@seplchral - Tumblr Blog

#SEPLCHRAL : i have seen what the darkness does , say goodbye to who i was . i ain't never been away so long , don't look back , them days are gone . follow me into the endless night , i can bring your fears to life . meet me in the woods tonight . ───── as afflicted by day ( she / they ) for ops416 .

KONSTANTIN ‘ KOSTYA ’ IVANOV AMRANI , experiment handler for black veil .

YOO KISA , hunter / tracker for the miners .

[ NOTICE ] there will be triggering content in this blog , including but not limited to body horror , violence , mentions/depictions of war & war trauma.

#DNI IF NOT IN RP .

mudfought

𝟭𝟵:𝟬𝟬 , 𝗩𝗘𝗦𝗡𝗔 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 [ 𝖥𝖤𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖵𝖨𝖳𝖸 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖬𝖤𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖲 ] ──── kisa yoo ; @seplchral

when vanya was a boy, his mother would let him play helper in the kitchen. vesna night was a krovograd celebration that required lengthy preparation. sunlight had once poured through the windows in the shift from winter to spring, mornings spent baking honey cakes that his family and neighbors would scarf down in minutes. baked with love, warm and fresh out the oven.

sugar, butter, flour ──── all valuable contraband he has managed to swipe. vanya is no baker, and in the ruins [ walking hell ] of krovograd today, the maintenance of household tradition has slipped far beyond his fingers. but every year, he still tries to follow it with honor. the cake is cold, shielded in hard plastic; not meant to withstand the winter wind, baked with an unspoken grief. a barebones imitation of his mother’s recipe.

he spots kisa, and vanya wonders if she remembers the taste. if she can recall better vesna festivities; when the night roared without fear of soldiers and sicknesses and their religion walked with them still.

boots crunch against snow as he approaches, backs to building wall, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. the perfect worm's-eye view, he realizes, from her spot in the shadows consumed; the light of the bonfire unable to reach this corner of the world.

“there are better things to do than sulk tonight.” the hand with the honey cake container reaches out for her to take. “i won’t say it’s better than theirs,” a nod to the stalls selling. “but i can say it has more sugar. won't poison you.”

seplchral

the longer she stays in krovograd, the more comfortable she is in shadows. even on a night like this, kisa tucks herself into the quietest corner she can find, intent on getting through the hours barely being seen or heard. she could have stayed away, kept herself locked at home… but then if she missed anything, she'd regret it. now, though, she was regretting being here at all.

the festival felt like a waste. the constant chill in the air a warning to stay away. none of them listened, not even her. it had been so long since she'd celebrated vesna night, she almost felt like the outsiders that roamed their streets, half-lost and following the scent of food and drink like starving dogs.

and then vanya is there.

the snow foretold his arrival, but she looks anyway, just to make sure it's someone whose company she wants. there's snark on the tip of her tongue that she quiets, taking a honey cake. one bite, small, like she's afraid to indulge will bring about something terrible. there's a familiarity to the taste, reminder of childhood memories, almost enough to make her sentimental.

“not worried about you poisoning me. i figure you'd find a different way to get rid of me.” swallows as she speaks before nibbling at the edges of the cake. sugar was exactly what she needed: something to keep her alert, awake, alive. “and i'm not just sulking. i'm... keeping an eye out.” as if she could stop something terrible from happening by simply standing in the dark. “you should have taken up a stall with these. might have gotten more people to try them.”

#𝙺. 𝚈𝙾𝙾 interaction.#w. mudfought / vanya.

d3voured

> > 𝙴𝚇𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙳𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙻𝚂 ... 2000 hours @ town square, the old quarter, krovograd ... [ warning ... 0/3 others in line of sight ]

