner might have missed the change in the air-- the way the night thickens oppressively along the abandoned city street, closing in like a vice around its sole visitor. The silence that sets in plunges the darkened road into liminality, cutting it off from the rest of the pentagram as easily as one might cut a slice from a cake.
And enjoyed with just as much relish, Alastor is certain.
In that moment, every eye in hell feels fixed upon his back-- a titanic predator spotting its prey in the flickering neon haze. It sends the Radio Demon's head reeling each and every time, sick with an animal rage at her. At himself. At everything.
A familiar terror urges him to run as he feels her take shape behind him, to gnaw off his own limbs to escape this trap he's been caught in. She doesn't have to speak to announce herself, doesn't have to make her presence known by falling into step beside him-- he would know her regardless. He feels the chain around his throat burn.
Cervine ears flatten back against scarlet curls and Alastor's shoulders tense, locking up like a deer in the headlights at the brush of hers, bracing himself for some kind of impact.
It comes in the form of her smile, of her insidious sweetness and that damned petname.
To his credit, he keeps his own expression tightly schooled, forcing the fear from the lines of his eyes. With more effort than he'd like to admit, Alastor sharpens them straight ahead and smooths the tension in his brow, thins his smile to wring the snarl from his lips, and keeps walking along his path beside the one who holds his leash.
"Mm." It was a lovely night before, yes. "I'm afraid my thoughts may be of little use. I did not accompany Charlotte to the Pearly Gates, after all. I cannot tell you any more about Heaven than I'm sure you already know."
But that won't do. He knows that won't do.
"To my knowledge, her father got her the meeting somehow. Suffice it to say, though, things did not go well for her up there-- as I'm sure is evidenced by the results."
22. does your muse tend to take on a more dominant or submissive role in the relationship, or does it vary based on circumstance? - for avelin!
It depends on the circumstance, for the most part! For Avelin to trust someone enough to enter a genuine relationship with them, that already denotes a willingness to relinquish some amount of control. It's trusting himself in another's hands in a way that he has overall been taught not to do. His power manifests in being able to use other's emotions and affection to his benefit-- it's a safety net, of sorts. A benefit of his line of work to remain always on the fringes but to be able to gain favor from just about anyone he encounters. In that way, he lends himself to a more dominant role in matters of flirtation, but a serious romantic connection means opening himself far more than that. Handing over his heart in that way is fundamentally an act of submission for him.
It's also one he is more willing to commit to than he lets on. In truth, he wants to be able to give himself to someone without fear like that. Or perhaps, he wants to give himself to someone despite the fear and allow them to soothe it.
I think that in a relationship, Avelin would take the lead in a lot of social matters, simply because that is his biggest comfort zone, but he could grow into being willing to step back and let his partner handle things/take care of him if he isn't feeling up to something and/or if they were inclined to do so. Little things like what they do in a day, where they go to eat, etc. aren't something he feels the need to control but he's happy to offer opinions when requested. In the bedroom, he does struggle with people-pleaser behavior but i think with the right partner he could recover from that. Regardless of giving/receiving, allowing his partner to focus on his pleasure is also an act of submission that would be very important and good for him.
He doesn't feel the need for traditional 'dominance', but he has difficulty in letting things be About Him because pleasing others has always BEEN his sense of control, if that makes sense? His definition of dominant and submissive is kind of flipped. Letting himself be cared for/focused on is submitting for him, ykwim? I think that getting into a real romantic relationship is not only something he secretly wants, but something that would go a long way in allowing him to give over that control in a very healthy way and heal by doing so thanks for coming to my tedtalk alba skdhgfhjdsf
romance & relationship headcanons // accepting.
"is that a threat or a warning?" - Lucifer @ Alastor
"Hmm~..." The sinner's unimpressed intonation matches the lazy smirk that draws his lips wide across his face as he raises his chin with an imperiousness few would dare to turn upon the King of Hell.
But, really, how can he resist? He knows full well that Lucifer will do nothing substantial to retaliate-- not with dear Charlotte counting Alastor amongst her friends.
"I'm sure you would like to know, wouldn't you?"
He looms over the diminutive devil, gazing down with eyes half-lidded and gleaming in the warm, dim light that dances out from the sitting room fireplace. Considering Lucifer had built their rooms upon the same floor, it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed like this-- a common area is shared in common, after all.
