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'The Hounted House' by Howard Pyle, 1904.

@hounted

∇ıllı˚ ── This little run-in, it was a long time coming. Seven years had left the corporate president pent-up, unsatiated and obsessive. It was clear the moment he'd heard the news of the radio demon's return that all of the suspense was pushing him well over some invisible edge with anticipation, all of which had him feeling more than ready to deliver his most smug and over-confident greeting, if and when fate would allow. And it seemed that serendipitous moment was now.

He fixed his cuffs, smoothly slid his hands to re-adjust his coat lapels and then bow-tie, all the while wearing a grin and an accompanying eyebrow, arched high.

∇ıllı˚ ── "Well, well, well, guess it really was only a matter of time, wasn't it? Here you are back at my doorstep." A self-indulgent and somewhat foul intentioned laugh reverberated in his throat. Yes, he had entertained this scenario plenty of times over in his mind. Actually, several scenarios but who was counting. With the table's having finally turned and the former top charting broadcaster begging for his acknowledgement. The taste of triumph would be sweet. Succulent, personal triumph. Already the thought alone, tantalizing as it was, conjured him only grand illusions, "That big to-do you made walking away from my generous offer, all of the time that's passed, wasted, and all for what, where did it lead you? Oh, that's right—back to me!"

#muse!vox #hounted

@hounted

While in the middle of using a dry erase board to draw out quick, simplified diagrams and write notations to aid in explaining a few new concepts to Twice, he'd noticed the room's vibrations shift; someone approached a door, their steps halting just short of walking into the room, his feathers picked up on smallest changes, even with the doors being at the back of the room.

It seemed someone had taken up listening in and possibly watching. The so-called hero remained as cool as ever, unphazed, finishing up the notation he'd been writing out, the marker squeaking each time it streaked across the board while he contunied writing out the neccessary characters with his back turned.

Once he was done he turned towards his 'student' with a sly side-glance and smirk.

"I guess there's always a spot for me as some kind of instructor~" he joked, partially deadpanned and hinging on sarcasm.

#muse!hawks #hounted #[and here's something for your active bnha muses~!]#[up to you who choses to join in]#[btw I am always up for plotting or switching muses if you got ideas!]

For: @hounted

A knock on Dabi’s door echoes through the League’s hideout. At the moment it seemed to be a rather empty and eerie place except for the two of them, and that was becoming a problem. Keigo rolls his eyes and it wasn’t long after he got no response before he knocked again. Still… no answer as he ruffles his crimson feathers, knowing very well Dabi is in there. He sighs, the smell of burnt fibre and cigarettes clear from the other side of the door. So he knocks again.

“Dabi, i know you’re not one to be punctual but-..” He says against a closed door as he tries to keep his annoyed feathers still. “This is even testing my almost endless patience. Watcha doing in there anyways, huh?” The undercover hero crosses his arms to stop himself from knocking again.

Having known Dabi for a short while know, he’d just bust the door into the others face. And yes, maybe it was suspicious of the avian hero to be so uptight, maybe it was something he hadn’t been able to shake from his years of training. Maybe he just wanted to keep an eye on the other. Either way the aloofness of the other was noticeable every minute of every hour.