#highstrxngeness

[bchemianrhapscdy-archived]

Michael felt nervous. The entire situation was making him feel weird. Not only did he know that those witches weren’t trusting him, they made if quite clear they didn’t want him there. And definitely don’t want him to be taking the Seven Wonders test. Not even after he did the impossible. He brought Madison back, he brought Misty Day back. What else did he really need to do to make them see he was good enough? Not to mention the Warlocks that were putting a way too much pressure on him too. “I have a bad feeling about them.” Michael pointed out when he closed the door behind him. His eyes went over to meet Ford’s, a sad impression on his face. 

@highstrxngeness​​

[clairvxyxnt]

@highstrxngeness​ | From HERE

“Hiya hon!” The bell above the door rang as Lorraine walked in, her chipper voice opposing the tired eyes scanning the shelves for a moment as she approached the desk. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any Aspen Soda at all? We were just driving by and I had a real craving.” Her eyes moved back to the window, watching her husband pop the hood of their car with rolled sleeves, before turning back to the staff member. 

“And some pretzels too, he doesn’t half get mad when he’s hungry.” 

[ofvalves]

@highstrxngeness

Glitching, fragmented memories. Snow from a television screen obscuring vision, dampening sound. For a moment, the air cuts in half, and her legs are in familiar places, bound around his waist, hands reaching out for a neck that’s never touched... And then she returns, He returns. It all returns. She’s back and true to form; a motionless doll in its grip, limp until her attention brought tightly into focus.

“Resurrection beneath the stars... to trees born of God’s created year.” The black pools of Fukuro’s eyes begin to spiral, inky water draining through the center of her pupil to flash a glance of a purely human gaze -- eyes the color of trees she longed to stretch under.

How easy it is to remember his form with her. She is the hook in the eye of his being. Holding her flush to him his body fluctuates, shifts. It is a man again, though still branded on the shoulder, still the irises are a deep red, near enough black. 

His arms band around her waist, he gets lost looking in the green of her eyes for a moment. A near human smile crosses his face.

      “Anything.” He husks with ardor.

The floor is the first thing to begin shifting. The rotting tiles burst upward in a rush of fungi, moss, twisting vine and underbrush. The walls fall down like a folding theatre set, the ceiling is gone and all around them is the pitch black womb of not yet creation. 

Trees shoot upward through the new-made forest floor and sprout and rush to life at an alarming rate until the deep, dark, night forest cradles the two of them on all sides. The final touch is the red quarter moon, hanging low and beautiful in the sky.

Val pants from the exertion, sweat beads on his brow, but he cant bear to release her. When he smiles this time he is even more human.

      “How’s that?” He asks, a hand lifting to brush through her hair.

[ofvalves]

@highstrxngeness​

The pressure of Valtiel’s hand was mighty. Heavy. Too heavy. A loud crack shattered through Fukuro’s ears, pain trailblazing its way through her entire core before that mighty hand lifted and all of Fukuro felt right again. Weightless. Painless.

Her back arched, legs outstretched into familiar positions, fingers interlaced behind her, refusing movement until given permission.

“Shiny... and sweet.” Fukuro whispered, black eyes prying open to bare witness a form she revered more than God Herself. “I’ve seen so many corners... so much darkness without you...”

It laughed, lowly but warmly. The sound resonating through the floor and walls. The creature’s other hand rose to grasp the nurse beneath one thigh, lifting her as carefully and tenderly as it could despite the bruising grip.

      “My darling girl, you are forgetting that I am in all darkness.”

It’s form fluctuated again, like a glitch on an old television set. For a moment it was a handsome, muscular man. Still too big to be human. But the fidelity guttered out and the monster mostly reasserted itself.

It manipulated her jaw like a doll’s head, to turn her eyes toward his...Or where his might have been.

      “Tell me sweet one, what would you like? Where shall we go? Ask anything of me.”

[ofvalves]

@highstrxngeness

Adventure. That’s where the darkness had taken Fukuro. Whenever the Town fractured last, Fukuro could see her strings and snipped. For the first time in years, she saw faces that weren’t familiar -- gods that did not demand her worship. The illusion of choice and circumstance invigorated her. But distance did very little to block out That Call.

A booming rumble vibrated through Fukuro’s core, narrowing her world to an oppressive blackness before pulling back, pulsating. Painful. Purposeful. She could have screamed, if she wanted to -- if it wasn’t the voice of Home, welcoming her back to Silent Hill. “Daddy...” Fukuro’s own voice sounded like a layered echo of too many voices, too many relived lives.

“I’m here --” She called, the gates of darkness spitting Fukuro back out into the little room of decayed paper walls and iron bars that God had once deemed fit for her. Waiting.

The breathing walls of the hospital shivered at the new presence, a sensation stronger than a pull on a spider’s web - Valtiel was the spider, but he was also the web itself.

It seemed to him, as she returned, that there was little between them to call them distinct beings.

