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@sidesofmysteries
Lord of the Mysteries multi muse, slow activity but written by nugget.
30 years of age and getting emotional pain the longer this read goes on. crossover friendly. mutuals only.
Some themes of LOTM- Outer gods mention, magic, body horror.
Here to have fun.
STARTER CALL.
STARTER CALL.
Amyrius Rieveldt
british.
Internally, as much he teased a helping hand he will give regardless, there was consideration if this would be one of these cases in which Mr.Holmes will take care of --- it seemed completely appropriate for his job, and it would be merely an opportunity excuse for them to crossing paths … as regardless, the Lord of Crime name would have no reason to showing up within the affair. In all cases, restraint would remaining necessary for avoiding attracting gaze towards sharpest of a mind in which recognition has been mainly made already: backstage stayed Albert playground. Easiness of unmoving features showed there was still a habit coming from that kind of scene, in which closing room feature was mostly in which his attention was focused on. He smiled about notion of evidences. It was holding inside one single name, one tiny name in which oppressing aura of it would be an asset on itself, but yet, as a single math professor, he shouldn’t be one remembering Mycroft Holmes to common people. Of course, the other man would be inclined to ensuring he won’t mess around with the crime scene, as he would need to remaining still when the police will come, however, there was no physical evidence to show about whenever connection he might have. It was a controlled confession of his part.
Mycroft, when realization his name could have slipped up for be associated to something in which he had no knowledge of, will be forced to be an obedient puppy for avoid the Lord of Crime to be inclined to more vicious manipulations. Friendly smile exposed as he showed only identification he has: his position as a math professor at Durham, in which the association of William Moriarty, if it’s reached common people, even a little, must giving him an idea about who he was. ❝ I’m afraid I don’t have evidences for my words, unless if Mr.Holmes himself inclining himself to exposing one clue about it. Here. I’m a humble professor with a reputation. Family name must be comforting if you ever heard about us or if that name echoed somewhere. ❞ Meanwhile speaking, his gaze watched towards his, noticing same bloody mouses going inside an entrance, captivating him with curiosity.
"..."
The face of a lower class person who is trying their best to remain polite but absolutely have no idea on what the other is talking about.
"...I'm afraid I am too busy with work to keep up with such ... prestigious names." In the future he would be a wonderful finance manager, for a whole country even. but for now he's a humble dock worker who has to keep the numbers up and make sure no one dies.
"Perhaps we should wait for a officer of the law to confirm your identity before you proceed?" He says, being polite about it right now.
He stands in front of the door now leading to the body.
A simple conversation, it has been what he has been attempting. Not something extraordinary, not something that seemed impossible to have, he sensed how immediately his body reacted with discomposure … Not matter how much he had wanted to destroying a mirror in which he was training himself with for playing his role, be able to associated two emotions together, to standing himself when other reactions wanted to betraying his expression, he cannot hold back how naturally his body wanted to react. If his face decomposed now, he will stop caring, stop even attempting, stop trying --- the point was already lost a long time ago, but there was a necessity nevertheless to keep up appearances at least temporary for feeling he was belonging somewhere inside that human sphere unwanting him …
Emptiness passed though ocean eyes, searching to digesting the shock he just took. The play must carry on, as his illusions (fated to break anyways) needed to standing for yet couple of minutes. Once he will be settling down within obscurity of his observing location, he would let whatever interest he might have disappear … if there was no Phantomhive for distracting him and remembering him to behaving a little. He forced a smile in which an effort to turn it amused instead to crumbling at the second. ❝ The parties or the drinks? ❞ He asked with same innocent smile. ❝ Isn’t the point for doing relationship when it’s concerning the first one? Wouldn’t be more appropriate locations outside the party for the second? Besides, won’t the faces becoming more clearer as you see them again and again along these places? ❞ There was a moment of silence. ❝ It’s just a remark. It’s not a lecture. I don’t think the Trancy Earl is an example of good manners… Are you being expecting something by coming there? You’re seeming terribly disappointed, and I can recognize that ~terrible~ letdown! ❞ He attempted another time with excitement inside his voice, showing it by rising his hands on the air. Part of him still doesn’t understand it. Part of him will be unable to be treated that way for the rest of his existence. Why? Why he was always mistreated? Why he never received one fragment of tenderness from the outside world while his metaphoric twin trapped inside darkness had known support and to be loved, so dearly loved, meanwhile he was struggling for get both of it?
