# 𝐒𝐂𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐁𝐂𝐑𝐍 . is a dependent blog for 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐤, written and ᴛᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ loved by daiz ( twenty6 | she/her | est ) . 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁 with any posts on this blog if you are not in maggotcreek. x. x.
𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒊𝒏 ; the thin line between medicine and poison , rebirth through self-destruction , memories clawing their way out from the mud , the impossible task of overcoming trauma alone, emptiness as a tool for survival, wrenching the reigns of life back from fate's hands , and a deep longing for family that may never be quenched . 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗦 𝗔𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗.
❝ everyone wants a rock bottom. some icarus shit. but the truth is some holes keep going, yawning, heady, one mistake becomes three: there’s always a dark darker than the dark you know. ❞
I. INTRODUCTION.
name ― alistair pryde.
age ― 26.
species ― slayer / resurrected.
gender & pronouns ― cis man (he/him).
face claim ― damian hardung.
status ― taken.
II. DIGGING DEEPER.
halloween, 1990. you threw yourself into the gate. everyone called it a sacrifice, but to you, it was simply one life for your twin's. you crawled out of the void alone. hands and knees. no light, no voice, nothing reaching back. six years and no one came.
six years in that place hollowed you. the body went first. memory went next. then whatever lived underneath — the part that used to feel like you, that used to believe something, want something — that went too, and you didn't notice until one day you reached for it and found nothing there.
what came back wasn't what went in. you know that. you've made your peace with it, which is to say you've stopped looking. you walk magnolia creek now with a feral smile and eyes that dare anyone to start something. you're sharp where you used to be open and empty where you used to be full, and most days, that feels just fine.
someone wants to hand you another prophecy, but you know what prophecies cost. you've already paid, in the dark, alone, while everyone who called it a sacrifice went home and ate dinner and moved on. you paid and paid, and now you have nothing left.
lay you down on that altar again and you'll burn it to the ground. then the town with it. all the people who watched and called it noble and felt good about themselves. every last piece of it. magnolia creek put you in the ground once. you came back wrong and angry and completely alone, and the only thing that still surprises you is that you thought it would be different. you won't make that mistake twice.
III. CONNECTIONS.
the pyre ― you've never been able to stop loving them and you've never been able to get it right. too much of each other, always — too similar where it chafed and too different where it mattered. you went through the gate for them, fast and certain and alone, and you waited six years for them to come. they didn't. they kept the line instead, and you came back to find them still at it. still carrying the prophecy that put you in the ground. still being good in the way they've always been good, the way that used to make you feel like the wrong version of the two of you. you'd do it again. that's what you can't live with. that even now, even hollow, even wrong, you'd do it again.
the chain ― you used to be each other's in every way that mattered. before halloween, before the blood, before the gate, they were the person you'd have burned the world down beside, the one who knew you before the prophecy made you into something else. then you came back and their sibling didn't, and there's nothing else to say. you understand the way they look at you. you'd look at you the same way. what you can't say — what sits in you like something the void left behind — is that you're grieving too. not their sibling. them. the person they were before the loss made them into this. and you don't know how to say that to someone who has every reason to wish you hadn't come back at all.
the veil ― you built everything on being alone in it. the dark, the crawling, the six years of no light and no voice and nothing reaching back — yours, only yours, the one thing nobody could take or share. and then you find out they were dreaming it, watching from somewhere you couldn't see. the void. the crawling. everything you came back with that you've never said out loud. they saw all of it before you'd said a single word. what you can't get past is that the aloneness was the foundation. it was the one true thing. and now it isn't, quite, and you don't know what to do with the version of the story where you weren't as alone as you thought. you're trying not to look at it too hard.
the dark ― you're so tired of being looked at like something that needs fixing. the slayers, the ones who loved you before, all of them grieving who you used to be. and then there's them — nothing to fix, nothing to mourn, no version of you they're waiting to get back. they've been somewhere dark too. not your dark, not the same place, but the same quality of it, the same thing it takes from you when it's done. they know what comes back and what doesn't. you don't have to explain the sharp edges or pretend you're getting better. they're not waiting for better. just this. just you, exactly as wrong as the void made you, and them not flinching. you didn't know how much of yourself you were spending on bracing for the flinch until it stopped.