preparations for vesna night had started some three to four weeks ago ─ she had been walking through the square dressed as a civilian rather than an agent when one of the old women had beckoned her over with a wave of a wrinkled hand and mălina had been helpless to refuse the test run of honey cakes or the demand that she join the other women in the renactment on the night itself. ( you were a dancer, yes ? she had looked up, mouth full of black bread and churned butter, to nod. it seemed almost criminal to do anything else. good. we need someone strong to lift up daria here. yes ? her gaze drifted over the girl, taking in the sunken cheeks and feverish bright eyes, and knew there was no other answer except to nod again. ) if she had known that it involved costumes, years old expired concealer, old poster colors from a children's paint set and a mask that fitted oddly over her forehead, she might have put up more of a resistance, but the part had been played and her reward had been pressed into her palms, still warm from the fire. landing down with a heavy grunt onto one of the empty chairs situated in a half - circle around the bonfire, she dragged the mask over her head and pinched at the cake half - heartedly, though the first bite reminded her of the ones she had already tasted in the days leading up to it, burned or undercooked and shoved into the mouth to avoid wastage, and the memory served only to make her flinch away from the sweetness, holding out the treat to the person closest to her. ❝ ... here. i only pinched a bit off that corner. ❞ mălina looked a little green around the gills ─ the funny - smelling paint that had been streaked across her cheeks did little to help with her appearance. ❝ it feels wrong to just toss it, considering ... ❞ this was all some of them had. she swallowed around the honey - soaked cake and offered the other person a smile and a change in topic, hoping her words had not offered insult where there was none. ❝ i distinctly remember my father saying something about jumping over a bonfire once, but that could be another festival. do you think you could clear that ? ❞ chin lifted, pointing towards the crackling fire pit.

seplchral

there was a honey cake in his face.

tawny eyes glanced at the cake before turning to the person offering it. rare of someone to share so openly. kostya won't look a gift horse in the mouth, though, plucking the cake from her grip. after the long day he'd had, she could have offered dirt and he'd take it, if only to get his mind off of everything else. he pulled out the bit she'd taken from, throwing that in the fire ahead of them. she might have had qualms about throwing away food, but he didn't.

just in case, anyway. he didn't want to catch anything she might have.

“it's terrible. i can see why you wanted to toss it.” he ate the rest of it anyway. krovograd had been on a downwards spiral since he was sixteen, and he'd slipped down with it. a burnt cake was nothing. but then the other looked just a little sickly, so perhaps it was less the pastry and more her own stomach betraying her. if he were someone else, he might ask if she was alright. as it stood, he only studied her for a moment, before his attention turned to the bonfire.

a part of kostya wanted to jump it just to see if he could. spike of desirous adrenaline, calling him to make a bad decision. stayed in his seat by pure force of will. “if i try and don't clear it, i'll be embarrassed.”

#𝙺. 𝙸𝚅𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚅 𝙰𝙼𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙸 interaction.#w. d3voured / mălina.#this is terrible but... have him </3

d0gt7gs

he rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't stick. the moment he recognized him, a familiar annoyance coiled beneath his skin. in his gut. amrani. who else? of course, the pool of men like them had to be thinning out by now. the cockroaches beneath the rocks of earth's horrors, they have both survived more than their fair share. often spending the time they should have been trying to outsmart the other.

against what would have been better judgement, he holstered his weapon. vasco knew him. knew him a bit better than most of his team at the current moment. he knew he couldn't be trusted, but he also knew it was unlikely a shoot-out would benefit him. and as far as he knew, kostya didn't do anything that didn't benefit him.

“we should start getting matching keychains.” his voice was anything but friendly, and his eyes narrowed as he took the time to reclip his holster. vasco fought the urge to just walk away. maybe pretend like he hadn't seen him, like he didn't have to deal with this shit right now. but there was no avoiding it. kostya had always found ways to get under his skin, and even though he was clearly not in the mood for any of his antics, he couldn’t just ignore him. the man was here in front of him. of course, he was. “have a whole collection of the places we beat the fuck out of each other. it would be great!” sarcasm dripped from his voice. still, there was always a bit of a nagging feeling when they separated.

“thought we really got you last time. what was it? using active combat zones on catalina island to smuggle guns?" he remembered, because of course he fucking did. vasco stuck his hands into the sides of his vest to keep them warm. “i shot you, didn't i? how did you get treatment? i had a medic on hand and still almost died from where you got me.” loathe as he was to admit it, kostya was one of the only people he's seen bring a knife to a gun fight and nearly win. he's got a nasty scar right in between his ribs to prove it.

seplchral

vasco wasn't in the mood for him and neither was kostya. krovograd was not a place where the words peace and quiet meant anything, but he was still distraught at being unable to find any. or as distraught as someone like kostya could be, which meant not very: only the gnashing of his molars betrays the depths of annoyance. he had always been reckless, and seeing the other only reminds him of just how much. fair share of scars brought on by one another feeling like they itch when faced with the one responsible.

