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[TXT] Can I See You? (Blcthhccndr @ Elliott]
[Text to My Soul] Hey there pup
[Text to My Soul] everything okay?
[Text to My Soul] you know where my spare is kept
[Text to My Soul] let yourself in
[Text to My Soul] do i need to ready up for murder?
[Text to My Soul] because I just got all dolled up for it
[Text to My Soul] who touched my pup? >:|
It appears that the egg has hatched, Mirage. (blcthhccndr)
He doesn’t know why, but he practically sprints over toward Bloth, eager to see what hatched out.
“Take this gift, for the gods surely won’t.” (blcthhccndr)
LINES I’VE HEARD THAT ARE RAW AS HELL. / @blcthhccndr
peering at the item in their hands, octavio was confused to be gifted something from the hunter ( no matter how odd that gift may be ). holding his palm out to take whatever it was that bloodhound was offering, he was surprised that it wasn’t a physical object. ❛ ¿qué? ❜ staring at their empty hands, he wasn’t sure what to say. the conversation between the two was awkward as always, it was difficult to converse with someone when both had their facial features concealed -- he could never tell what kind of expression that they were wearing underneath all of that. his own tone was expressive & gave away hints of what faces he may be making, but for the other . . . it was always as ambiguous as their speech.
pulling his hand back with a laugh, he quickly tried to cover up his mistakes. ❛ lo siento, this is one of your . . . eh, religión things, right? ❜ it was always confusing to him to hear that way that bloodhound spoke of gods & referenced mythology so often. everything about the other was an enigma, even the way that they would state the most simple things.
“Don’t all of you hate each other?” (blcthhccndr)
@blcthhccndr
“I tolerate them.” She scoffs, talking about her squad mates. It was a lie, sure. She cared about them more than anyone else, perhaps because she had no one else to care about. “They’ve watched my back before, and I’d trust them to do it again. I don’t hate them, though.”
"Mirage. Felagi. Mirage. Elliott. Wake up, the ring is coming. Mirage...." Kneels down. Deep breath. "FELAGI!" (blcthhccndr)
@blcthhccndr
mirage feel asleep in the middle of the match due to fatigue from not getting enough sleep last night. so when bloodhound shouted quite loudly into his ears, mirage woke suddenly with a jump.“ahh!” he yelled. “i’m up i’m up! i swear i’m up!” he said quickly with a panic. it took him about 7 seconds to realize who was in front of him was bloodhound and the place around them was the arena with the ring moving oddly close…..the ring! “oh…” he quickly fumbles to get up and to follow bloodhounds lead.
🌠 blcthhccndr
@blcthhccndr
- A scream in the woods in the middle of the night, and the following chill violently jolting down your spine from instinct. Telling yourself that foxes are common in this area, and it was probably nothing, because ignorance is easier to live with.
- Washing bloodied tools in the stream and watching the water run clear.
- Walks at night in places unbothered by humanity, never knowing such deep darkness away from light pollution. Looking up and realizing just how many stars you’ve never seen before.
💿 blcthhccndr (nope dont think its cheating :)c )
@blcthhccndr
Pyre — Son Lux
We’re wresting now from our own hands a futureRegret the flower of watered seedAre we the ghosts that swarm about us?We can beginWe can begin again
This is stolen from my own Bloodhound playlist, and it’s actually more of an aesthetic pick than anything else, but between this song and If I Had A Heart (Which, amusingly, was the theme song for the show ‘Vikings’), they both have this fairly simple, but very powerful and almost primal sound to them that I think fits Bloodhound well, the latter one especially.
If The World Had Been Different ||OFELIA WITT EVERYBODY||
Elliott Witt was the youngest, and he had hated it. He hated how he was teased and mocked for everything that he did, that every stumble on his words and every falter on his progress was ridiculed and torn apart.
He hated being the youngest, and hated his brothers.
So when his mother had told them the news, his face had lit up, hands finding her stomach in awe.