Still, there's a certain surprise to the situation-- a curiosity piqued in the way Lucifer saw him standing before the hearth, glass in hand, music floating freely through the crackle of his ambient radio noise...and chose not to turn and leave immediately. Was he seeking this sort of challenge? If so, Alastor is all too happy to provide.
"Let's call it," His smirk widens further still, lips parting to reveal the carnivorous jaws lying in wait just behind, gritted tight into an indecipherable grin. "a friendly piece of advice! As I just said, I have no intention of leaving this room just yet. I'm quite enjoying the wind-down from the day so if you do not wish to share the evening in my company..."
He swirls the lowball glass in his claws once, glancing down to feign boredom. Deep red eyes watch the firelight play off the amber of his whiskey for a moment-- as if the glittering of the liquid is far more interesting than the fallen angel before him. He raises the drink to his lips, the rim of the glass framing the curve of his smile as the spiced burn of the rye spreads pleasantly over his tongue, warming his throat and chest as he swallows.
Taking his sweet time in addressing Lucifer, the overlord exhales a note of satisfaction. Drink finished, he lowers the glass from his lips, tapping two of his claws lightly against the edge of his now-empty tumbler as he finally turns his gaze back to the Sin of Pride.
"Then you may want to find another space. Unless you'd care for a drink?"
the verifiers. || accepting.
blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! a collection of icky, bloody prompts for those who like to choose violence. actions are reversible. general warning for blood, violence, murder, death.
𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :
" that's a lot of blood. "
" it isn't mine. "
" what did you do ? "
[ sigh ] " what did you do ? "
" come on. have a taste. "
" holy shit, are you okay ? "
" it looks worse than it feels. "
" you should see the other guy. "
" it's a good look on you. you should get covered in blood more often. "
" lean on me. "
" oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck ? is that what i fucking think it is ? "
" . . . gross. "
[ standing over a body ] " oops. "
" is that a fucking body ? "
" look, i'm sorry, okay ? "
" what the hell happened ? "
" before you say anything, it wasn't me. "
" at least it wasn't me this time. "
" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you pretend it isn't. "
" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you wish it wasn't. "
" i'm not scared of you. "
" you don't scare me. "
" shut up and let me help you. "
" i got your shirt all bloody. "
" let's get you cleaned up. "
" that looks like it hurts. "
" i'm fine, just. . . give me a minute. "
" we are so fucked. "
" what the fuck is wrong with you ? "
" are you gonna help me clean it up or not ? "
" the fucker deserved it. "
" red looks good on you. "
" what the hell did you do ; tap - dance all over the body with ice - skates ? "
" what, did you run over the body with your car a couple times after ? "
" i. . . i didn't mean to. . . "
" sorry. fuck, i'm sorry. "
" this isn't what it looks like. "
" it was an accident. "
" motherfucker ran right into my knife, i swear. "
" people need to look both ways before crossing. . . bullets. "
" would you believe me if i said wrong place, wrong time ? "
" hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay ? "
" they deserved it, right ? please tell me they deserved it. "
" you're bleeding. "
" what the fuck happened to you ? "
" you're getting blood on the carpet. "
" sit down before you fall down. "
" that looks like a you problem. "
𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :
sender spits out a mouthful of blood at receiver's feet
sender spits out a mouthful of blood on receiver
receiver finds sender covered in blood
sender tries desperately to stop receiver's bleeding
sender helps receiver clean up after a kill
sender wipes blood from receiver's face with a washcloth
sender wipes blood from receiver's face with their thumb
sender licks receiver's blood off a knife
sender licks receiver's blood off their thumb
sender lights up a cigarette a foot away from someone they killed before offering one to receiver
receiver finds sender stood over a body
sender stitches up receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]
sender digs their finger into receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]
sender frantically checks receiver for injuries under all the blood
sender guides receiver's bloody hands under a faucet / water source and begins washing them clean
sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood
sender tilts receiver's head back to staunch a nosebleed
sender draws a smiley face out of the blood they spilled :)
receiver finds sender cleaning up a kill in a daze
sender looks receiver in the eye as they shoot / stab / kill someone
sender ruffles receiver's hair, getting blood all over their hand
sender gets some of receiver's blood on them and makes a face
sender flicks blood at receiver to annoy them
sender stomps in a pool of blood to splash it on receiver
sender slips in their victim's blood but receiver steadies them before they can fall
sender steadies receiver when they slip in the blood sender spilled
receiver comes home to sender covered in blood and waiting for them with all the lights off
sender spits out a tooth and it hits receiver
sender tries to wipe blood off receiver but the blood on their hands just makes it worse
sender takes an injury meant for receiver
sender shows up on receiver's doorstep covered in blood
sender sits down quietly next to receiver after receiver kills someone
sender punches receiver in the mouth
receiver watches sender lick the blood off their fingers like its cheeto dust
sender helps receiver bury a body
sender hugs receiver just to get their victim's blood all over them <3
sender hugs receiver just to get their blood all over them <3
sender leans on receiver for support
sender kills someone to protect receiver
receiver finds sender in a frenzy maiming a body after they've already killed it
sender kills someone and the blood spatters on receiver
receiver finds sender desperately trying to wash the blood off of themself
sender kisses receiver to taste the blood on their busted lip
sender shoots / stabs receiver non - fatally as a warning
There was never a day that Rosie wasn't excited to see Alastor. However, today was particularly special as a particular gift was delivered to Rosie. After settling some things with an imp, she noticed Alastor just down the street taking his usual stroll. A toothy grin formed over her lips as she waved him down.