Doors unlocked, walls folded. The creature padded monstrous and predator like toward the small humanoid figure of the little nurse, shifting as it went, so that by the time she was within reach it resembled something like a human being, and something like a man, but it’s hand still dwarfed her face as it laid it’s palm tenderly below her chin.

Valtiel had been so long in the weave of it’s own world, it was relearning the human shape. It took practice to maintain.

      “My sweet.” It uttered in a voice like an ancient cavern where brave men venture and inevitably die. “I missed you.”

It’s grip tightened a little too much before it remembered how delicate the flesh was and released.

      “Tell me where you’ve been? Is the world exciting?”

[ofcarnvge]

@highstrxngeness

The moment O-Ren welcomed herself to sit down was the very moment that the cunning part of Gretchen’s brain seemed to stop working. Usually knowing eyes that had been well practiced in studying the environment in deliberation of her next move were now transfixed, almost dazzled by the way O-Ren’s silk robe fell over her leg just so. Gretchen was lucky her poise worked on muscle memory.

A grin that followed O-Ren’s lead spread over Gretchen’s painted red lips as she welcomed herself to a seat at the table, crossing one ankle over the other -- back straight.

“I think I’ll take you up on that drink. It’s too beautiful in here to pass up.” And she wasn’t just the loft she was talking about.

“And it smells delicious. Looks beautiful. You truly are a master at your craft.” She said, passing glances across the table and back up to the other. “Where I come from, we have this faux little small town ‘formal dinner’ competitions that all the bored housewives put together.” Gretchen gossiped, momentarily leaving out the part where she usually won.

The smile broadened on O-ren’s face and she stood up, strolling over to the counter where the bottles were.

      “Whiskey if I recall correctly? Unless you’d prefer something different, I do have saké, champagne?”

She poured herself a shot of the single malt.

Her laugh was warm but impish as Gretchen recalled the small town ritual.

      “I’m not sure why but I rather like the idea of that.” She mulled, taking a sip from the glass, still stood by the counter. 

      “I know I said I tired of formality but it’s fascinating to see on display. And frankly housewives trying to out-dinner party each other has an air of barely restrained violence that must be somewhat compelling.”

[ofcarnvge]

@highstrxngeness​

O-Ren could have left Gretchen absolutely dumbfounded in her designer heels, if the dentist weren’t so well practiced at hiding any sort of natural reactions. Breath, however, did find itself momentarily trapped in Gretchen’s chest as hazel eyes were permitted to take in the full image that had greeted her on the other side of the door. It was a powerful move, Gretchen did manage to note to herself, but she’d be lying if she said it hadn’t worked on her. To be met without a stitch of makeup and one of the most beautiful robes Gretchen had ever seen... She had to consciously stop her thoughts from getting too salacious too soon.

Thanking June politely, Gretchen stepped into O-Ren’s residence, feeling the skin on the back of her neck pleasantly bristle once the door closed behind them. Gretchen wasn’t entirely well practiced in how women courted each other outside of the those filthy, little romance novels she’d collected, but the fresh dinner and dim lighting keyed Gretchen into the possibility of a mutual interest between them.

“Oh.” Gretchen chimed, turning on her heelsl to look back at O-Ren with a manicured hand placed consciously above her breast, and her shoulders dropping in feigned guilt.

“I’m terribly sorry... I thought it’d be rude of me to call upon you without valued expectation. I was expecting us to eat at the restaurant, and I’d tell you of my ruse then, but...” Gretchen trailed off, eyes looking back at the table. “I’m now thinking you might not have minded the informality.”

O-ren sat down in one of the chairs at the dining room table and let herself sit back, her shoulders dropping, head canted to one side making a shiny curtain of black hair fall to one side. She set the wineglass down.

      “I’ll admit it’s a little forward of me. But the last time we spoke you had me at a bit of a disadvantage - I was mired in formality. Formality is the, often exhausting, backbone of my particular business.”

Her voice was low and quiet but still holding that certain polite civility she might use at a meeting. O-ren twisted the stem of the wineglass.

      “But perhaps I’ve been rude. If you’d prefer, I will gladly have everything sent down to the restaurant, I could meet you there in half an hour in my more, formal attire. Or...”

She crossed one leg over the other. Something wicked ghosted about her lips, and her eyes had a devilish gleam in the low light.

      “I could perhaps get you a drink? But I leave it entirely up to you.”

[weregonnagetyou]

Drinking starters

@highstrxngeness​​  ❝Yes, it is a big deal.❞ - Wyatt

Mia always uses the excuse that drinking is better than shooting up. Even if the drinking is excessive. She went for another drink but her glass was empty. 

“The fact that I am out of alcohol is the big deal. Not the fact that I am downing it like a champ.” She muttered, scooting the glass away from her. She went to wave down the bartender but almost stumbled off of her stool. “Aw damn.” She wasn’t totally wasted but was definitely buzzed.