“haven't beat the fuck out of each other here.” the yet was unspoken. he was quite sure shit would hit the fan one of these days because it always did — risks of the business. the moment the bsaa had stepped foot into krovograd, the space had become a ticking time bomb. karsov was lucky that this was his home and that he was loyal enough to stay, because if it were anywhere else and anyone else who'd recruited him, he'd already be looking for a way to cut his losses. “can't, because of the festival. we'll schedule a better time.”

his own eyes rolled at the reminder. a terrible mission: everything had been going great until it hadn't, kostya rewarded with nothing but a bullet in return for hard work. “come on. you know i can walk off anything.” one of his many, many near-deaths. he fashioned himself a hydra. you cut off one head, six more grew back — through nothing but dumb luck and the smallest amount of skill, konstantin had made himself difficult to kill. eternally frustrating for those who wanted him dead. the list was long and could only be growing.

“we'll call it even. i left you with something to remember me by, you left me with a bullet to the chest — you missed anything vital, by the way. your aim's shit.” untrue. if anyone could have him fearing for his life, it was vasco. right now, though, he'd let himself gloat. “never expected to see you here, of all places. are they paying you extra?”

#𝙺. 𝙸𝚅𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚅 𝙰𝙼𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙸 interaction.#w. d0gt7gs / vasco.

unnatvrals

time: around 2300 hours ( 11 PM ). location: the woods ( stupidly ). status: for konstantin ivanov amrani ( @seplchral )

nina is not unaware of the rumours that circulate around her newfound home ( there is a familiarity to it that troubles nina, much like every familiar things does ⸻ it makes a home inside a mind that does not know what to do with it ). they are like a currency that no one wants to hold onto for too long should the weight of it start to hinder those that have it. before too long, she is ignoring them. at least, that's what she tells herself when she feels an overwhelming need to get the hell away from the bonfire, the stalls, the people ⸻ everything.

once again, her feet find themselves in the woods. nina knows it's a stupid decision; it's dangerous and she could get hurt, even killed. and what would be lost, truly? a woman that doesn't know who she is, where she belongs to. so, she simply walks and walks and walks, a rock in her right hand she can throw if something ⸻ or someone ⸻ gets too close for comfort. the silence of the woods gets interrupted by footsteps behind her, a twig breaking and causing her head to snap back and her arm to raise, ready to aim and throw.

nina holds it. just long enough to see who it is and realise he's not an immediate threat. not one of those that fill the rumours of the night, just a human that she could possibly take care of if need be. "what the fuck?!" she hisses, eyebrows furrowed. her arm doesn't lower, not yet. "do you always follow people into the woods?"

seplchral

konstantin should not be in these fucking woods, he knows that much. there was a part of him that almost thought he might be able to get away and enjoy the festival for an hour or two before slipping back into the shadows, away to his post. instead his time is cut short by orders, forcing him away from any semblance of a good time, patrolling for infected — karsov had him made into something of a cain figure, the afflicted his abel. am i the infected's keeper?

yes, unfortunately, he was. in his quiet complaints, he doesn't notice his step slipping, a twig snapping under his boots. he cursed, glanced around — saw her. let it be known that konstantin fashions himself to be a living weapon. he was all sharp edges, a man made to be cut on: he did not care for people. he barely had friends. his loyalty was to karsov only because the other had saved him when no one else would.

there was a time when the only exception had been her. now she aimed a rock at him. that was the least of what he deserved after what he'd been witness to… but he would never admit it. she made it difficult to think properly. he had a job to do.

“i was not following you.” the insinuation would almost offend him, if it didn't make complete sense. “is that all you've got? a rock?” offered nothing but an unimpressed glance toward the makeshift weapon. he'd had worse injuries, littering of scars all throughout his body to prove it. some of those scars were shared between them. again: not something he would think of. he'd given up sentimentality a long time ago.