"Alastor, darling! Come here a moment! I have something exciting to show you!"
After the years spent in absence from his own afterlife, it was truly impossible not to miss this. In fact, Alastor quickly realized that there were few things he missed more than his lovely afternoon walks through Cannibal Town. The pleasant company, the delicious food, the sort of gossip that he could find centuries of amusement in-- and an odd sense of belonging among most of its hellborn residents (Susan notwithstanding, of course).
Why, it's the closest to 'home' that he can remember feeling throughout all his decades spent in the Pentagram-- and now that he's returned with a chance to pick up all the little things once more in the meanwhile of his machinations, he finds that the feeling continues to ring true. It isn't the first time he's been back to visit since he'd brought Charlotte here to bolster their forces, of course, but the effect of the place hasn't lessened one bit.
The Radio Demon beams bright as he dips his head in response to a familiar grinning face greeting him on his way. Some empty-eyed children pause in their game of tag to call out, flailing their little hands at him in delight as he passes, and he returns the gestures with a wave of his newly-repaired staff. As he rounds the corner, a chuckle-- light and easy-- leaves his chest, accompanied by the floating notes of a jazzy tune newly imposed into the crackle of his ambient static. It's a relief how little Cannibal Town has changed.
He's still reveling in the comfortable nostalgia of his dear friend's territory when he catches sight of Rosie herself, beckoning him over from a short ways up the street. Her expression is positively radiant with that wide smile of hers-- a smile that Alastor cant help but return.
The corners of his eyes crinkle, alight with warmth as his form sinks into the shade, reappearing before her with a shadowy flourish mere seconds later. Anything exciting by Rosie's standards is almost certain to meet his own as well, so who could blame him for indulging in a bit of eager curiosity?
"Dearest, you know I could never resist such an offer! Do consider me your utterly captivated audience!"
@boundlss / from here.
The sea stretches before him, from one side of his horizon to the other-- wide, unfathomable, constant and unwavering in its motion. It fills his senses like nothing else, even when he pulls himself from its embrace to settle on the sand instead, and for once he feels unburdened-- steady yet weightless, and free in a way his viciously intimate relationship with harsh realities has never allowed.
The breeze that drifts off the waves washes over him, cooling against ocean-salted scarred skin as the sound of the tide lapping at the shoreline drowns out the replay of their most recent battle in his mind. Clear, blue-green waters glitter like a million jewels in the warm golden light of the setting sun, and sitting here, soaking it all in beside Tempest, after everything they've gone through in their tangled-together lifetimes, feels almost unreal.
Almost, because no matter how light his shoulders and heart might feel, how unlikely and hard-fought and thrilling their victory still feels, the pain will always remind him. Always keep him present and tie him back down to physicality. That chronic sharpened tightness in his chest always returns as the adrenaline and endorphins die; sometimes enough to buckle him, sometimes barely there, but never entirely gone.
He breathes deep, trying to even out the swell and contraction of his lungs to mitigate the stabbing twist in the scar tissue, and though the fatigue doesn't fade, the ache eventually dulls down to normal.
Tempest is looking at him, he notes from the corner of his eye, and it isn't the first time he's caught his companion taking notice of the state he's in without asking. But it is perhaps the first time Vel would have answered him if he had.
He deserves to know eventually, doesn't he? Especially now that returning to Hanazira is something they plan on doing together. At least he knows some of what to expect from the other's goals there-- Tempest should know what might be waiting there for him too.