there was one voice that was the worst. she didn't speak often and she was less cruel than the others, but when she did come it cut the most. pain so sharp you felt as if you had form. where the others sculpted you into something you knew wasn't what was before, she took pieces of "before" away. you dreaded her voice coming the most and also hoped for it the most. she was your greatest pain and comfort… then she said something you knew was wrong. even in the anger and hatred that'd grown in you, you knew that your twin would never say something like that and mean it in the way the phantom did. your twin. you knew who you were again. what had happened. what was taken from you and how you were abandoned by those closest to you. you remembered you weren't just waiting, but crawling. and somehow, you'd finally crawled you're way out. a feral thing of half remembered things and twisted memories. you were a child of the void now.
congratulations, daiz! you have been accepted for the scythe as alistair pryde (damian hardung). wow, just wow! all the applications for the scythe were lovely, but you really understood the assignment. i don't think i've ever read an application this beautifully detailed, and i can tell from your application that you didn't even finish all the edits you wanted to do. in the end, what else can i say other than he's perfect? alistair is everything i imagined the scythe to be and then some, and my heart honestly broke into a million tiny pieces as i was reading his story. i try my best not to pick favorites, but the scythe and the pyre was probably the dynamic i was looking forward to exploring the most, and i'm so excited to be doing it with you! welcome to magnolia creek! please send in your account to the main within 48 hours or send in a message if you need more time. our full checklist can be found here.
✧ THE SCYTHE. DAMIAN HARDUNG. CIS MAN. HE/HIM. ⸻ can you feel it, ALISTAIR PRYDE? it’s starting again. something’s coming up the creek bed — and soon, there’ll be nowhere left to hide. but i can tell by your eyes, you’re not the running type. yeah, you’re too SENTIMENTAL and CRUEL for that, aren’t you? just about what i’d expect from a SLAYER. so you’ve been in magnolia creek about YOUR WHOLE LIFE now? word travels fast in a small, dying town like this — i hear you’re 26 years old and MOSTLY UNEMPLOYED, BUT WILL OCCASIONALLY PICK UP SHIFTS AS A BARTENDER & VOLUNTEER AT THE ANIMAL SHELTER. don’t think that’ll help much in a fight against the hunger, but at least you’ve got your DUAL KARAMBITS. that’s more than i can say for most. i’ve seen this cycle turn before, and i think i know how it ends. you think it’ll end DIFFERENTLY; THE PART OF YOU THAT USED TO BE FILLED WITH HOPE AND WAS LEFT EMPTY BY THE VOID SAYS NOTHING WILL CHANGE, BUT A BIGGER PART OF YOU, THE ONE THAT SURVIVED SIX YEARS ALONE AND PULLED ITSELF OUT FROM THE DARK, REFUSES TO LET THINGS END THE SAME? well. we’ll see. i’d love to be proven wrong in all this.
DISCLAIMER: his full app & bio is in his ELLIPSUS, the below is the minute details!!
✱ 〳THE ESSENTIALS
full name: alistair reed pryde
nicknames: ali ( pronounced: AL-ee, like alleycat; no longer goes by this, but was what he preferred to go by before the void because "alistair sounds too serious for a guy like him".), reed (another nickname he went by and no longer does).
age: twenty-six
gender & pronouns: cis man , he/him
species & power: slayer + sense manipulation
birthday: tbd
orientation: bisexual
language(s): english
hometown: magnolia creek.
residence: a single bed room at the blue moon motel.
occupation: though he's mostly unemployed, alistair occasionally picks up shifts as a bartender and volunteers at the local animal shelter to pay the bills.
often found at: blue moon motel, creek records, rusty nail, neon dreams arcade.