“run back to wherever it is you've been hiding. i don't have time for your mind games right now.” the one where she insisted on bringing up their past and he pretended he didn't know her. “this is the last place you should be.”

#w. painborn / nina.#𝙺. 𝙸𝚅𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚅 𝙰𝙼𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙸 interaction.#i did in fact start yapping </3

[ EXT, town square. 1700 HOURS, because early bird gets the worm. seeking the company of @painborn ]

delicate hand gripped nina's arm with shocking strength, chipped nails threatening to cut through fabric and dig into skin if they were only sharper. little made kisa nervous these days. she was the antithesis of nervous energy: all sharp calm, slow words, piercing gaze. the festival has a way of bringing her back to being a child, though, grabbing onto her mother's hand like she would disappear if she let go only for a second.

replace her mother with nina. she's got the poor girl in a death snare, pressing tight against her side, watching as everyone finished setting up. kisa imagined a thousand and one awful scenarios — it was the attempt at hope in the air that unsettled her. tentative but sparking, threatening to burst into a flame if everything went well, even with the winter. even with the whispers of horrors. the last thing krovograd needed was hope. nihilism was her closest friend. she would hold onto it until krovograd either split apart or miraculously bloomed despite adversity.

that, she highly doubted would happen.

“is it wrong of me to think something's got to go to hell?” kept her tone quiet. intended and received only by nina's ears. “or am i only inviting the bad to happen if i think that way?”

#𝙺. 𝚈𝙾𝙾 interaction.#W. painborn / nina.

d0gt7gs

𝙶𝚁𝙸𝙳 entrance to the metro, krovograd. 1400 hours. 42.244302 50.345243. 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙻 lt. vasconcelos & anyone. (1/5)

with his eyes and his rifle trained on the dark, vasco stood at a crater of collapsed cement and ground. they were all assigned closer to the main settlement today, but it didn't start for hours, and he'd seen the collapse from his blind and needed to get a closer look. he tapped his foot to the fragile edge and watched as the bit of pavement he'd shaken loose rolled down the definite ramp the earth had somehow formed. so, not a sinkhole then. an entrance.

if he were a local desperate, hunted this would be the kind of place he’d run to. but the faint sound of scraping from below told him the paper skins would think the same. he reached for his chest rig and waited for the sound of his radio crackling to life. “bravo-07 to base, marking point of interest. possible metro entrance, roughly 4 klicks north of bunny hole two. standing by for orders. over.” vasco kicked another rock down the sloping abyss as he waited.

his radio cracked again before a voice came through: “copy that, bravo-07. do not engage alone. return to post. over and out.” vasco scoffed, but flicked the safety of his rifle on and spun it around to rest down his back. but it seemed that whatever was watching him didn't expect him to turn. he caught the flash of boots disappear behind debris about ten feet away from the collapse, and unholstered the pistol from his leg. hiding isn't normally an infected activity, so the pistol was precautionary.

“woah, woah.” he edged farther from the collapsed entrance, peering around the jagged concrete slab where the shadow had vanished. the air was stale, thick with dust and something faintly metallic. blood, maybe. silence. then the flutter of movement, and a breath that wasn't his finally releasing. like they had been holding it but it finally slipped out. human, atleast. but everyone's supposed to be preparing. “identify yourself.”

seplchral

sometimes, he needed to clear his head. even the most loyal dog required a break from hunting. to do the work konstantin did meant grit — the things he saw daily were things some people couldn't handle once. on the few occasions where his hands trembled and he felt his resolve shaking, he'd walk. best way to clear his mind. except now the bsaa was sniffing around the city, closing in on black veil. no better proof of their stain on the city than now — his steps uncovered, a pistol pointed at him, and thank everything that he'd switched to civilian clothes.

the voice ordering him to identify himself registered as familiar.

kostya had never quite been on the right side of things. here was one of his old nuisances: shared missions on opposite sides, one always trying to take down the other. of course he would be here. just his luck. playing along, he raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. wolfish grin on his face betrayed that attempt. even with the danger of possibly being caught, he wanted to get under vasco's skin.