Maybe he already has some idea, though, given how easily he seems to put things together-- even when Vel's words fail him. Ever since that conversation they had, he looks at Vel like he's never understood anything better.
There was a time where that wouldn't have felt nearly as comforting as it does now. Where Tempest was supposed to be just another body at the end of his blade, just another set of eyes to watch the life drain out of. Vel was a living tool, rented out to spill blood without question and collect his payment in gore-red hands at the end of the day. Someone looking at him the way Tempest does now would have broken that tool.
He wants to see that look on Tempest's true face.
However, his train of thought breaks then, along with the comfortable quiet of the beach-- courtesy of what is likely the most concerning statement his counterpart has made to date. The nature of sacrifice-- just the sentence alone, coming from Tempest, sets off alarm bells. Vel turns his head to properly lay his eyes on the man beside him, gaze narrowing, brows screwing up into a deep furrow as frowning lips part to fire back--
Only to be cut off as his friend continues, light laughter filling the brief pause before he expounds on the true purpose of his words.
"Hell of a conversation starter if you didn't want me to give you a look." Vel grumbles in response, venomless even with his ears flattening back against his hair. The unexpected burst of concern simmers down into a soft shade of reproach, yet he doesn't move an inch from Tempest's side, following his gaze back out towards the darkening glow of the horizon. "...The one thing I've wanted most, huh...?"
It isn't an easy question, but it is at the same time, and Vel considers it deeply despite not having the faintest idea of its purpose. He still doesn't know exactly what that one thing really is for him either, but he certainly has a better idea of it now than he did when they first arrived in Aerath.
When he looks back at Tempest here and now, he thinks this might be the closest he's ever been to knowing that answer.
"I think," He breathes the words like they're breakable. Like despite the brief hint of humor, the true weight of the question isn't something to underestimate. "That if something like that is what I'd gain, even if I had everything but that in what I'd have to give up...Mm. I'd do it."
Vel's answer rings confident and true, surprising even himself with his certainty. Giving up everything he had once been is more familiar to him than wanting, but the more he thinks about it lately, the more he's glad he stood up that day. The more sure he is that he would do it again.
And as he speaks now, he's never been more sure of anything. "Maybe everything else I've ever been is worth sacrificing... If it doesn't have the one thing you want most, then why would you keep it when you have the other option?"
i never meant to hurt you. - stolas for blitzø
Stolas never meant to hurt him?
In the moment, the words don't even feel real. With those words, he sets off a bomb in Blitzø's head. The fallout lances white-hot into him, bouncing around his skull full-force, ringing shrill and sharp in his hearing-- the shellshock of an explosion he got just a bit too fucking close to.
They leave him helpless, bones shattered, eyes stinging.
What the fuck is he supposed to do with that?
"I--" Barely past the first word, his voice sticks to his teeth, equally desperate and unable to make it past his fangs. He doesn't even know what the fuck he's trying to say.
He thought he understood what they were-- what Stolas wanted. He thought this might the one thing he wouldn't ruin irreversibly because for once, he could provide what someone was actually looking for.
Days since last catastrophic fuck-up: zero.
Because here's Stolas, trying to soothe this pain in him, even though there was never supposed to be any pain to soothe. Never any feelings to hurt. The assassin's stomach sinks. There's no doubt in Blitzø's fucking piece of shit brain that he's hurt Stolas just as much. Just like he hurts everyone-- whether he means to or not.
He shakes his head, fixing his eyes to the floor, the ceiling, any-fucking-where else.
"Yeah, it's not like I think you did. I'm fine-- I get it, I mean come on--" Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. Now he can't stop the words as they spill out of his mouth-- too much, far too much now to swallow, he's always too much or not enough and never anything in between. "You want someone to love you, to care, and make your life better, and all that sappy shit and why shouldn't you? Why shouldn't you fucking have that."
Why shouldn't he have that with someone he actually wants instead of being stuck with some broken imp? Not the guy for him, just the guy who was there. A nice memory built on a lie. A shell of that 'first friend' Stolas had wanted so badly. Bitterness he has no fucking right to feel fills his lungs and makes him dizzy. The words just. keep. coming.
"And you can't as long as I'm hanging around, so sure, makes perfect sense to me. You don't owe me anything, Stolas."
@revenanthearts ( amsel ) / plotted starter. (cyran azerrad kapral).
The door swings shut behind Amsel, and for a moment Cyran doesn't really know how to approach the situation.