There was another silence concerning his last question. As the Spider’s Queen, theoretically, the rest of the British noblesse society were the flies attached to his web … but he was far to be as competent and fearless than his metaphoric twin, that always did that job for him behind his back even since the beginning, even before he ever dared realization how huge that web was. His mental state hadn’t been best, so outside the Vessalius because there was another blonde boy to adore when he was around, and the Phantomhive for be personally biased, he forgets the reminder lessons about importance of others families, and will be a horrible disaster to ever remembering their name. If before he showed no real care about it since he wanted passing his entire time having fun without caring about one degree of responsibilities under his hands … ah, yes, too bad he couldn’t dream on that anymore to even less care about it anymore. ❝ Maaaaybe~ ❞ He expressed with playfulness. That guest didn’t seem happy to be here, as he might be surprised, they were in same boat, but there was uncertainty about even expressing that in front of another noble --- since trust was almost inexistent. Dramatically, he learned his lessons about how he often ended up with terrible men, horrible people despite having asking nothing of the sort. Making it twice more complicated to requesting some information about the occult when he was scared to end up hurt again by some assholes present within the noblesse sphere … ❝ Oooh. This is making me wonder. I ended up presenting myself, but can I have your name or title, for have a idea of who you are? ❞
There was far too much emotions happening in front of him. Of course as someone who was at the forefront of war and fights, he is used to the smell and scene of dying. sometimes it took going to the front lines for anything to be done, after all the war never stops until actions were taken with precise precision. And love was never made unless one started on it. It was the best, and worst he could have done allowing a mistress when he was still a mere mortal. And now...
in any case.
"Admiral Amyrius Rieveldt, of her majesty navy." it was perhaps wrong of him to be here, when there was too much work to be done. But this party was a intense favor in order to gain more funds, as the queen said.
Make some friends, for god sake your a utter bore.
His eyes turn to the wine glass, feeling nothing from having at least seven cups from it.
"I will soon take leave of this place. If you need, I can order my carriage to bring you home as well. I know the face of someone who dislikes these social gatherings." It was a offer made with utter bluntness, like a hammer on fine china. It had no misguided meaning, he just felt sorry for the other since he would assume that this one was alone. But that it.
He just wanted to get out of here.
He spots another party guest and uses a bit of his magic to make them move elsewhere, lest they approach him. One person was enough for his social que to last.
Amusement pictured within crimson eyes. ❝ Are you thinking that the murderer would let a note if this wasn’t a suicide coming from the unfortunate victim? An investigation would be useless if this would have been the case, if this was something made willingly by the victim --- but an accident, maybe it can be the case. ❞ Words escaped him. Daily frustration not to have bright spirits such as Sherlock Holmes around him emerged inside uncanny opportunities, as there were still that tiniest people someone else would attracting his interest as much as him … though, it seemed a quest he didn’t even actively carried away, expecting to be surprised eventually by another mind. A kind of displeasure and amusement still emerged coming from circumstances that happened. A murder inside what could be considered as a closed room meant an opportunity not to left whatever remaining tracks, and left Sherlock with a simple disappearance. James Moriarty didn’t brother himself about the murdering of single common people who were reasons of desired change for the society, and it was unlucky, unless his presence, there was another corrupted noble … though, it this can lead to another name to erase …. ❝ Knowing that I’m affiliate with the government can reassuring your anxious mind? ❞ He bounced back with a vivid smile, as he would playing with that asset card. He hadn’t been recognized, hence accepted some seconds for him to looking at him. ❝ Don't worry, the police know me well. They will certainly take into account any information I might pass along. A private detective might even show up, maybe. ❞
Of course he is nervous, it is the livelihood of many people on the line if this whole case was not solved. After all there was so much things to be done and with the body still under investigation, the people could not work. It was harsh to say, and ...
"Do you have identification to verify your claims, good sir?"
Of course, for someone like Benson, every avenue must be approached. Though his eyes look to the sides for a bit, seeing tiny mouses entering holes.
Were his eyes playing him, or was there a bit too much blood on those mouses?
There was consciousness, even since what happened, last place he ever wanted to be was a damn party in which he would have to carry on a comedy he feels no pleasure. It wasn’t exactly as he had a choice, or expected something coming out to perceiving one more that wide British society in which he lost complete disinterest by now. There were no illusions neither he wouldn’t find that person that he wanted to meet --- as much Lelouch used that method for moulding himself inside circumstances, he would be truly an coincidence if that face showing up randomly, while mister had some emotional recovery to do before he cannot handle the fuckery he imposed towards his face … Compared to Phantomhive that was really irritated by what they had discovering of him indirectly under his layers of his manipulative layers inside many sublayers, in which his beloved throne of king has been stolen by an Emperor, he remained emotionally compromised. Still embraced within hatred about what happened, about that sensation he was still worthing nothing compared to his metaphoric twin, and yet, partially grateful nevertheless an attempt has been made for save his life (which was mostly a fight between him and his metaphoric twin) and eager to been able to get information of newest confirmed witchy Terror for honouring name he had --- Between Lelouch and Philip Butler, he would preferring take one confirmed asshole having at least an remnant of an heart and at least an sensation to be secure inside his own world (regardless returned hatred) than some clear asshole that can destroy him anytime he wanted if he wasn't careful with that fire.
