#allhesaid 02

[cerebralbleu]

@allhesaid

Adjusting to his new normal was a surreal experience, and Legato was not quite there yet. Choosing to start over, going down a path that wasn't going to lead him to total annihilation, all because of the encouragement of the remarkable people he had met in this city. Legato would not claim that he has changed in any capacity. He was still the same man, with familiar vices and ghosts. Only now, he had discovered an outlet in the form of Stigmata Studio.

It was a place all his own, it felt like him, the entire space resonated with his essence, all dark corners that felt comfortable and personal, adorned with his morbid art.

The presence of one Willem Sprunghart disrupts the macabre sanctum.

The chime of the studio's bell at the front door catches his attention. Lithe, pale fingers curl around the cover of a book that he was reading, and Legato slowly lowers it to look over from where he was perched on a stool, golden eyes settling on his client.

" You are on time," his line of sight flickers to the clock on the wall, and then back to Will, uncrossing his legs, setting his book down, and slowly rising to his feet. In the background of the studio, music plays over the speaker system, chattering between one of the piercers and his client can be heard, and of course, the sound of Legato's boots clacking against the floor as he approaches Will.

" Welcome. I did not expect you to be one of my first clients, " he muses in that ghostly, somber voice, raising a brow, and turning around. Legato gestures with a phantom hand for Will to take a seat in one of the chairs near his tattooing table. He looms there, awaiting the mouse's compliance.

" Take a seat. I will show you what I have designed for you, based off of your request. "

[swordsovereign]

@allhesaid ⎛ death space ⎠

well, things kept going from bad to worse. by that, it meant that seofon had learned that this particular swarm of creatures wouldn't die until he dismembered them. and he really hated that. as a hero of justice, he wasn't supposed to cut people to pieces. he wanted to get out of situations by incapacitating them, but not like this. in the end, they were just people, and they hadn't done anything wrong.

cutting down people who couldn't help that they'd gotten sick wasn't his style, but if he didn't ... ❝ how many life or death situations am i going to be in anyway? ❞ not that this was the first, and not that he wasn't used to life or death, but the last real scary thing he'd faced ... actually, that would be himself. his own thoughts. anosiete had wanted him to kill id, simply for the fact that he had bahamut's power. just because of some vision of the kid going off and destroying the world- anosiete had also urged him to give into his anger at aurelius.

that wasn't the type of person seofon wanted to be. but the memories were vivid- he'd promised one death for each blade in his arsenal. this wasn't anything like either of those situations. still, he does what he has to do. he can't save people if he's dead-

and speaking of saving people ...

he recognizes will easily. the poet had wanted a protagonist for his next story, and seofon had been more than happy to serve as inspiration. will was also someone fiyero loved, and that definitely won him points in seofon's book. will didn't seem like he knew how to fight, and dismembering someone definitely didn't seem like something the poet would know how to do. seofon dashes forward, spirit sword slicing through the arms of one of the glitched that had been far too close to grabbing will- he flinches at the amount of blood.

this isn't the sort of person he wants to be. but it sates something in him. anosiete doesn't care who lives and who dies, or how they die. anosiete lived long enough to become a villain. seofon thinks for a moment that he'd rather die a hero. actually, he'd rather not die at all. his bonds were enough to keep him from that dark path- ❝ will! what are you doing out here alone? ❞

[corvisque]

it is instinct that drives zevran's hand. the sound of footfall is what arouses him first, followed by the hint of a figure in the corner of his vision when he is very clearly not expecting visitors. and so, in one fast, fluid motion, the assassin is pinning this intruder to the wall, a dagger pressed against the soft flesh of the man's neck.

it is only a split second realization, that zevran knows who this is, that keeps the blade from severing the intruder's windpipe.

he tuts.

"willem. you really should be more careful."

but he does not remove the blade, even as the pressure on it lessens.

"it would be a shame if something happened to you, cariño."

@allhesaid

[ostentumm]

@allhesaid

"Even without the super cool superhero stuff, I'm still really strong and SUPER fast." Oliver was always the kind of kid to brag!

"What about you? Are you just a regular old man?"

[gemmyicons]

@allhesaid LET'S FISH!

He sits on a boulder, fishing rod in hand as he enjoys the view of the frozen waters. Such a mundane task, fishing was, but even he could see the appeal in it. The hunter hunting food and all that. Morpheus' flames were unharmful to the sheets of ice beneath them. Not that Sebastian would have been worried. He can swim, just would prefer if he didn't get wet.

"Come sit, Willhem."

There was no alert that the man was right there, but Sebastian recognized that scent from miles along.