#circumscribedvoid

[playingwithashadow-blog-blo-blog]

circumscribedvoid started following you

She hesitated for a small moment before speaking. "You know... things haven't been quite right since we talked. Sleeping is weird."

[twicebetrayed-blog]

(ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

send a "(ㆁᴗㆁ✿)" and i’ll rate your blog.

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following: no sorry | just followed | yes | you mean stalk what i'm a stalker i am s o r r y

[normandyxo-archive-blog]

'u have a nice butt'

u too u piece of trash bf

[cothurnas-blog1]

touches ur hand and whispers 'my dear corbo'

               There's enough to go around.

[cothurnas-blog1]

Death.

death | my character's reaction to your character dying.

               The Outsider only appears human; no                end, no beginning, as far as Corvo is                concerned. He never paid much attention                to the Abbey's teachings or religious                history of any kind. It wasn't ever immediately                important to him.

                              Now, he wishes that maybe he had listened.

               There is so much blood covering his hands                as he presses them to the Outsider's stomach,                on wounds that appear from nowhere, slices                that mirror the ones cut into whales over and over,                methodically and without care. Corvo is helplessly                watching the red pool deeper, the purple curtains                of the shrine stain dark, and the Outsider's eyes are                as glittering black as ever, pain written on his face                but gaze showing centuries. 

                              It is such an alien thing, to see pain there in                               the god's expression. Corvo is transfixed, hands                               pressed atop the Outsider's coat, brows drawn                               together. 

               The red is slowing down, but Corvo feels a pulse                somewhere deep in the black guts he is keeping                inside the god's body by virtue of sheer willpower.                The beats from the pulse slow, too, until they are faint                enough again to not be felt. Warm blood covers Corvo's                knees, the bottom of his own coat, his shoes -- he is                sticky with it, and the Outsider blinks -- 

                              -- briefly, his eyes are that of a human's, brilliant                               blue like the sea and the sky merged into one, and                               it is gone again when his eyes close finally --

               and Corvo is alone and there is a terribly small body                of a god thousands of years old in his arms, red-stained                hands holding the empty shell close, and Corvo feels                a familiar desolation. 

[twicebetrayed-blog]

( 15 ) Dane DeHaan icons for circumscribedvoid.

[cothurnas-blog1]

❛ brush ❜

...for my character's reaction to your character running their fingers through my character's hair.

               The Void is a blanket that covers like the                air is damp, always; there is no real                temperature to it that Corvo can feel, the                only discerning show of heat (or lack thereof)                being the mark on the back of his hand; he                has never questioned it, nor thought much of it.                Fingers like a ghost's climb through his hair as                he opens weary eyes to the not-world around                him, and he sinks back into the touch, brows lax                for once. He is comfortable, though he does not               really realize this.

               It is the first time in a dreadfully long time that he                has no room set aside in his mind for the way his                muscles quirk painfully at certain angles or the ache                of particular old wounds acting up again.

               All there is are the fingers sliding through his hair.                Counting out a rhythm. One finger, two, three, four,                touch down between strands, tug gently like pulling out                knots of sorrow, and Corvo closes his eyes again without                a word and allows the feeling to soak into his bones.

[kaldwiin-blog-blog]

circumscribedvoid

     Honestly one could hardly go ten feet in Dunwall without encountering a shrine of sorts to the mysterious being known only at the Outsider. The Empress was indifferent towards any religion, as she found herself to be a strong enforcer of the separation of church and state. While the Abbey influenced the political system more heavily than she would like, it was unavoidable in the end.

     She would have been more impressed to find the glow of purple lanterns near the back of the kitchens, considering the aforementioned influence, if it not be for the sudden worry that struck her. The individual who put this here was sure to be found out. Jessamine had no desire deal with the Abbey and their inevitable accusations. For a moment, she considered taking it down herself. Though to be caught with such items meant for the worship of an infamous figure would be political suicide. Or actual suicide, depending.

     It was well hidden, she'll give the maker that. The only reason she was in such an unseen part of her tower was to seek out a certain hiding little girl who should be studying. Jessamine lingered near the lights for reasons she couldn't quite place, her arms crossed, almost entranced by soft colors and odd, whispering winds.