#entersatan

[metalsiren-a]

❛ you  cheated  𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵  but  now  it's  real . ❜  

@entersatan | [ 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝙻𝚈𝚁𝙸𝙲 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁 . ] | 🇳​​🇪​​🇴​​🇳​ ​🇬​​🇷​​🇦​​🇻​​🇪​ - ​🇩​​🇦​​🇾​​🇸​​🇪​​🇪​​🇰​​🇪​​🇷​

[fuckedprophet-arch]

♪ ? maybe 🤭

- Animals : Nickleback

- You really got me : Van Halen

- Me and the Devil : Soap&Skin

- Romeo : Until the ribbon breaks

- Short Skirt / Long Jacket : CAKE

[behe4dings]

[ collar ] sender smooths out receiver's collar from danika! @entersatan / accepting.

"how  do  i  look?"  he  asks  once  she's  done,  posing. it's  out  of  his  realm  of  comfort,  a  button  down  fastened  all  the  way  to  the  neck,  but  he's hoping it doesn't show too much in his body language.

[klaeusd]

@entersatan, ♡.

ㅤㅤpassing an old graveyard has him contemplative, plucking a flower from a blooming tree that borders the cemetery. ❛ nothing ever truly dies, ❜ he muses to the other, twirling the bloom between his thumb and forefinger. he would very well know, given how many times he himself has died. and yet, despite that, he always finds a way back to the living. whether or not that is a good thing is arguable, of course. ❛ there is something almost beautiful about that, don't you think? ❜

[fuckedprophet-arch]

a busted lip never bothered him. bruised knuckles never seemed to bother him either, growing up spitting blood and chewing the inside of his cheek for survival put things into perspective. the gash on his chest isn't anything to balk at, its nasty and shallow but drawn across his left peck. that's what he gets for leaping in where he doesn't fit. a well placed shove earned him a broken beer bottle swiped at his chest; the cut earned the other a shattered jaw. despite the crowd forming around the fallen he manages to slip between the throng, drawing further back into the masses before he's spit out on the other side. blue eyes are wild as he presses a hand to his chest the stinging dull as he looks to the table he'd been an occupant at. his former company long since vanished and for a brief moment he's worried she's been dragged into the chaos beginning.

the sensation of nails digging into his arm starts him and he can feel the anger well in his chest, when his gaze catches ginger curls and a tall frame tugging at him toward the exit. danika. hesitation is thrown to the wind as he follows closely behind, the two slipping through the back door into the empty alley way. she gives him no time to pause as she pulling him further down the alley way beyond the dumpsters and around the corner, deeper into the night he follows without question. her nails have released him, just soft fingertips clutching at his forearm with a death grip. rounding another corner he's brought to an abrupt halt meeting her face to face, dark brows arching on his forehead at her expression. " he deserved it. "

its honest he doesn't, something about violence draws him in like a moth to a flame and without question he always answers its call. her voice catches him off guard, he was expecting a reprimand or an explosive reaction. ' hey . . . where did you get that ? ' he follows her gaze to his chest, peeling the cut fabric back to reveal the gash on his chest. " he cut me with a beer bottle. its not a big deal. "

[fuckedprophet-arch]

he'd gotten away. slipped beneath the noses of not only his band mates but the groupies who clung to his pants leg. safety could be found in the softly light bookstore, the glass windows displaying various authors and new sellers; the groupies wouldn't look for him here. he's silent as he eases through the bookshelves and their contents, blue eyes scanning each spine with a curious interest. slowly he migrates toward the mystery section, plucking different novels from their homes to read the backs. from where he stands he can see the front counter, the redhead behind it catching his attention. easing his way to the opening of the aisle he can hear the front door swing open and the bell above it jingle, and his body freezes.

' excuse me ma'am have you seen a man about this tall wearing a leather jacket? ' slowly stepping back into the aisle his gaze locks with hers, and he can feel his blue eyes widen. head shaking and practically pleading, he was hoping she'd have sympathy for him.

@entersatan liked for a starter

[brinaspellsbye]

she thinks of everyone: the importance and value of an existing human life. willing to sacrifice herself in the name of the greater good to save the world just for society to never know what was even done. the prophecy of mass destruction was set in motion ... one day set to bring hellfire upon their earth and with each passing day, the closer to it being completed. a blazing walking weapon, keeper of hellfire and queen of the pit. to touch her is to burn. SABRINA VICTORIA SPELLMAN MORNINGSTAR : witch, celestial, infernal, devil. of it all, human. it's what bound her to mortality. until that slivering light was gone, martyrdom would always be in her soul.

@entersatan : sometimes i really think you have a death wish . [ danika ]

" only when the occasion calls for it. " hand brushes over the black cat, it brings comfort after the chaos of what their night entailed. silence and peace which felt odd. the aunts leaving the two alone which was strange : [ a lingering feeling the room was booby trapped somewhere. ] " i won't let them DIE for me. "

[bezvezdnyie]

this room was a chamber,    these halls were valves,    and it all beat like a heart with the echo of voices that reverberated in tandem between sculptures and paintings.    an hour from the present, aleksandr was to be meeting a client, to discuss defence, but he had been early to their rendezvous, and the modern art exhibition at the street corner had seemed to beckon him. it was, by far, too contemporary to sway his soul; it was a pleasant passing of time nonetheless. it was not the art his gaze was drawn to, though, but rather the eerie yet captivating woman at one end of the hall with a hint of intrigue. he spared a glance at his watch. following the trail of her gaze leads to a rendition of st. michael and the dragon, nestled between iconography, venerating the saint. then, moving to stand beside her, gloved hands clasped neatly behind his back, head cants, almost inquisitively, ❝ it's an intriguing composition, and very triumphant, but rather black and white, no? ❞ he mused, an amused lilt to his tone seeming to brighten his otherwise hollow quartz eyes and apathetic demeanour. ❝ out here in the real world, there are no monsters, and no saints. ❞

STARTER CALL, @entersatan