#externalconceit

[templeofvengeance]

"Perhaps you're whining a little." [externalconceit]

[About this dlkfj] // @externalconceit

"It is not whining to demand respect from my avatar!" Khonshu yelled, stomping his staff. "I have given him life, rescued him from death multiple times, and he would insult me to my face! Would you not object if one of your dogs did such a thing!?"

[niratias]

@externalconceit

"Animal testing serves a vital pharmaceutical function. Your feelings have nothing to do with it. Do you realize how often we deal with this conversation already? You're boring me." Sivana's no bleeding heart. He is wearing fur in front of her, openly. He didn't choose to do that on purpose, mind, but he's not about to go change to avoid confrontation.

Envy and Pride are presently in intense debate as to which of them likes Shar more. They can't decide. Sivana's scowl is dagger-sharp.

"Surely you have better ways to spend your time than crashing a board meeting. I'm the one that's supposed to do that- not you."

[wrldofhassle]

@externalconceit

"Release my grandson from your clutches harlot!" "Fuck off."

[doorinthefloor-a]

Ma'am, I'm just trying to constantly die live.

[positivelybeastly]

[from externalconceit]

The envelope appears with a little 'poof!', filling Hank's lab with the scent of cider and cinnamon. ... And something beyond mortal comprehension that's kind of like the best cheese in the universe aged in the brine of fairy tears. Inside:

Nearby, Tess glances up from whatever she's doing, nostrils flaring as she regards him in that 'I know everything' way of hers.

"Don't do it, Hank. I don't want to have to tell your parents you died doing something stupid on Halloween."

The sheer cloud of smell overwhelms Hank, and what's probably meant to be a fun little piment de la vie has him coughing and spluttering - he likes cider, he likes cinnamon, he likes cheese, if that's what he's smelling, but all of it, released as though by some kind of intangible stink bomb? He's waving his paw through the air and hoping to god that this isn't going to persist in his nose, fur, or, heaven forfend, his clothes.

Naturally, Tess sees him struggling, and appears to decide that if he doesn't take this as a warning, then, well, he's going to earn whatever happens to him, and then she's going to have to pick up the pieces. His pieces, most likely.

Hank has to admit, as he brings up a handkerchief to wipe at his watering eyes, she may well have a point.

"In fairness, Tess, you're probably going to have to tell my parents that I died doing something stupid at some point, so why not Halloween?"

He gives her a wry smile, dragging his thumb over the paper, appreciating the fine choice of stationery and the embossing on the words, even as he reflects that this is, yes, a terrible idea. There's definitely something all together off about this Shar woman.

. . . But. Hank's made a life out of poking things that are off with a stick, so, why should this be any different?

He'll go. And Tess will get to say 'I told you so.' Win-win, surely.

[spiderman2-99archived]

The blonde sort of--interjects herself through a tear in reality. (A tear she makes, but that's another issue.) Her head sticking in Miguel's office and the rest of her disappearing into the weird, ripply void behind her, Shar says in all earnestness: "I am also not attracted to you." [externalconceit]

Miguel, leader of the spider society and semi-respected figurehead, does NOT get startled and scream like Steven Grant in the duat a little girl when he sees a totally shocking different type of portal and a disembodied head coming out of it.

This is not the first, not the second, not the thousandth time he's wished he had spider-sense.

After his heart settles into a... slightly more normal rate, all he can say in reply is a frazzled "What?!"

[horroreverent]

@externalconceit

Blood had come from him on horse's hooves. A long, crimson marked path of destruction had fallen across the Carpathian mountains, and all had come from the commanding hand of the new, young Count who had recently usurped his fathers claims. Long had they been a county confined to defensive measures from warring outside nations, but under the iron fist of their great new Lord, the tides had turned to advancement. For something unnatural seemed to follow them. The weather itself seemed to turn against the people, the rain turning to hail, the lightning catching the trees. All who stood before his conquering army had found that the laws of nature had turned against them. Wolves drug off the wounded. Rats swarmed the grain mills, leaving those who sought to outlive a seige giving themselves over to the Count's cruel mercies before facing starvation. Slowly, inch by inch, rival lords and other factions fell beneath the bootheel of this elusive, dark conqueror--this Solomanari. This Practicer of Dark Magicks.

Though, there was resistances. Always of some kind. What they had not expected, after so many conquests of good luck, was one of equal stature facing them on opposite ends of the battlefield. Whole masses of men, seemingly destroyed in fell swoops. Unheard of! Unseen!! Many more might have fallen underneath the destruction if not for the luck of a singular bowman, with arrow flung high, that had pierced this sorcereress to death.

If only she had stayed dead.

Now, with her chained and bound, this mysterious woman had been brought before the dark Count from his camp behind the borders of soldiers. The tent, lavished in rich, ornate furs, and a large warm firepit in the center, seemed oddly welcoming from the otherwise cold, frigid temperatures outside. Yet, the man who's at feet she was thrown hardly reflected the warm atmosphere, his aura instead looming as frozen as the wind that blew outside. He looked up from the papers at his desk, piercing eyes instantly locked on her, and a deep rumble of annoyance reverberated in his chest.

<This witch is who slaughtered half your men.> respectfully muttered in a foreign tongue one of the guards who brought her in. <We thought her dead. Yet, still she lives, your lordship.>

An irritated huff escaped the Count as he turned his chair to look down at the woman entirely, then proceeded to stand up. He hitched a thumb into the loose top loop of his sash and looked down at her.

"What is your name?" He rumbled in a deep voice, more reminiscent of a bear growl than a human.

[mistcken-a]

@externalconceit

Shar and Victoria

All the fucking rain in this country was the bane of her existence. Well, that and the Saxon's. They had seemed to find their way over here after the Roman's, and just laid their homes down. Rude as well, she had a particular distaste for all those men who seemed to think they ruled the world. Attacked those who were different with swords and every manner of weapon they could muster, and now these bastards from Normandy are certainly no different.

Well, they hadn't been anyway. Now there was but a mess of puddles and piles about her, some ashen ancient bones, others men unborn, all beside weapons rusted to near nothing, or raw steel and iron that had so much unwritten potential.

Her eyes falter to the fresh presence, an inkling of something hitting her mind, and accordingly? A smile pushes itself to her soft features.

"I hope these weren't friends of yours?"