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@stcllaincognita
"π πππ πππππ’ ππ’πππππππ’ πππππ π πππππ ππ πππππ ππππ π ππππ ππ'π ππππ."
stcllaincognita, a semi-selective, fandomless OC roleplay blog, penned by Sci, studying themes of occultism, hidden truths, dark secrets, lost innocence, and getting in way over your head.
;; the muse ;; the rules ;; the main blog ;;
Another awful thing about having my main blog nuked: I CAN'T ACCESS ANY OF MY FUCKING SIDEBLOGS
favorite word?
Hi, I'm actually someone you sent this to already! My main blog got nuked, I was @sci-the-superb ;w;
My favorite word is gentle!
Hello to all the random blogs I'm now following, it's @sci-the-superb, tumblr nuked my main and I'm working on getting it back rn but for now I'm using this old rp blog in the interim
;; Updated Stella's description and added a new paragraph of fun and exciting new information!
;; ...I like to think that deeper into her studies Stella just straight up ends up becoming a witch of some sort
nyarla, shantak and cthulhu
;; ...taps mic
Is this thing on
;; Seeing posts from one of my sideblogs breach containment is so fucking surreal
π;; "Oh- n-no, I don't work at the library, I'm just... there a lot! I'm a student, actually- er, Carter. Stella Carter. I've- I've seen you around school. I'm usually at the library researching for-"
Upon his inquiry, her brows shot up in surprise. She glanced down at her shoulderbag, laden with her precious papers and notebooks, and... oh, the conflict that crossed her face. In another life, perhaps Mr. West could have been a psychologist.
π;; "...um... I can- I can carry all this, just a second-" she mumbled, dropping to a knee to begin unloading the various books and papers she had been carrying. Three notebooks total, and dozens of loose papers, each filled page to page with scribbles, diagrams, and scattered notes - much of which appeared to be complete and utter gibberish.
π;; "...I'd- um- I can come with you-? Going off to bury something in the middle of the night seems kind of dangerous all alone, yeah...?" she suggested, adjusting her things in her arms and hoping to regain a semblance of order.
Not to mention she didn't exactly trust that her shoulderbag would be returned safely if she let it go off alone.
Interesting. She did seem the appropriate age to be a student, but now that Herbert thought about it, he was quite certain she had been in the library every time he'd been in there. An addiction to studying, to say the least.
Well, his proposition had half worked. He didn't want to bury the raccoon, he wanted to take it back to the basement to work on. But he'd make this work.
"I can more than take care of myself, Miss Carter, but you may come along."
He took the bookbag and opened it before he knelt down to the raccoon corpse. He scooped it up by the tail and plopped it into the bag. "I have a shovel back at the place I'm staying, we'll stop there first before we move forward with the burial. Follow me."
It was a quiet night, enough to make Herbert's skin crawl a bit... especially with the unfortunate tagalong he had with him. "So. You study dead languages?" He nodded at the papers she was now burdened down with in her arms. "I couldn't help but catch a glimpse of your notes. They seemed... interesting." More like nonsensical. If Herbert was lucky, she was just crazy and would be easier to fool.
Nighttime always made Stella rather jittery. Given her propensity for late nights, and walking home alone at night, she liked to think she'd developed a thick skin around it β but it was no such luck. The silence and the darkness always made her bristle, but... it was at least slightly lessened with her strange company.
God above, she'd probably consider just getting a new bag at this point.
π;; "Hm-?" She blinked when she was addressed, glancing down at her load before a smile began to tug up on her lips. "Oh! In a sense, yes... I-I study ancient mythologies. I'm actually working on a, umβΒ a small research project of sorts. I found an old news story in the archives about a break-in and aβ a bizarre death, at the library decades ago, supposedly spurred on by... by the copy of the Necronomicon that's kept there. So I... I started looking into it, and... well, I've been copying down its passages, hoping to... to find out what its mythologies and alleged spells say. That's the... the 'dead language' you must've seen."
As they walked together with their morbid package, she found her anxieties slowly lessening β seems that discussing her research calmed her nerves, macabre as it was.
π;; "The story itself was strange... the person who broke in was killed right there in the library, andβ and yet, no body was ever recovered... I wonder what happened to it...?"
Stella had the unfortunate habit of forgetting about the passage of time. When she wasn't writing essays, or researching for her classes, her time was spent deep within the University library - poring over archives of journals and newspapers, and that book, that damned book. It's not like she could just take it with her - and hence, she would tuck herself away for hours at a time, oft until the librarian or - god forbid - the night security, had to come by and tell her it was time to leave. She would always make haste to gather her notes, away from prying eyes, and she would scuttle away in an apologetic hurry, loose papers and scrawled notebooks pressed flush in her arms or stuffed into her bag.
It was on one such hurry home that she had stumbled across a peculiar sight, a man investigating a dead animal. Such an appearance struck her as tremendously odd, and she found herself slowing her rush in order to observe, curious, perturbed, and... keenly interested in what it was he was looking for.
