silence

I enjoy graveyards. I enjoy the cold touch of quiet they provide. I enjoy the cold touch of death. [independent roleplay blog for pre-Blackest Night William Hand.]

[fangedfirecracker]

     Her one hand had long since abandoned the collar of his shirt, choosing to wrap around him so he couldn’t squirm away from her. Eyes half-lidded had gone completely black before they closed once again against the sensation of warm blood straight from the source. The monster had silenced the girl in her own mind, instead replacing any rational thought with a desire to drink deeper. Something about the way a person squirmed in her grasp as the life left them made her feel powerful.

     This one was different from others, though. He welcomed it, wanted the sensation of life being pulled from him in a slow fashion, the feeling of numbness contrasting against the sharp pain one felt in their throat from fangs that tear flesh and muscle to get at their very source of life itself.

     He thought this was an act of love, of mercy, to relieve him from this place, when really it was her own cruelty, the side of herself she fought so hard to lock away and keep down pushing and pushing at her until it finally clawed its way to the surface. There was no love here, even as he grasped at her shirt, not unlike a lover would. She did not know him and beyond the initial impression, didn’t care to. Teeth dug deeper into the flesh, causing more blood to flow, as her grasp on him tightened. She was practically leaning over the taller man now, having dipped him back enough to make feeding easier.

     Almost, almost, he was fading faster now and she could tell there wasn’t much more he could give her. A cross between a growl and a moan escaped her mouth that had pressed hard against the wound. Even with the monster in control, there was at least a small part of herself that reminded her he had this coming. He had it coming.

                                                                               He had…

[skxllfucker]

                                       He had this coming to him, he deserved it.

     He deserved death's embrace.

     Selfish thoughts clouding his very quickly fading mind, all sorts of things bubbling up. The hurt and betrayal to be denied of her so many times, how he had been good, he had dedicated her life to her, he had loved her, loved so many of those who she had embraced and had viewed worthy over him. Who had not even worshipped her as he did!! So many times did she turn away and leave him, too warm and too full of life and too full of this sadness he could not abandon for she would not let him. She would not give him peace.

     Why had she avoided him for so long?

     Why would she not answer his questions?

               He was so happy and content in her embrace.

     But selfish.

     Why now? Why did it take so long? Tears fell from his eyes, vision blackening out. His body numb. He felt cold, so cold, it was so wonderful, he was so happy-- why did she rob him of such a feeling for so long? Why? Oh, why, death, why, I love you, thank you, but why doom me to so many years--

     Black bubbled on the surface of his fluttering eyes, barely caught in his long lashes, rotten and thick and crawling-- only to be kept in as they shut.

     As he fell limp in her arms.

[bittercartoon]

[slaughterhousegargan-blog]

Would anger be considered negative?

[skxllfucker]

Ah. Yes. Yes it would.

[slaughterhousegargan-blog]

So you’re like always positive and shit?

[skxllfucker]

No-- no. I'm comfortable with neutrality, I suppose. I don't react well to negative feelings. Positivity does not quite enter the picture.

[slaughterhousegargan-blog]

Y’ever try and catch something but you can’t catch it and you get really, really mad?

[skxllfucker]

In... in a sense, I suppose? I do not usually get angry. I-I don't like negative feelings like that.

[randallflagg666]

[fangedfirecracker]

     Eyes swirled with blacks warring against reds as she observed him, but there were no pupils anymore. Just the darkness edging in on the glowing embers that even her bangs couldn’t obscure. Those terrible eyes that soaked in the torment on his features before following the veins on his face down to his neck and resting upon the jugular there. How they appreciated the way the vein hummed its song at her. She almost didn’t hear him breathing. His heart was the only sound.

     "Don’t cry," she whispered, her comforting tone belying a more sinister motive, "it’s unbecoming."

     There was a slight tug of her hand, fingers elongating just so much that she could grasp the entire back of his skull with just the one hand. "Grateful." She repeated in a detached tone before pulling him up off the ground. “You’re grateful.” It’d almost be no fun if they were all this willing. How sad it was that the protests were no longer audible, crushed in the darkness and silenced for the time being. The creep wanted to die, and if he was what she suspected, then he damn well deserved it. Holding him close against her, she ducked her head down to press cold lips to the skin over the vein. "I’m sure hell has a seat waiting for you." 