It had been difficult, the day before. Hard conversations had left him feeling like a raw shell of himself, and he's not entirely sure it's back to normal this morning. The unnatural feeling had only gotten worse when Amsel had offered---before anyone else had even had the chance to speak---to supply Cyran with his breakfast.
That he hadn't expected it from Amsel was a complete understatement. Is a complete understatement, as he still doesn't quite believe that Amsel really intends to offer himself up like this. Cyran had pegged him for a private person, but the attack from ...
From ... ?
The attack hadn't helped Cyran's inward notion that he would probably never end up having a taste of Amsel's blood, and since part of him still believes even now that they'd probably part ways with him after the Higher Vampire is dealt with, he had made his peace with that reality.
So now, here, he doesn't know what to do.
"... You know you don't have to," Cyran reiterates, warily, as though he thinks Amsel will change his mind at Cyran's slightest misstep. "I'm sure Zehiri or Cam would be perfectly willing. You did just have an incredibly horrible experience under the fangs of a vampire."
Amsel's expression seldom changes-- a fact that he's more than aware of, though it's not for a lack of trying. Showing emotion freely hasn't come naturally to him in years-- not since he became this-- and he'd be lying (like always) if he said he didn't begrudge himself for that more often than he lets on. This moment is no different. His face has remained blank, his voice steady, a cold iron shell; unbreaking as he makes the offer; as he gets up to move somewhere more private; even as Cyran shuts the door and turns to address him.
Being hard to read has its undeniable benefits on his chosen path-- Yet, he thinks to himself as he watches the uncertainty blend with raw nerves in Cyran's dark eyes, that he'd like to give his companion a more reassuring impression, if only he were able. How many times will the people around him search his face only to find nothing? It isn't pleasant for him-- it can't be pleasant for him.
Especially not Cyran, especially not right now.
Nerves aren't the only thing that's raw between them after the day before-- after the last several days, actually...but it bothers Amsel less than Cyran seems to think it does-- or should. His various recent near-death experiences, Cyran's previous dislike of him, the other's tumultuous emotions, the troubles of traveling with a man being hunted by a higher vampire-- all of it pales when compared to all Amsel has already endured.
And so, when Cyran insists that he need not offer his own blood for his breakfast, Amsel simply nods.
"I am not here because I believe that I have to be," Though his tone catches on the same heavily accented deadpan it always does, there is some gentleness to be caught through the bluntness, in the relaxed slope of his shoulders, the easy tilt of his head. "Truly, I take no issue with it. As you have indicated, you have had such moments with the others and they are all doing fine-- not to mention, you have at least had the decency to ask me, and to triple check at that, which puts you a step above my incredibly horrible experiences."
The humor is accompanied by a shrug as the warlock offers out a hand, palm up-- an offer to enter his space-- a reassurance, hopefully, in place of the ones he struggles more to display.
"If you do not wish to drink from me, though, that is alright too. It should be your choice as well."
what's your phone wallpaper: a picture from my recent month long stay in japan. it's from the park i passed through on my walk to the nagasaki prefectural art museum!
last song you listened to: fair - the amazing devil
currently reading: rereading yuumori, at the moment lol
last movie: some really bad thriller movie? i dont remember the name now but when i get bored i just put on something trashy from the thriller or horror genre lol
what are you wearing right now?: fuckin uhhh shirt? pants? lmao
how tall are you?: 5'0"
piercings / tattoos?: i don't have any piercings at the moment but for tattoos, i have a leg piece of red camellias that tie into some symbolization for a character i created who means a lot to me (it's vel)
glasses / contacts: i have glasses but i only wear them when i'm driving
last thing you ate?: a little piece of mint chocolate
current obsession: i'm real deep in hellaverse brainrot rn and also wuwa and also yuumori and also every dnd game my friends and i are playing. thanks for asking.
do you have a crush right now?: nah, i've tried the trial run for romantic feelings and have decided that it just aint for me lol
favorite fictional character: overall or like right now because overall it's william james moriarty, baby, but like specifically right now in this moment most of my braincells are dedicated to alastor and then calcharo from wuwa lol but like also also if we're counting OCs, i love my friend alba's character tempest and my friend tracie's character sagra like a painful amount im tempest's biggest fan and i am first in line for sagra's hand in marriage frfr
last place you travelled: i spent all of march in japan but like if you count like just going outside then i went to breakfast with my grandpa at the diner around the corner last thursday
Tagged by: @tocliimb
Tagging: shrugs