“Wait.... So I’m not gonna be the youngest?” he was six, his voice watery as tears formed in his eyes, but they were of joy, the mocking words from his brothers falling on deaf ears.
“No, not any more. You’ll be a big brother, can you do that for me?” his mother was soft, a smile and a laugh tinting her words as she watched her youngest son puff up and nod vigorously, so much so that he stumbled and nearly fell over.
“Uh huh! An’ I’ll teach them to talk, an’ play, an’ draw, an’-” his oldest brother tutted something and Elliott buried his face in his mother’s stomach to ignore them, murmuring that he ‘wuved’ his sibling.
Elliott was glued to his mother since, working on learning to cook and bake, learning about her work with the machines she built and designed, he even went to her parenting classes to learn to change diapers and feed, burp and clean babies.
He wanted to be the best big brother this side of the Galaxy.
A few months in, Elliott looked to his mother after she rolled a few words out in frustration. He frowned and mere moments later, his face lit up.
“Mama, I wanna learn how to speak that!” his voice snapped her out of her thoughts, making her look to the boy shocked. “My brothers don’t know how and don’t wanna learn, but I want my baby sibling to be special with me! Pwease mama, pwease!” he begged, bouncing on the spot as he clung to her leg, and the woman just laughed warmly.
“Of course, Elliott, but it is really hard. You sure you are up for the challenge?” she asked and watched in pure love as her son’s face turned firm, so much like his fathers, and nodded, warm brown eyes flicked with a hint of blue unyielding in a five year old’s determination.
“Anything for my baby sibling!” he said firmly and she smiled, pulling him into an embrace, tears falling from her eyes. He was a spitting image of their father, and it hurt knowing the man will never return home.
And so, Elliott asked his mother what everything was called in the language she said was named ‘Spanish’. It turns out, the young man had a natural talent for speaking the tongue his father had used. This both hurt and warmed his mothers heart, and would willingly teach him anything.
By the time they got a gender, Elliott perked up, hearing it was a girl. He looked so giddy with excitement as he ran and danced around his mother, stomach swollen from the child she bore.
“I haven’t even thought of a name.” he heard his mother sigh as she sat in the taxi to take them home, and those bright eyes squinted in thought.
“Ofelia!” his mother looked to him before gasping as the baby kicked, the son instantly diving to touch her stomach, knowing every breath and sound from the woman and what it meant. “Te gusta ese nombre. Derecha, Ofelia?” he felt the kick and his mother could only watch with a smile as his face lit up, tucking her shirt up to press a gentle kiss to where the baby’s head was seen in the scan.
He would make an amazing big brother.
When time came for the birth, Elliott was the only one in the room, holding his mothers hands, hushing her and soothing her. It was his birthday, and he refused to leave her side long into the evening.
Just shy of midnight, the baby was born, and Elliott watched the bloody ball move. It made no sound, and he grew panicked. Babies were meant to cry.
“Ofelia?” the name, so soft and quiet from the newly six year olds mouth was what gave life to the form.
They jolted, shaking before coughing up blood and mucus. Then he heard it, the piercing wail, and whilst his mother flinched, tired and happy, Elliott threw his hands up and silently cheered.
The first to hold the little girl was, of course, Elliott. When his mother told the doctor to hand the baby to the six year old, Elliott whipped his head around to stare wide eyed.
“If you’re going to be the best big brother, you deserve to hold her first.” he saw the exhaustion in her eyes and simply nodded.
The child, now cleaned and wrapped up, nestled into Elliott’s chest easily. He sat in a chair made for giants and gently touched the girls hand. When the fingers wrapped around his own, tears formed in his eyes and he placed a soft kiss to her head.
“Te amo hermana.” he murmured and his mother closed her eyes, smiling sweetly.
Two weeks and they left the hospital, the child held confidently in Elliott's arms, his mother in a wheelchair and his big brothers there to pick them up, his oldest brother being the driver.
