#looking-for-legends

[entitys-hunting-dog]

A thick white mist surrounds the area, within it, a voice- thousands of stolen, demented voices all ring out, "I s e e y o u." - a lurker

{ @looking-for-legends }

It pauses in its wandering through the foggy forest, looking around curiously at the multitude of noise. They sound like prey, a lot of them. It glances around, extending its senses out as much as it can into the mist. The prey is weak in that they must face it to sense it; it works by simply thinking to where it’s smelled and heard the prey. Here the sound comes from all around, so it sweeps its thoughts around it like a beam of light.

[facesofthefog]

Unseen danger

[drowned-lament]

☺ - @looking-for-legends

☺ stroke your muse’s cheek/face 

{@looking-for-legends}

Saibhe’s gotten used to having Jordan around, and what’s more is that she’s learned to enjoy it. Part of her still feels guilty over the deception she’s had to perform, not to mention the event that forced that deception-- but thankfully, that starts to sting less as they continue to meet up without a trial pitting the two at odds again. Sometimes the air is cheerful, and they reminisce and joke and trade stories. More often, the air is calm and quiet between them, savoring the rare stillness of the moment.

One night, in an unbroken string of nights, Saibhe comes out of her home to see Jordan crumpled against the wall of a nearby building, head in her hands. The sight of fear is all too gut-wrenchingly familiar, and in a moment Saibhe is at her side, a hand on her shoulder. The survivor has a new wound across one shielded arm, choking back pained tears and breathing ragged and panicked.

“Jordan? H-- Careful, dear, I’m h-here, I’m here.” Saibhe leans forwards, moving her hand to the side of the nomad’s dirt-painted face and gently lifting it to meet her gaze. “What happened?”

[facesofthefog]

oh Samuel do I have some juicy information for you my friend. A certain somebody new to the fog has already started fraternizing with the killers. Not to mention she's awfully rude when it comes to trials. Do try to avoid a somewhat tall, blonde haired woman. She's the reason you were tricked by that lanky creature in the first place.

[Send my muse manipulative Anons: Accepting]

The survivor rubbed at the back of his neck, looking away from the note. Why would anybody have bad blood with him? If he never met the new survivor, why would she want to cause him harm? A shudder runs through his body at the thought of the newest creature. A being of true nightmare, something he wished to never see again. Unfortunately for him, he’d have to go against it in trials. 

“I am not sure why she would do that... If she came over to talk about the issues, I would gladly try and help her through it... Did the Entity make a mistake when forcing her into the role of a survivor?” 

[drowned-lament]

29. What is your favorite expletive? - looking-for-legends

“--Oh?” The question drew a little surprised blink from Saibhe, followed by a quiet laugh. “I s-- I see, you’re curious if the g-- the God-fearing cailín made a hab... h-- If she secretly cursed like a sailor, hmm? Well, I tried not t-t-- ...Speaking wasn’t oft a hobby anyways,” she clarifies. “But, around less respectf-- respectful, less respectful company... I g-- uhm, I got used to c-calling out a f-- a few rowdy sons of bitches--” She broke off here, laughing at herself a little. “Only, only at-t th- the docks, mind!”