     Lips peeled back and teeth brushed against the skin as she opened her mouth before biting back down, razor fangs slipping into the flesh to find the sweet spot that would deliver what she wanted. If she knew better, it certainly wasn’t showing as the blood flowed freely and generously into her mouth, flooding her senses with the sweet, coppery sensation. It wasn’t the blood that was the only part she faced an addiction to, it was the process of feeding. The feeling of it, feeling them struggle in her grasp, feeling the life slowly drain from them before they went limp in her arms. It felt good. And she was terrified to admit it to herself to the point that not even she realized it was legitimately a problem. So she drank deep, any good conscience she had silenced by the justification that the fucker had it coming.

     And justification felt amazing.

[skxllfucker]

     William squirreled in her arms. Fingers grasping at the back of her shirt as he embraced her, all sorts of gasps and gurgles caught in his throat. Only thing managing to escape the clutter of sounds was a wheeze. Air leaving a balloon. Long lashes fluttering frantically over black pits of pupils, irises, eyes brimming with tears.

     The sensation of Death's arms curling around him, drawing him deeper into the frigid temperatures enveloping him, leaping off her skin. And that slightest of moment-- as the teeth sunk into him. The pain sending shivers up his spine, the sensation crawling up every single piece of him. He'd shutter, if he was able, at how arousing it was.

     And then, oh and then, as it kept going. As the slightest of twitches and spasms over took his body and how she held him so tightly. Keeping him in place. Another gasp, fingers dragging down her shirt, digging into the folds. A heavy-- failed intake of breath, it was getting harder to breathe. The intimacy of this moment was astounding, more tears crawling down over the ridges of his cheek bones, the heat leaving his body, the numbness taking over.

     All that was left was to look up at the sky and wait for the stars to disappear. What an erotic way to die. Death truly must love him. She gave him such a gift, such a rush of excitement like he'd never felt, and to embrace him as she let him die slowly.

[xlydiadeetz]

     ”Yeah, it’s not that hard to miss.” But she still doesn’t want to tell him it’s her house. She doesn’t think her parents or the Maitlands would approve the man coming into their house. “But uhm…,” she gently takes the photo back. “I want it to be my secret for a little bit longer, okay? If you… don’t mind, that is.” 

[skxllfucker]

      His shoulders sunk as the photo slipped from his grip. Back into her very pale hands. Her pallor was something of a comfort. Not the horrid, flushed, chubby faces he'd usually have to endure of the younger folk. Eyes stayed on the photo and it was pulled to her body. Nodding absently to words he was not truly listening to. "I suppose... but would you mind if I saw them? Or. At least visited such a site. I-I'm sorry I just. Have not had fun in quite some time."

[xlydiadeetz]

    I wasn’t expecting anyone to barge in— 

[skxllfucker]

    Oh, um, is there a problem with it? Did I interrupt something? 

[fromthisabyss-deactivated201504]

[ he eyes the man . ]

        what is your work ?

[skxllfucker]

[ He quivered under the man's gaze, fumbling with his hands. ] I work at a funeral home, sir. Uptown.

[slaughterhousegargan-blog]

skxllfucker

[ he’s gonna’ want to boop that noise but he won’t bc he’s a good symbiote ]

[skxllfucker]

  [ He nearly jumps. ] O-oh! The alien. Hello, Mac. Where have you been?

[xlydiadeetz]

skxllfucker liked your photo

[skxllfucker]

   D-did I do something wrong?

[xlydiadeetz]

       His eagerness makes her smile. Most people just called her a freak and tossed the photos back at her or they would shred them in their petty anger. There’s another warning from the old ghost besides them that can see the Maitlands clear as day, “They uhm… live in a house near me. They were good people.” 

[skxllfucker]

     "A house close by to this area? I had no idea!" A small bounce as he nudged ever so closer to her. "Do you have more photos? Or an address? I mean no harm. I just enjoy these types of places, the hauntings." The unsettling air felt so good in his lungs, and it always sent the most erotic chill up his spine.

[fangedfirecracker]

     It felt like a lifetime, listening to his incessant rambling, prattling on and on about his love for who he thinks she is and the thought that killing him just to shut him up almost seemed worth it. But his words, what he had said about doing whatever Death said confirmed her suspicions. This guy, this bumbling idiot, was sounding like a serial killer.

     "You lonely little thing." She finally looked down at him once more, eyes wide as black flecks spotted over the corners of the terrible red hues. Reason was losing a battle against the monster who felt it had cause and a willing victim. "Why would I want love from someone like you?" No longer was she arguing with the title he was intent to give her. Somewhere in the cavern of her head there was a voice echoing for her to stop, to remember who she was, that she was the good guy.

     It was met with silence. 

