#fcrgivemefather

[thecosmicsen]

*   :   reckoning with @fcrgivemefather​ who ♡’d this  !!

he feels it.  the visible shift in auras of the mysterious third party who enters the dreary and drab toilets that is characterised by its mirrorless walls.  there is a name for the uncanny change in air that is right on the tip of his tongue but he struggles to describe the phenomenon that lacks supernatural sense in his case.  since he is lounging in the last cubicle of the toilets,  legs swinging off as he sits on top of the flush with a BORED expression,  he cannot see the face of the new entrant who takes the cubicle next to his.  mere minutes ago,  another silly human had attempted to summon Jaewoo without a wish in mind and immediately balked upon seeing the fact that the urban toilet legend truly did manifest like the rumours stated.  the banshees,  he likes to call the people who scream hysterically and run out after seeing his perfectly innocent expression.

but this is not his banshee who had fled although Jaewoo is waiting around,  idly seeing if there is an off chance she may return to reaffirm that his existence is true.  no.  this is someone else who seemingly has staked out his location since he can’t hear the audible hints that they are busy doing their business.  the corners of his lips immediately downturn in a stern grimace.  

floating inches off from the ground,  he cautiously peeps his head around from the toilet cubicle’s door before hovering in front of the occupied one.  slamming a foot down for a particularly loud THUNK,  he settles both feet on the ground before clearing his throat.  rapping his knuckles for a harsh knock,  he barks out a faux gleeful statement that any ordinary member of the public has no coherent answer for,  “  HELLO  ?  ”

[sabbatied]

@fcrgivemefather 

“If you’re here for something than I suggest you leave.” Ashes tapped into the tray, Enea need not even turn around to know it’s a stranger. He’s possessive of his space, whether it’s an issue to Tzimisce or to Koldun, any intruder was an intruder too many. Almost felt bad for the time he scared the postal worker on his door step, almost. Rising to his feet, he’d turn on his heel to face the stranger. A priest, now isn’t that ironic.

“This isn’t a museum, or a tomb to be raided for some occult collection.”

[mirroars]

“It isn’t safe here at this time of night.”

late night wandering sentence starters (accepting)

"No?" Aster asks. He makes a face like of course and tuts. “Puts the coral to one’s cheeks, doesn’t it?" 

The moon is terribly full. Someone took a pair of scissors and cut a hole into the night, and now there's entirely too much of the silver stuff everywhere, spilling out onto the empty cobbled streets. The rosebushes. Into this man's far, faraway eyes. He has a priest’s collar, snowy white. Aster sees it glow in the light.

Someone’s died very, very close, two holes to the neck. Their eyes glaze empty.

"I expect you’re wondering, ‘Who is that fellow out in the late? Possibly a toothy thing sniffing for the ruby?’ Possibly, Father. Very possibly,” he mucks, going on as though he’s making a case for himself. Aster is careful not to step out of the clear wash of moonlight. "But see here: Not a tooth to be found.” 

Indeed, his teeth are clear, and not one of them fanged or dripping.