✱ 〳THE PERSONA
label(s): the scythe, the fallen soul, the dirtbag/the tempest.
zodiac: tbd sun, tbd moon, tbd rising
alignment: chaotic…evil? neutral?
character inspos: faith lehane (btvs), john murphy (the 100), jj (outerbanks), the old religion (florence and the machine), which witch (florence and the machine), caterpillars turning into butterflies (was a huge concept inspiration).
aesthetics/imagery: taking a punch with a feral smile— blood bright in your teeth, slinking into town with a grin half-stitched from charm and half from something darker, a secret desire to belong but feeling like you never will again— always on the outside looking in, a caterpillar in it's chrysalis— digesting itself so it can become a butterfly (caterpillars are phoenix's yall), seeking reassurance in the worst forms, staring someone directly in their eyes as you kiss another— cruelty or a challenge?, fucking around with the intention of finding out, the flames you've set being the only light in your eyes, cigarettes and a faulty lighter, late nights and early mornings.
positive traits: relentless, adaptable, loyal/protective (once loyalty has been earned), sentimental (which isn't exactly used positively anymore), passionate, decisive, perceptive.
negative traits: hypocritical, dishonest, hedonistic, vindictive/hostile, bitter, manipulative, self-destructive.
neutral traits: bold, rebellious, adventurous, sarcastic, obsessive, skeptical, can be surprisingly gentle (but absolutely doesn't want to be, it's only very rare sort of against his will occurrence).
likes: caterpillars & butterflies (he has a small collection of taxidermy butterflies), early mornings when the day is just beginning and seems like it'll never end, the color green is his favorite, he's a dog person, dancing while being intoxicated, playing chess to pass time (he's not good at it), marshmallows (he likes to double roast them, burning the skin peeling it off and then roasting the goo to be golden brown), swimming, ABBA, taunting/challenging/daring people into taking action, he has a big sweet tooth, the smell of dried scented roses, more tbd.
dislikes: eating most meats (he's primarily a vegetarian but does make an exception for bacon), complete silence, total darkness, assholes sitting on a high horse, food with too strong flavor (outside of sweets), strong smells (ie: cloying candles, thick overwhelming smells, etc), more tbd.
habits: counting to comfort himself (he did this to try and track time in the void and then to distract his mind), keeping all the lights on in his motel room/turning lights on in every room he enters even if it's not night yet, pulling at his hair when he's frustrated, hitting his head with a hand when super frustrated, always has music playing in his place to keep it from being too quiet, flicking his lighter open and close specifically to hear the click (he does this a lot), sometimes making odd random movements like twitching his shoulder, scratching ear, etc (this is him reacting to/trying to get rid of the phantom sensations his powers occasionally make him feel when he can't ignore it), occasionally talking to himself/responding to things no one has said (he mostly does this when he's alone, but sometimes he'll respond as if someone said something and they didn't; he be responding to phantoms).
skills & hobbies: running and/or talking walks at night until the sunrises, in conjunction with the previous he'll often take the dogs at the animal shelter for walks, reading books about butterflies, swimming even if the weather is a bit too cold, close combat, more tbd..
strengths: extremely determined / inhumanely relentless— giving up on his goals is not in his vocabulary (not always the best thing), good at telling people what they want to hear (or what they don't want to hear at all), extreme endurance— coupled with his relentlessness he has is capable of enduring a lot through sheer willpower (more accurately stubbornness), even if he doesn't do it anymore he's pretty good at comforting others.
pitfalls: the refusal to be vulnerable at every turn— even being vulnerable to himself is something he rarely allows (lying to himself and ignoring anything that doesn't fit this narrative he's constructed in himself), reckless behavior for the sake of recklessness and distraction from his internal or external problems, does not do well in total darkness, lashing out on those around him when he feels exposed (aka cant always take what he's dishing out; aka loser behavior), hostility in general.
fears: the dark; after being lost in the void for six years, the dark scares him— he's more volatile at night due to this though pitch black is the worst and makes him feel the most vulnerable and weak, sleeping is also a struggle because of this. that he's still in the void and that this is a hallucination taken one step further— he has moments on particularly bad days where he doubts what's real or not.
vices: smoking cigarettes, drinking alcohol, coffee, dulling his sense of pain & senses in general (senses specifically when the world feels too much; it's not easy adapting after living so long in the void), partaking in hedonistic activities (dancing, drinking, one night stands, saying amen before doing a line), always pushing people's buttons and trying to get a rise out of them— cruelty and pain (both caused and received) as punishment and personal reassurance.