When noticed, though, she jumped - he was quick to right himself and she did the same, hurrying to clutch the notebooks in her arms just a bit closer while adjusting the overflowing bag over her shoulder.
π;; "Oh, I- I see. Poor thing..." she murmured, with a small tilt of her head. "You should be careful- god only knows what kind of things it might be carrying. I'm... sorry, have- have we met before-?"
She had surely seen him before, she felt - yes, that strange boy from the medical school. Spotted as she was flitting between classes, passing by the hospital on grounds... he always had such a bizarre, almost intimidating air about him, were it not for his disarming features.
The young woman was carrying enough reading material to kickstart her own library. It was impressive, if not incredibly disorganized. She looked the book version of a crazed bag lady. Herbert furrowed his brow as he tried to place her. "I don't believe so. West, Herbert West," he gestured to himself, considering that enough of an introduction.
Wait... yes, he had seen her before.
"You're in the library every time I'm in there. You're one of the staff then, I presume. I do most of my studying at home, I don't care for any form of distraction."
He glanced forlornly at the raccoon corpse. Not for grief of its death, moreso disappointment he couldn't think of a reasonable way to take it with him, especially with this girl watching him.
Unless...
"You wouldn't happen to have a bag, so I could take this poor thing away from the road? It deserves a grave, not to get pecked apart by carrion birds that'll no doubt come for it soon." Women were always so tearful when it came to dead animals, if she had anything to help Herbert carry the corpse, no doubt she'd feel pulled to assist.
π;; "Oh- n-no, I don't work at the library, I'm just... there a lot! I'm a student, actually- er, Carter. Stella Carter. I've- I've seen you around school. I'm usually at the library researching for-"
Upon his inquiry, her brows shot up in surprise. She glanced down at her shoulderbag, laden with her precious papers and notebooks, and... oh, the conflict that crossed her face. In another life, perhaps Mr. West could have been a psychologist.
π;; "...um... I can- I can carry all this, just a second-" she mumbled, dropping to a knee to begin unloading the various books and papers she had been carrying. Three notebooks total, and dozens of loose papers, each filled page to page with scribbles, diagrams, and scattered notes - much of which appeared to be complete and utter gibberish.
π;; "...I'd- um- I can come with you-? Going off to bury something in the middle of the night seems kind of dangerous all alone, yeah...?" she suggested, adjusting her things in her arms and hoping to regain a semblance of order.
Not to mention she didn't exactly trust that her shoulderbag would be returned safely if she let it go off alone.
;; Welcome to Miskatonic University, to your left you'll see someone raising corpses in the med school morgue, to your right you'll see someone summoning ancient deities in the university library-
Herbert West was not nearly so classless as to purposefully walk along the roads to pick up roadkill for his experiments. He could source his dead from a hundred other sources. It wasn't out of desperation, he wasn't even looking for the dead tonight- he was just heading back home after a day of pushing bodies.
... But the raccoon he happened to stumble across was not only recently deceased, it hadn't been pancaked. More so bumped. Bumped hard enough that it was no longer with the living world, but not enough that its head (and more importantly, its brain) seemed damaged.
So that's why Herbert was using a stick to roll the creature over, try to find a decent way to pick it up when the woman happened across him.
Herbert quickly straightened back up, tossing the stick away quickly and slipping his hands in his pockets. "Pity, it's already left this world," he said. "I wondered if it was just playing dead, but there's no playing about it. It's quite dead."
@stcllaincognita
Stella had the unfortunate habit of forgetting about the passage of time. When she wasn't writing essays, or researching for her classes, her time was spent deep within the University library - poring over archives of journals and newspapers, and that book, that damned book. It's not like she could just take it with her - and hence, she would tuck herself away for hours at a time, oft until the librarian or - god forbid - the night security, had to come by and tell her it was time to leave. She would always make haste to gather her notes, away from prying eyes, and she would scuttle away in an apologetic hurry, loose papers and scrawled notebooks pressed flush in her arms or stuffed into her bag.
It was on one such hurry home that she had stumbled across a peculiar sight, a man investigating a dead animal. Such an appearance struck her as tremendously odd, and she found herself slowing her rush in order to observe, curious, perturbed, and... keenly interested in what it was he was looking for.
When noticed, though, she jumped - he was quick to right himself and she did the same, hurrying to clutch the notebooks in her arms just a bit closer while adjusting the overflowing bag over her shoulder.
π;; "Oh, I- I see. Poor thing..." she murmured, with a small tilt of her head. "You should be careful- god only knows what kind of things it might be carrying. I'm... sorry, have- have we met before-?"
She had surely seen him before, she felt - yes, that strange boy from the medical school. Spotted as she was flitting between classes, passing by the hospital on grounds... he always had such a bizarre, almost intimidating air about him, were it not for his disarming features.
;; ...consider this an invitation to hop into my inbox/DMs to plotβ
;; Happy Munday (Wednesday) my dudes
DEEP MADNESSΒ
by PedroΒ βLordiganβ Sena
