#moldecay

[herends]

her side is resting against the doorframe, peering into the infirmary —— she holds her cigarette out of the door, never really coming in. might be symbolic of her, this love of thresholds and never stepping one way or another. “ you good ? ”, she asks, nodding as the nurse leaves his side: she’s wary, no particular inflection in her voice. it’s not personal —— trust is a hard earned privilege, within the walls of atlas. “ if you’re good to take a walk, i can show you around. we could use some more hands at work —— you any good with crops ? ” —— @moldecay​.

[vcrtigoes-a]

@moldecay​ sent  /   ❝ i mean, i don’t want to impose… but i’m bleeding profusely. ❞

“ ...  i can see that, yeah. ” 

mike’s expression can only be described as unperturbed, eyebrow lifted and half-lidded eyes flicking from ethan’s pale grimace to the blooming red that had already seeped an impressive crimson stain across what had presumably started as an off-white shirt. there was a beat of silence, where he remained simply leaning against the doorframe, weighing the fuss it risked raising were he to simply shut the door and let the man continue to bleed there on the steps. 

did he realize what time it was? certainly, mike hadn’t exactly been asleep, but it made it no less of a burden.

“ you know, archivist, if you really didn’t want to impose, you wouldn’t be here. ” wholly too casual an observation, perhaps, but it pairs with a low, suffering breath of alright as he stepped back to allow the man to stumble his way across the threshold. “ have a seat. i’ll find something.” frankly, he had half a mind to request he at least try to refrain from bleeding on everything as he did so, if he thought it wouldn’t make for the temptation to do so even more purposeful.

“ were you followed? ” deft fingers twist the deadbolt shut the moment the door closed, the question finally contains at least some sense of urgency to it, even if presumably not for ethan’s behalf. “ - honest and direct answers, please, it’ll save us both a lot of effort in the long run. ”

[monstrums]

moldecay  said:  ‘ got to hand it to you: guess you don’t scare easy, do you? ’

        “wouldn’t be much of a body guard if i did, would i?“ he was cleaning out the barrel of his handgun, and he’d probably look more threatening if he wasn’t such a passively aggressive man.. ethan was someone aaron didn’t fully understand, but didn’t question, either. everyone had their own demons, and aaron was content as long as nobody tried to pry into his life, and vice versa. “i'm a vet, man. i’m not sure anything not involving my kid could scare me anymore.” nothing in the world seemed scarier than the possibility of losing olivia, but he didn’t feel like spilling his guts to ethan -- especially not with two glasses of whisky in his system.

[vintneress]

𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃,   every step on the floorboards is agonizing, the slightest creak amplified in the silence. adrenaline was one hell of a drug. shallow breaths in and out through pursed lips as he slowly crosses the room back toward the door, pistol pressed against his thigh like one would press a rosary cross into their palm. the knob turns and the door opens just enough to see that immediately outside is clear. without waiting a moment, ethan ducks through into what he believed was safe... only for eyes to lock onto a very familiar foreboding figure.  “ fuck. ”

   ❝  STAY RIGHT THERE!  ❞   thunders lady dimitrescu’s resonant voice.   her enraged sneer folds deep ridges into the pale grey,  faintly cracked skin of her visage.   her wrist flicks,  and with a muted sound like knives piercing buttery flesh,  man-sized blades emerge from her gloved fingertips.   ❝  you’ll never escape,  ethan winters!   your debts will be repaid!  ❞   lady dimitrescu lunges forward on impossibly long legs,  and her arm sweeps out from above to strike ethan with her claws.   a fierce and guttural growl tears at her throat.   ❝  my sweet bela will rest easy when i rend your head from your shoulders!  ❞   alcina again drives her arm out at him in a jabbing motion.

[huntraise]

    ❛  you  good,  dude?  ❜  he  doesn’t  want  to  be  rude,  manners  are  important  and  all.  you  look  like  shit  seems  like  it  may  be  a  bit  rude.  especially  towards  someone  he’s  not  familiar  with.  he  takes  a  moment  to  think  of  his  wording,  ❛  you  look  tired  as  fuck.  like  -  have  you  heard  of  a  nap?  ❜

@moldecay​​  ❤​

[mohlinas]

your fave is problematic zoe edition: made me watch jatp and now i am permanently ruined <3

ME? 👉👈

[vcrtigoes-a]

@moldecay sent  / “fuck’s sake, what’s your problem?” 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑒 / open

his gaze is impassive as he watches the man struggle: the shifting in obvious discomfort, blunt nails trying and failing to find anything solid against his neck to constrict his airflow. the oxygen of the room lingered precariously thin, frigid, something found on a mountaintop and threatening only to waiver. the gritted out question in spite of it, almost is enough to mike laugh, a dead, dry thing. almost. 

“taking advantage of my hospitality to try to make me into a meal is poor form, don’t you think?” when mike opted to finally answer, it was deliberately casual, leaning back in his seat.

“need i remind you that you are a guest. now, if you’d like a little bit of advice, beholder, i would suggest picking how you phrase your next question very carefully.” a small smile, almost too pleasant to be genuine. (it was.)  nevertheless, breathable air would trickle gradually back into the room, grip upon strained lungs easing if only to determine if the archivist deserved it.