#*(c:stryfe)

[vvithermulti]

@goreverine​ liked for a starter ; 

   Condensation has formed on the glass, a small ring of liquid forming around the base, turning pink as it mixes with the blood and viscera on the counter. It drips over his fingers when he takes the glass and brings it to his lips for another mouthful of stale beer.  By the time he swallows, he knows that company has arrived. Not by the disgustingly cheery ring of the bell hanging above the door, but by the sudden swell of hope the bar wench in front of him feels when she sees the man whom she believes to be a savior.

   “I would tell you I’m sorry, Dolores…” A pause as he basks the fear that screams from her mind. He does need to be a telepath to know that she is utterly and completely afraid. It is written all over her face, the hope fastly draining to terror. He cannot help but smirk at that. His left eye flares suddenly, a bright flash of gold, and her neck twists at an odd angle, snapping without him even raising a finger. She crumples like a rag doll. “… But I’m not.”

   Stryfe knocks back the rest of his drink and stands, turning to face the man that’s just entered. This one he’s not familiar with and was expecting something… more. A greater response. Whether or not he is offended has yet to be determined. “It took you long enough. I was beginning to think that Krakoa had turned a blind eye to me and mine.” He is a mirror of Nathan Summers, somewhere in time between the Kid and the Old Man, unscarred by the techno-organic virus. His hair is bleached white, hiding any remnants of auburn. A clone, created not by the Five but a cult several thousand years in the future.

[vvithermulti]

@heirofapocalypse​ cont.

    "Does unleashing a scourge upon mutant and mankind not make me wicked?” The cruel smile remains, as if he is proud of the deaths his pox has wrought. Cable once called him an obscenity. He finds more and more that he agrees. 

    “Now,” He rises from his chair. “Is there something that you needed or have you come simply to chat?”

[vvithermulti]

“You look tired.” (from heirofapocalypse)

meme // @heirofapocalypse

   His lips form a humorless smile, rueful and wretched. He is tired. But soon the fruits of his labors will make it all worth while. “There is a saying that the humans of this era are so fond of – ‘there is no rest of the wicked.’ Fitting, is it not?.” 

[vvithermulti]

bych

    “Better to be a a superior ‘bych’ than a miserable old first draft.”

[vvithermulti]

@sanguinibus​

The smell of burning ozone fills the air, not unlike the scent that warns of imminent lightning. But it isn’t a storm. A bright blue light rips through the inky blackness of the alley. Like the maw of some great beast it widens, gaping open for a few tense seconds, crackling with energy, before the Chaos-Bringer emerges.

“Long time no see.” Beneath the mask, his eye glows brightly. A cruel smile forms on his lips as his gaze finds his genetic sibling, his reason for traveling to this back-water temporal zone. “Don’t be shy, girl. Let brother dearest take a look at you.”

[vvithermulti]

“You. What in the hell do you want.”

     “I want a great many things– but I’ll settle for the world.”

[vvithermulti]

#nathan you look like shit "Mind your business, trash can."

        “How dreadful you look! You have gotten so old, Askani’son; I daresay that I have seen mummies in better condition than you.”