mental insight: he's in a bad way, filled with bitterness, highly unresolved trauma, a big ol' dose of loneliness (even as he does the exact opposite to solve it), extreme anger that is heavily misplaced, but hey… he's hot… and well that's all he's got going for him, more elaboration in progress.
convictions: alistair is determined to do whatever is required to take back control of his life, and ultimately become someone he wants to be rather than what he's been turned into and what others want out of him; he thinks who he is now is fine, but doesn't believe he is free from the shackles of fate and its only when they've been destroyed that he can truly be his own person.
character themes: rebirth through self-destruction— sometimes you have to destroy what was to become something better like a caterpillar into a butterfly, attempting to overcome grief and trauma alone— failing to understand or acknowledge that it's only with others that you can move forward, anger as a coping mechanism for grief and fear, both of yourself and what is to come— lashing out at those who used to be closest to you because it's easier than grasping onto the love that's still there and being rejected, loss of identity and carving a new one out from your flesh and bone— unsure if this is who you want to be and unsure if you even care, emptiness as a tool for survival— knowing that to let yourself feel again would cause you to crumble, shame and shamelessness as conjoined emotions— desperation to not be judged while simultaneously daring someone to do so, taking your life by the reigns— wrenching it from the hands of fate and choosing your own; refusing to surrender, misplaced anger— taking shots at the easier targets instead of the one that's actually responsible, the thin line between medicine and poison— doing whatever it takes to never be hurt again, even when it causes more harm than good.
commonly known facts: something he's unable to hide is that he's still learning how to be in the world again; he struggles at times with things like reading, processing stimuli, or using his body in the way he intends; like a delay in his action at times (ie: eating with utensils at first was like "wait, what do i do with these again?"), more tbd.
✱ 〳THE PHYSICALITY
faceclaim: damian hardung ; height: 6'2" ; build: lean, tightly toned physique meant for extreme endurance, long arduous journeys, quick evasive movements and close combat ; hair: dirty blonde, wears it long on top and shorter on the sides; when he's being more deliberate about his bad behavior on any given day its more naturally, where as when he's simply having a bad day he wears it styled ; eyes: blue, there's a fiery passion in them that used to be vibrancy for life but has shifted into something dark and dangerous, a combination of come hither and beware; "abandon hope, ye who enter here." ; voice: there's always a daring tone to his voice, barbed and cynical some days and deceptively soft and crooning on others; not a high voice, but not super deep, somewhere in the middle and resonant. ; expression: before the void alistair used to smile all the time, goofy, teeth showing, genuine and warm; a lightness to it. he doesn't smile like that anymore, when he does it's closed lipped, closer to a smirk, never reaching his eyes for anything good or it's tainted by his pain; the closest his smile gets to before is a sharp smile that shows his teeth, hollow and vicious, a sign that he's ticked off or hurt (or both) and plans to get even ; dominant hand: right-handed (previously left-handed; but after being in the void so long he had to relearn what having a body meant and this was one of the little changes that happened) ; piercings: none. ; tattoo(s): none outside the slayer markings ; style: wip ; unique physical traits: he has burn scars on his arms and back, as well as the palm of his feet and legs which are the worst of the burns ; physical health: he's chronically tired from never sleeping but he pushes on anyways, coffee is a friend and food; while he does do party drugs i wouldn't say he's an addict, he does them when he goes out and while he goes out often he only takes them when offered he doesn't seek them out himself— he only actively seeks out alcohol and cigarettes.
✱ 〳THE FAMILY
MOTHER: TBD (deceased, slain by a vampire).
FATHER: TBD (deceased, died sometime after alistair went into the void).
SISTER: lily bridget pryde (twin, the pyre).
PETS: snickerdoodle (bernese mountain dog, technically not his pet, but his favorite dog at the shelter, whom he walks often.)
✱ 〳QUICK FIRE HISTORY (W.I.P.)
a very brief overview of his life up to when he crawled out of the void.