“Mom, why’d you give the kid to him? He’s just gonna drop her.” Aleczander, Elliott’s oldest brother, standing at seventeen years old, chided his mother, who watched Elliott’s face fall.
“Aleczander Matthew Witt, you keep your mouth shut. At least your brother is happy he has a baby sister.” her words were sharp and the teenager blinked in shock, eyes wide as the full wrath of his mother bore down on him. “Now help your mother get home, or so help me, son, I will take your keys away.” she snapped and the young man nodded, opening the door nervously.
The other two chuckled at him being caught out, but out of the two, it was the second oldest, Priar Witt, who crouched down to say hello to the newest Witt.
“So I hear big bro Elli gave you your name.” the fourteen year old said and Elliott readied to be mocked. “It fits you... Welcome home, Ofelia Witt.” he kissed her head and looked to Elliott. “Come on, I even set up your room with hers like you asked.” and those words had the youngest boy beaming.
Over the course of the next few years, Elliott was glued to his sister now, taking care of her, teaching her, feeding her, everything she needed he waited on her. When in school, he got better grades, fighting for a better standard to make her proud of him.
Her first word was an accident. She had been listening to Elliott talk Spanish, and it was one evening when he was excitedly talking to his mother about a technology idea.
“But mom! I have the blueprints! Think about it, we could use the tech we have that bends light and use it to form decoys, like a mirage!” he was gushing about his plans he had worked on.
“Merage!” the tiny voice had the whole kitchen freezing, five pairs of eyes turning to the tiny frame in the high seat.
They shrunk down at the stares and Elliott hopped off the stool he was on to rush over.
“What did you say?” he asked and she stammered in panic, but Elliott shook his head, cradling her face. “Remember what big brother said, yes? Puff your chest out and be proud! Doesn’t matter how many times it takes, proud!” he puffed his chest out, his cheeks blown, looking like a fool, but it worked.
She giggled, then copied his stance, puffing her chest out.
“Merage!” she said again then frowned. “Merage merage merage.... Mirage!” the last time had Elliott squealing, lifting her up and spinning her around, cheering her on. Her arms went out instantly and she giggled.
Her second word broke both Elliott’s heart and his mothers.
“Elliott!” she clearly looked like she had been practising the word time and time again, though her voice was thick with a Spanish tone as Elliott had taught her Spanish first.
The sound of his name had him looking up, before it clicked who said it. He was then thrown to the floor in a tackle hug, tears falling from his eyes as he clung to her.
When she was old enough to walk and talk, she was a wild energy that had she and Elliott in some nasty messes, their big brothers pulling them out of it and laughing. The two were inseparable.
When people begun to tease her in school for barely speaking English, she had somehow made a crossbow out of pens and rubber bands and put a pen through a student’s book, inches from their face. Elliott and her both were grounded for a month, but in the secrecy of their shared room, he gave her a high-five and told her how proud he was.
It was only natural, as the years went on, that Elliott was a prominent fixture in her daredevil days, always there to hold the camera and be in selfies with her, doing the stupid shit with her.
They lost their brothers, but vowed never to leave each others sides.
With their fame, they opened a Bar, a fairly nice sized place to house their friends the Psamathe Alma Del Diablo, how they got involved was Elliott and Ofelia saved the daughter of the head of the crew from being raped, it was all really just a happy accident. The Witt team were doing a late run after making a mess at some bar, when they heard the cries for help.
Anyways, the bar got big and fast, and soon, the Psamathe Alma Del Diablo became the Solace Alma Del Diablo. When Ofelia lost her legs, Elliott threw himself into the Apex Games to get the money to pay Ajay Che for new legs.
It was only natural that, when she was up and running, literally, that she would burst into the Game, making a scene and proudly displaying her skills as an adrenaline junkie.
And Elliott couldn’t be prouder of his little sister, amused that no one could tell they were siblings, because she embraced the Spanish side whilst his voice was raised as anything but Spanish.
And what a team they make.
