#adioscaballero

[damez1979]

[damez1979]

Luis Sera’s Final Stand: Is This the Saddest Moment in RE4?

[preordainedpiracy]

// ☤ — a memory of death/loss

It wasn’t her first kill, nor would it be her last.

The troll let out a few screams as she felt up the stairs from the cave below her hive where her starving lusus lie.

She was desperate this eve; an illness kept her bound to coon for a perigee, all the slaves kept, every damn one of them lusus fodder: devoured in that time. When had this beast become so ravenous? Did she truly spend so much time and coin feeding this thing? What was she to do the next time she was gravely ill?

It almost came for her, again. It had not been since she was a wiggler that the beast had come to drag her for its own meal.

The dangers of having a cavern spider lusus--feed, or become to meal. A shudder crawled down her spine at the nightmarish memory from so long ago.

At the top of the steps stood the last troll she wanted to see, still weak and shaken from the process of the events. A servant sacrificed in exchange; controlled to offer his own life.

He gazed at her wordlessly, how much had she seen? The struggle? The control?

“Leg’s bleedin’“ A gruff noise, gesturing to the offending leg.

Mindfang hadn’t even noticed the pain. Her heart hammering hard in her chest, body shaking with fear she had thought belonged to a much younger self. Mutely, she nodded to acknowledge his words, still wide-eyed and terrified.

“Bled all over th’ place.” He grumbled, gesturing to the cerulean streak down the hall. A servant at the end scrubbing furiously. Thankful to not have been the one devoured this time.

How had she been so careless?

Dualscar approached her, hand pressed to her forehead, “Still sick.” A scoff, admonishing her weakened state. “How can y’be my proper kismesis like this? Come on, you’re getting better.”

Mindfang opened her mouth to protest, hate burning her heart. How DARE he imply a simple illness diminished her value--

He was grinning. That ASS.

“I’ll take care of yer monster of a lusus. But you’re owin’ me one.”

He put a finger to her lips to silence whatever words she’d spew, hauling her away with the ease of a seadweller’s strength.

[aetherialarchfiend]

a plastic brightly colored paddle ball!

“Ah... Alright.”

She’s not sure what to do with this, either. Maybe Kiarra will like it? She hasn’t played with one of these... ever. She makes a note to hand it off to her daughter as soon as she’s back from the meet with her friends.

[aetherialarchfiend]

Examine: A plastic singing bass, mounted onto the wall

You look at the singing bass.

It’s... garish. The faux wood of the base, the poor paint job in the fish, the irritating, flat-pitched song it insists on. Overall, it’s awful. You pick it up, and remove it from your wall, running your thumbs over the plastic, looking the lifeless monstrosity in the eye. it definitely was never a real fish. If the plastic didn’t give it away, the dead, soulless expression in its eyes would, for certain. The music shudders to a stop, leaving a disconcerting silence over the room. You look away from the fishes’ eye, setting it on the counter. 

This isn’t yours, where did the house get it?

Before the you can answer, the fish goes missing again. Back to the depths of the house, wherever the lost objects were kept.

Good riddance.

[rosallorart]

Examine: Colorful Tweed Suit

There is a colorful tweed suit among his wardrobe that he does not remember purchasing. It’s a semi-garish thing, burnt orange with a plaid of brown and yellow. He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this, so why is it here? He presses the wooden buttons, two-holed, seeing that the thread holding them to the suitjacket is firm. 

He opens it, finding a red silk lining on the inside- a daring choice. There is no doubt in his mind that this is a custom made piece, but it seems designed for a man much smaller than him - more Spades’ size, if he’s being honest. Not that Spades would ever wear something like this. He rummages into the pockets, thinking that perhaps his dry-cleaning got mixed up with someone else’s. He can’t wear this suit, but surely it cost a small fortune. From one gentleman to another, he should see that it be returned.

There’s a few slips of paper in the inner pocket - one with an address he does not recognize. The initials “CC”. There’s a clue, at least. Another is a grocery list, mentioning that “Scoot” will go out to collect said things next friday. Another clue. 

He presses into the other pocket, and is met with metal. He draws out a set of dog tags - they’re strange to him. He knows that soldiers kept them on their person for identification reasons. Perhaps this man was a former soldier.

“Hale Demonax” is engraved onto the smooth, nickel surface. HD. Though “Hale Demonax” is no name he’s ever encountered before, and it isn’t a traditional title, carapaces were taking on all kinds of different names now that the War was over. Maybe Hale was CC’s beloved. Maybe they were batchmates.

Droog furrows his brow, and decides he’ll take it to his dry cleaner in an attempt to find the owner.

[rosallorart]

extra goodies 8O

Droog likes the feeling of the dew of the morning on metal- specifially on lamposts and wrought iron fences.

[aetherialarchfiend]

extra goodies! :v

The Demoness has, and continues to, on her exhausted, no motivation days, take a bite out of an unpeeled grapefruit. The bitterness would wake anyone.