(when he was born)
(how he was viewed & how he reacted/dealt with it: too much not enough, finding hope/the bright side in whatever cards he was dealt)
(his awakening/the boating incident around 14-16)
(his time as a slayer 18-20)
(halloween night)
(his time in the void; broken down from first entrance, first hallucination, loss of body, loss of memory, hatred, remembrence)
(crawling out)
✱ 〳HEADCANONS (W.I.P.)
"I have long ago stopped walking on a road where my dreams walk around.
tw: brief mention of animal death
alistair never had big dreams growing up, the most he'd ever hoped for himself was to work at an animal shelter and work his way up to whatever up would be since he didn't think he'd be able to get into vet school. however, after his awakening and his power's development, he pushed himself harder to get into vet school. why? well, since his power was pain, he figured the one upside to being a slayer, was that he could help the animals that came into his imaginary vet clinic by easing their pain and heal them through his own effort since his ability didn't heal. or at the very least, if their time was up then at least they'd pass in comfort. he was ecstatic when he actually managed to get into the college's veterinary program despite his previous belief he wasn't good enough… too bad for him, two years later he went into the void and now he's exactly where he always thought he'd end up, albeit more of a choice on his part than inevitable. he volunteers at the shelter because being around the animals is something he genuinely enjoys and finds comfort in.
"after you, everything tastes like bruises.
alistair was not a vegetarian before the void, in fact he LOVED double patty hamburgers stuffed to the brim with grease and toppings, but after going a little crazy and with powers that occasionally turned your senses against you? meat can sometimes taste like rot, and the only one he's willing to risk it for is crispy crunchy bacon.
"love didn't ruin me. hope did. the kind that begged, maybe this time.
alistair doesn't have the greatest control over his abilities since they have changed, so occasionally it turns against him and he will hear voices, smell things, feel touches that aren't there, etc. sometimes they're comforting things like the feeling of a hug or words of love, which annoys him, or they're words of cruelty, reminders of his pain, which also annoys him. it's kinda like having a tattletale on your interior that only you can experience, which, again, annoys him because damn, can't a man lie to himself in peace? aside from the veil who knows because they would have seen this in their dreams, this is not something he has shared with anyone unless otherwise plotted, nor does he have any intention to share.
"and all my devotion turns violent.
before the void, alistair was a sentimental person; he was the type to remember what you said once and take it to heart— a mention of wanting a weird flavor cake, meant you would get it for your birthday, a random interest of yours something he would learn about; a compliment given to him never forgotten, emotions strong and constant; vibrant. after the void, he's still sentimental in a sense. he remembers things you say to use them against you or to his advantage, insults never forgotten. the trait didn't disappear in the void, it was twisted. he knows what to say or do to make someone upset just as much as he knows how to make someone happy. and in his own twisted way, this can still be used positively, even if it comes off as the opposite.
"you are haunted by memories that linger like a softly uttered curse.
when alistair came out of the void, he was wearing the same clothes he was wearing the night he went in six years ago. dirt scuffs, blood stains, tears in the cloth and all.
"i had a family once; it was warm.
growing up, the only people who didn't compare alistair to his sister, was their parents. coming from a long line of hunters & slayers on their father's side (whom left that life behind), the twins were raised in a happy and loving household, which is why he was able to not let these comparison's from others taint his their relationship as siblings.
"your throat is raw from screaming to a god who isn't listening.
alistair's motel room has a bunch of lamps all over the place because he felt the lights provided in the room were too dim for his comfort (because of his fear of the dark); they were among his first purchases after returning.
woman in the dunes directed by hiroshi teshigahara // abbey by mitski // invisible by husky // killer + the sound by phoebe bridgers, abby gundersen, noah gunderson // pippin directed by diane paulus // your throat is raw from screaming to a god who isn’t listening by milk & hemlock // image from pinterest // the old religion by florence + the machine // which witch by florence + the machine // image from pinterest // the last beautiful thing i saw is the thing that blinded me by paris paloma // image from pinterest // image from pinterest // ptolemaea by ethel cain // girl, interrupted directed by james mangold (gifs by @stars-bean) // cop car by mitski // you first by paramore // the story of a new name writen by elena ferrante.
