#ca1nsheresy

[gravityslingshot]

@ca1nsheresy asked: 'can you not see your future?’

Heeeeeaaaaar. It is not enough to simply speak.

Dthe bloody Muslims and Turks squeal at the back beneath the crushing weight of their horses’ bellies. Dthe sounds of war have never left dthis place. The terrible scutter of meaningless oaths and brave lies rake the roadway beneath the death-dealing rain of arrowheads that pierced enemies through the armour. The noise of marching wails louder than the wind, whistling and flying under the castle ceilings, bringing with it the beetles and pearl-winged flies from the exquisite gardens. Dracula is in each creature, in the whites of their eyes and their rapidly pulsing cavities, in the fear dripping down the red sandstone pillars.

The dead have no leggss, burnt away in the vas ustrinum. He who wishes to enter, must work. He who has legs will walk ten times the hours more. And so the inferior creatures of the night; the earthen earthworms rise and wriggle by the dampness of soil and the darkness of the castle corridor by his feet, lifting their dreadful fingers in secret to tamper Gabriel’s eyes rheumy.

The ground, waterlogged as a graveyard, drags at his shoes. Fatigued…..forever their tunnel is…..long and abject the fable is.

You are welcomed to O-ver-stay. Dracula grins slowly. Inside his mouth, ten earthworms of his tongue curl like soft roots. Ten times of the hours more. Tens of tens. Walk… Feel ten of your years, walk.  The crowns of your knees have been feeling painful, brittle, growing more and more…-- edible – to the elements.

 Now, wake. There is a glow ahead, a dimly flickering flame and then another and nuther.

His paintings stare down, sepia laced over colours. Figs poached, pomegranates, and grapes you will never taste. Where plunges the rays of hope? Where is the window that light came through, straight from the sun above? It is the warm, glim darkness, my friend, and may my eyes see you. 

May the world forget that you are here...

‘   It has been awhiiiiile – since…– My Eyes have seen.  ‘   

The Count, raised on the stairs, aged, his skin pallid and his hair cast long over his shoulders, turns back to him.

‘  Are you tired?   ‘   He smiles, his teeth remarkably healthy.   ‘   We have a room you will take rest in.   ‘

For these many years.

[narrativeobsession]

@ca1nsheresy needed to lend a hand

"i'm going to be sick." Baxter's voice is low, as casual as he can make it. i'm going to be sick, he's said, code for , if you don't get me out of here soon i'm going to start swinging. Code for anger, code for near panic. Code for i'm begging you, get me out of here before i really do something i regret.

Gaze flicks up at Utterson, animal fear barely disguising something much more feral sets on him. Back to a woman also in the art gallery chewing gum, chewing loudly and snap, snap, snap, the gum goes and Baxter physically cringes. Now his eyes are set on her, and almost all the fear is gone, hands are in fists, jaw is set.

"please," last ditch attempt, "i'm going to be sick."

[crownedinsin-a]

~ @ca1nsheresy || sometimes attention hurts more than it helps. ~

Lucifer considers a vapid response, something light and flighty and completely disconnected from any form of depth. After all, that's the easiest way to prevent vulnerability - Return any seriousness with a quip, a grin and an offer of a drink. However, Gabriel has a terribly annoying habit of seeing right through that. So, feeling wildly out of character, Satan nods.

"Do you know -" He rolls his glass around in his hand. "That I don't actually endorse many sects of extreme Satanism. And yet, the attention they garner only drags my name into even worse standing." Lips purse, musing. "Now, they're not all bad. Some branches of it actually have a good understanding of my beliefs and motives but others - The ones that murder children and want to have sex with goats? Horrendous people."

[gravityslingshot]

@ca1nsheresy asked: 'i’m the one who carried you.’

‘   Wow, I must say, that I’m flattered. Male-male romance was first written about in uh, the first century AD. And the oldest queer-related pieces of art were found in the Grotta dell’Addaura – a cave in Sicily, depicting male figures in hives doing the do. But uh, actually, it was in fact Cain’s first handjob with Abel that made ancient history. He really, uh, loved a brother from a mother.  ‘  

' Wait... What happened again? Did I pass out? '

[gravityslingshot]

@ca1nsheresy asked: fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

‘   Was that from Yoda?   ‘   The priest leans away, sideways, to see him better. The light on the pews has a way of spotlighting those who needed a listening ear from every corner of the room.

Let me put it this way: let’s say you had an arm. Let’s say it was an arm, instead, that got stiff and stuck out suddenly and unsightly, and calming it down felt amazing. Tell me you wouldn’t think, not wonder what the big deal was to just ask people if they could take a minute and take care of that arm for you.

It’s just him in the dark, modest middle-class shirt with just the light mints in the plaid enough for one to tell that he 1) isn’t boring, and 2) cares.

But anger… anger has he. Hate, has he. Suffering, has he.

--- Give you the details? Never!

His best friend that he couldn’t count on, always says this. She waits on the screen when he gets home from church and they are back up in her room taking his shirt off, an always pending request.

The sex is the details, he means.

This isn’t that. This isn’t the story he’s typing. This is about you.

‘   I don’t even know if you’d call it a movie, do you? It’s significant if it touches lives.   ‘

[femlette]

"Have you not yet realised that there's no way out?" ( @ peter from @ca1nsheresy ! )

｡° ⸻ @ca1nsheresy.

The laugh that rips from his throat and puffs his chest is entirely, wholly unkind as it is boisterous and genuine. A full hearty amusement as he shakes his head at the other, like his proclaimation was the hilarity of the century. There's even a charming little scrunch to his nose, teeth bared in a similarly sinister smile despite it's honest entertainment.

       ❝ And tell me, just what makes you think I want out?  Hm? ❞   Another little chuckle bubbles up in his throat, threatening to break through and held back only by his tight little smile.   ❝ You think I built my grand ol' empire just to  want out? ❞   A bark of laughter and Peter sighs, hefty and content.   ❝ Gabriel, if you really think that's bad enough, I suggest you best reconsider this business, then. 'Cause I'm not planning on  getting out. ❞

[femlette]

"I’ve got you" ( @ Emily, from @ca1nsheresy !)

｡° ⸻ @ca1nsheresy.

Only half the blood was her own, still draining slowly from every cut and bust in her skin. The break on her brow and on her lip would take three weeks to heal. The rest of the damage she'd taken from the knives, fists, and iron could range anywhere from a month to four. The emotional part? Emily knew she might never recover. Every gentle dab that takes away a bit of blood is met with a silent wince and a slight tightening of her expression. It was less that the wounds themselves hurt and more like living just felt sore entirely, like her soul was a bruise. His assurance does help though, soothing enough to keep her from squirming.

       ❝ You don't have to do this, ❞   she tries softly. An out so he didn't have to get any more blood on him-   literal  and  metaphorical. Peter's   discipline   was something she was used to. She didn't want Gabriel to be the same.   ❝ .. but I appreciate it. ❞