Inside comforting spot of darkness, he had remaining, as his mere motivation remained still what dear Phantomhive might be doing since him clinging towards previous normality best he could and pretending nothing happened, he merely has been witnessing various guests. Searching whatever thing that can attracting his interest, turn that social torture inside an easy one, or catch up something unexpected … Apparently, he wasn’t the one that was at top of boredom to be here, though he hesitated for a long moment for saying hi. Trancy’s boy was enough recognizable for knowing his appearances weren’t clearly what people appreciated. Afterwards oceanic eyes taking sweet time to merely watching, he decided to bring his blonde face nearest him. It was weird. He was giving him an impression of familiarity, as with some red colour within his hair, he would have the appearance of someone he might know from somewhere, althought not in this particular life …
❝ Treating a party like a free drinking pleasure? ❞ He noted with an innocent smile. ❝ It’s a lot of glasses that you fulfilled yourself with. ❞ For some reason, impression he received back from him was just … weird. It was so strange he barley knew how to handling such conclusions he immediately have, as he wasn’t as talented as his metaphoric twin to dealing with the whole side of immensity from these higher dimensional spheres … since he never perceived an golden butterfly outside that sealed second manor … since he never had sensation to feel the God of the Underworld behind his back … since he never has been welcomed with permanent painting of the Golden Witch inside this manor since it was strangeness of the second… since usually he remained always pushed away of all these interesting things. Ocean eyes, showing clearly silly childness, witnessing him with surprise, knowing he was twisting innocence for looking at his most cute. ❝ Feeling bored? ❞
The way to becoming a demigod of Law was that you must kill, and kill equally the strong for materials were limited and he had been long a demigod , his life span expanded to almost immortal at this stage. And even further, he can lose his own humanity for the sake of becoming what people would call a true god. But he has enough humanity to understand that it is not ideal, for power is gained through sacrifice.
Still, this amount of humanity was enough that he had to question why he even came. A young being came before him, beautiful in nature and appearance. It was the kind of appearance who he would start questioning the child parents if he were not so misunderstood of the situation.
"Live through enough of these, and all the faces start to blue."
he says, rudely. at least rude to the other nobles for there was really no one of interest, no one practicing magic at the moment within this whole household. The food was somewhat subpar and the host didn't know how to appreciate good wine. So used to grabbing the most expensive item on the shelf and presenting it as if they had taste.
"Are you related to the host?"
@lightcreators
"Oh my, you look like a man who knows what they are doing. Don't let me be a bother, its simply church business." Deacon Crestet Cesimir personality was too casual for someone who was stepping into a murder scene. Footsteps purposely avoiding the bloody puddles.
He's just here to see i there was magic involved, with how sheer brutality the whole scenario was, blood and guts exploding everywhere. Hopefully it was a bad case of medicine rather then anything the church should be dealing with.
"There is really nothing of note within the warehouse, Truly..." As a manager of a shipment company, it fell on him to do the bare minumun of requirements, safety and everything. Sure a murder had happened while everyone was asleep, their unfortunate loading warehouse a victim of poor spacing.
Benson is more worried about his job, then worrying about the murder in all honesty.
"Pardon me, are you with the police?"
@lightcreators
Amyrius Rieveldt
@lightcreators
Admiral Amyrius Rieveldt , master of law magic. Almost demigod of the binding light that puts laws together is not exactly the most observant kind of man when it comes to civilians. After all his efficienty only matters in terms of war and soldiering. civilians were a different breed that he hardly knew what to do with.
So being in a fancy party hosted by some unknown noble family felt like a waste of time. But he was here mostly as a accompanied guest of a guest, a tag along more then an actual guest. He smiled when greeted, greeted when smiled. And yet...
And yet...
He didn't know anyone here.
So awkwardly he stood, the admiral demi god who stood near the buffet table with his 7th glass of wine. Hardly even approaching drunk.
What a troublesome thing.
@lightcreators
The rich of London had the oddest of things. For example having someone so young be the head of households, if anything it showed the sheer disparity between classes. But as a regular worker, what can he do when such is his lot in life.
"Pardon me, milord. This is the most recent shipment of Funtom products for your purview."
Benson Moretti was not exactly the most educated out of the batch, but he spoke the closest to a lord in how polite and well mannered he is , despite his incomplete education. Hence his more managerial position within the shipping company.
"Would you kindly sign here to confirm that you receive the shipment?"
STARTER CALL.
Bread.
STARTER CALL.
