#mercifangs

[debutafin]

( ✱ @mercifangs: continued. )

ㅤ said rabbit ears droop, big eyes looking for any meaning behind that beauty. she didn't realize vampires preferred somewhere among the trees⸻ it's damp, twigs scrape against her legs with every step, she had to hold her heels as barefeet trek further toward such a grand looking building. it's crowded, too, way more different than the open seas of sand she was used to.

ㅤ but this was no doubt, assuredly, really a vampire, just like nepheline. in a dress that reflects the moonlight, symmetrical, & smelling of human blood... her heart'd beat through her chest if she'd let it.

ㅤ but she said an answer that nepheline hadn't anticipated. a welcome not granted⸻ she doesn't sense a yet behind her words either. she licks her lips, tongues the space where her lip was lost. "iunno." it's a mumble, she looks to the side, down at the mud on her feet... it's wet & cold. "you a vampire jus' like me. i thought bein' the same is more beautiful."

[murmursdraconic]

My dash did something ominous

[belovedbelmonts]

@mercifangs from here

His expression contorted at the same rate warping solid wood did. As the neat rows and columns began to veer impossibly, his brow furrowed tightly 'til his scrutiny was all bunched together above his nose. He blinked a few times, perhaps a few times more than he'd need to when deciding whether he believed what he was seeing or not, before realisation finally struck.

As her eyes landed on his, he returned the look with a sharp one. Piercing, focused, rather than the sort of effortlessly-hazy thing Clemency had going on.

At least the tension of confusion melted away from his face somewhat when he caught-on to her little game. It was rare for a vampire would use hypnosis for something as menial as this... but then again, most vampires he'd known never lasted long enough to try.

"--Thought I smelled burning toast." Came the sardonic reply and half-joke. That seemed to be his sort of humour: dry and not trying very hard.

He wouldn't just call her out on the manipulation outright; where was the fun in that? Instead, he'd do his damndest to make sure his little bishop hit its mark... starting by dragging his finger up the side of the chessboard and muttering the number under his breath. Then, in the same grueling fashion, he'd drag his finger across the board, doing the same thing.

Then, before settling on a spot, he reconvened in his mind palace to try and picture what a not-fucked-up Chess board looked like and whether or not he was making the right move.

He wasn't.

... But he could feel a headache coming on and finally, finally, decided to place the piece.

"Rook to C5. I'll just brute-force my way out of this mess or I'll lose trying! I was never too good at this game."

[atrocitatis]

continued from here . @mercifangs .

ㅤfrankly, she doesn't care much that clemency is displeased — she can fround all she wants, jacks couldn't sincerely care any less. the cigarette is adjusted between her lips as she takes a long inhale. something to maybe, hopefully, keep her patience in check. ㅤ" as if i give a shit. " she shrugs, some of the smoke leaving her lips with the words. " he looks atcha like a piece o'meat. he should have been long gone by my standards. " ㅤthose are always the ones that last the least, often gone on the very first night should they have arrived in the early morning, which often is the case. jacks can't stand this kind of man, it makes her skin feel itchy. sometimes she wishes being alergic to men was a real, medical thing... but she doesn't voice that thought. ㅤ" ya better hurry, then. my patience runs thin, and it was never known to be a lot, either. "

[atrocitatis]

their coat pockets; their loose papers.

ㅤ( TAKE A LOOK AT MY MUSE * )

her coat pockets :

jacks does not wear a coat most times, save for when it gets really cold during the winter at the farm. she doesn't carry much in her pockets, just a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, the keys to the car, maybe some chapstick.

her loose papers :

there are always stacks of messy papers in the old desk at the farm, things that aren't even hers, stuff that belonged to the grouchy old man that once pointed the gun she now carries at her, but there is a corner for her things there. budgets, ingredient lists, recipes she is missing steps for.

[debutafin]

" show me what you've been working on. " for miss aphid 🪲

( ✱ @mercifangs: making demands. )

ㅤ aphid's eyes flutter⸻ stopping her heart from beating out of her chest. a palm— sized notepad twists away from prying eyes... but she takes a deep breath & slowly reveals its pages.

painting? allow others to paint on me, try to mirror what they did on the other half of my body 🦋

ㅤ handwriting scrawls as ideas rush to be put on the page, her face flushes, "i— it's like... a d— d— diary, miss. i'll forget if i don't... write it down." ... words mumble like the words on the page. she's quick to pull it back toward her chest once she felt sufficient time passed.

[magnamedicina]

their closet; the place they never let anyone look.

ㅤ( TAKE A LOOK AT MY MUSE * )

her closet :

her closet is very well organized, both by season and colour, as well as type of article of clothing. besides that, there are also some boxes with old things she can't bring herself to throw out or doesn't have the space to display. at the very back of the closet, however, sits a small, velvet box that once belonged to her mother. cain has never dared to open it.

the place she never lets anyone look :

there is a room in the basement that hardly anyone has set foot into: the laboratory. it's a secluded place, reforced with an iron door that only locks from the outside, a place where the doctor is often in even when cain is not around. if she could, she would forget that it exists, she would avoid setting foot in a place that does not bring her good memories. the last place where she ever saw something resembling megan is a place that she doesn't want to be in.

[belovedbelmonts]

@mercifangs from here

He's disgusted, enraged, and the fuel that stokes the fire is his inability to carry out his duty rather than the betrayal he'd always seen coming. She closed the distance between them with dizzying speed, so that she could see the moment his face twisted from the exertion of sending forth that whip to his indignation at her being in his space.

He couldn't hesitate again, and she was insistent on remaining close to him...

So he ducked.

With a growl, he shoved his arms up against hers and shot out to the side. He just needed enough space to release the knife in his coat from its sheath, falling onto one knee as he did so and turning back around with the silvery point jabbed in her direction. If she rushed at him like before he'd at least be prepared to cut, but he'd much rather being afforded the time to stand and prepare himself.

"I was a coward, madame, but now I'm justified in showing you the consequences of your foolishness!"

He spat the last line out with more heart than the rest of it, his upset finally working through his mind and showing itself in his words.

Clemency had never not been a wild animal to him. Disappointed in himself as he was to think it, he knew he couldn't settle in her presence nor expect anything more of her than to someday feed. That was the nature of these unholy things; deemed evil for a reason. He wanted to believe in the nuance of all things that had free will, but he was sorely proven wrong time and time again.