     Instead, she released his wrist, her free hand moving to tangle fingers in his hair and pull his head back. His neck was right there, she could… she easily could… the fangs in her mouth ached for something to bite into. "You want death…?" No.

                                            “Fine, your funeral.”

[skxllfucker]

     If only could say his heart stopped in that moment from hearing those words. But it did break-- Death found nothing about him worthy. Nothing to want, nothing to need. No pity, even. But he loved her so, he did everything she asked. He only found solace in the dead and thought of death. Should she not already know this? Wasn't she always watching?

     Well, now it was apparent he was of no interest of her.

     A tear shed from his eye. 

     But then she asked and-- she did, she did feel sorry for him. Despite not being the most unwanted piece of living waste, she would take him. She would give him all he ever asked for, be taken away from all this. The red of her eyes was such a comfort-- the sting of his roots sung in pain, but now it was a good pain. "Oh, thank you. I'm so grateful. Thank you."

[fangedfirecracker]

     Don’t call me Death. She thought in her head, repeating it over and over and over until it became a mantra in her mind that she couldn’t shut off if she tried. And after a moment she did try. The mantra only served now to remind her what she revealed herself as. Not as an emissary of Death, not as a deliverer of it, but as Death itself. 

     She broke the gaze for a moment, skin tightening over her jaw once more as she clenched her teeth, closed her eyes, and strained her neck as she tilted her head back. She couldn’t look at him, at his pathetic pleading to her like a lovelorn poet who had been spurned by her before. But she did not know him, had never met him and he just caused that darkness in her to well up and threaten to spill over. There was a wince as she took her cheek in between her teeth to keep herself from doing something stupid.

     "Why? What do you think Death would offer you? There is nothing in it, it’s empty, void."

[skxllfucker]

       She was asking such strange things. Why would she hurl such empty, false statements back at him. When he was right here, giving himself to her and she would still not accept him! The smile was gone, he felt himself near tear up.

       "All I have ever had was you, Death. I have been chasing you, doing whatever you said, wherever you lead me. I have nothing but you. No one understands, t-they all reject me. Reject the love I have for you. Please." He begged with her, voice shaking. She even turned her face away from him. Was he so horrid that even now, when he was so willing, when she sought him out in this form, she would still leave him in the warm crowd of the living? To continue to experience the humid air, the bugs ruining the stillness of the night, the mindless masses that touch him and speak to him.

       "I love you, please, kill me. I have no one else but you. You lead me here, to you, I know it. You whispered at me, go, go to this woman. You're so cold. Please. Life is nothing in your shadow. I have been born only to meet you."

[fangedfirecracker]

     She feels something damn close to her heartbeat in her own throat. But that would be silly, her heart doesn’t work. Not now. Not ever. It was a mere sensory illusion brought on by nerves.

     He called her Death. While a strong part of her objected to the title, a smaller portion cried out, wanting to hear it again. "Touch me," she said, her free hand snatching his wrist and squeezing, "an’ you’ll lose that hand." Her voice was a snarl. She could hear the erratic beat in his chest and her face flinched for a second. Control, Jubilee. Control. There was that painful itch in her hands again. Control, God dammit. 

"Why do you wanna die so badly?

[skxllfucker]

       He winced-- that pain was not a good pain. She was very strong and that was not the kind of pain he wanted right now. But he wasn't to argue with what he received, not right now. 

       And then the question-- this perplexes him.

       "Death, I-- I have only been trying to be with you for many years. You keep rejecting me. You've all I had and. I would think you'd understand." He choked the words out, as if he was professing to his greatest love; he was, after all, doing just that or so he thought. The red in her eyes continued to hold him, hypnotizing him. "I don't understand what I ever did to keep you from taking me."

       He was being selfish in this moment, admitting how he yearned for it, how he didn't like the waiting she caused of him. But when else would he be able to be so honest to her.

[xlydiadeetz]

        Of course she’s pleased when he says yes. Pulling out the pictures, she points to the mist in the pictures. There’s a faint outline of a woman and a man. And off in the corner there’s an orb - but she doesn’t point it out at all. “See them? Right there. Not the best but that was at their full strength.” 

        Blinking for a moment, she then realizes just how dark it is out here and pulls her lantern onto her lap as well so William can potentially see the photos. 

[skxllfucker]

     William stares to the photos a moment before catching on.

     He reached over and took it quickly, bringing it up to his face. A smile forming, genuine now. "Oh! Oh, this is a good one. Where did you find these poltergeists?" He had not indulged in searching for spirits in some time. He'd been a little too caught up with work and "dating."