“where's the fun in that? you know me, anyway.” arms lowered, he gestured at his attire. “you've caught me at a bad time. it's vesna night. don't even have a gun to match.”

true enough, even if he had the soft weight of a knife in his boot. a fight wasn't what he wanted right now — not like that, at least. “no evildoing here. you can head straight back to wherever it is you crawled out.”

#𝙺. 𝙸𝚅𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚅 𝙰𝙼𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙸 interaction.#W. d0gt7gs / vasco.

brav6

› 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝙾𝚇 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂 : open ( temp no cap ) 𝙰𝚁𝙴𝙰 𝙾𝙵 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 : vesna night 𝙶𝚁𝙸𝙳 𝚁𝙴𝙵 : 23T WP 1938 7462 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 : 22:13 ZULU ( 10:13 PM LOCAL )

🗒️ ✱ ﹕ㅤ 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲 , 𝗴𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 lantern light and laughter — the kind that felt just a little too loud , like everyone was trying to drink , dance , and fuck their worries away before the world came crumbling down again. vesna night. hell of a way to pretend things weren’t going to shit. and cooper ? well , he was more than happy to play along.

leaning against a half - crumbling brick wall , pint in one hand , cigar in the other , he looked like he belonged there— half in the shadows , watching the world go by. the flickering candlelight caught the sharp angles of his face , the scar just under his eye , the lazy smirk that never quite left his lips. his dog tags glinted when he tilted his head , eyeing his newest source of entertainment.

" y’know , " he started , mancunian drawl slow and lazy, " for a night that's supposed to keep the bad spirits away , you lot aren’t doin’ a very good job. can’t decide if you look like trouble or if i just fancy the idea of findin’ out. "

he took a slow drag of his cigar , let the smoke curl from his mouth , then exhaled through his nose , watching it drift into the night air.

" read somewhere that festivals like this used to be about new beginnings , all that hopeful shite. sounds nice , don’t it ? ‘cept here we are , drinkin’ like it’s the end of the bloody world. "

a slow sip of his pint. a flick of his cigar , embers sparking in the dark. he knocked his knuckles against the wooden bar , signaling for another drink — not that he was in any rush. then , his gaze slid back , sharp and just a little too amused.

“ so what’s it gonna be , then ? you sittin’ here to wallow , or you plannin’ to make this night worth rememberin’ ? ” a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips , just enough to make it unclear whether he was joking or not. " go on , love , " he gestured vaguely with his cigar , " surprise me. "

seplchral

vesna night.

to pretend nothing was happening was, in kisa's eyes, a betrayal. saccharine lies were still lies, rotting sweetly in the mouth of krovograd, and she would not let herself fall for them. she could not. roaming the festival did nothing but remind her of the danger they were all in.

perhaps the worst of it was the bsaa. it was an unfair judgement that she imposed on them, and still she judged. here for good, they say, but she hadn't seen anything good come from their arrival. how unfortunate that she catches the eye of one of them — she knew them faintly, by look and not by name or code. it was a stubborn insistence on her part, to defamiliarize them. mark them strangers. outsiders. she forgets she left krovograd, that she returned as an outsider, because the years spent here since have made her bleed local.

he speaks! click of her tongue, hand batting away the smoke in the air. she doesn't want to speak to him, the fuck off weighing heavy just behind her teeth. she quelled the urge. tells herself to be good. “do you always just… open your mouth and spew bullshit?”

perhaps not too good. amusement from him was matched with a glare from her. there was no drink in her hand even as she longed for one, hoping it might make the conversation easier. “i don't wallow.” if only it were true. all she did was wallow, these days: she was a ghost, a specter, the wailing banshee of krovograd. she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that. stubborn, decisive, a line drawn in the sand between her and the operatives.

“but i also don't entertain.” her mouth twisted, settling somewhere between a frown and a snarl. “find your amusement for the night somewhere else.” three beats of silence. just enough to where he might begin to answer before the silence was broken by her once again. “and never call me that again if you know what's good for you.”

#𝙺. 𝚈𝙾𝙾 interaction.#W. brav6 / cooper.#she can't fight at all don't mind her