#mortul

[dogchained]

   @mortul​

   ‘ a part of me wants to see you doing one of your jobs . ’   akibimi finds herself saying , cold gaze remaining on the street lights above them both as she speaks to the fellow contact killer .

   ‘ seeing how people kill gives me   ...   something to do . ’   something fun , in her eyes .

[crocifissione]

question:  what oddities become memorable when your life is a mosaic of strange coincidences and supernatural entities?   answer:  when they’re shrouded in ambiguity. 

do not trust your senses, lesson number one.  vision can be manipulated, yet another assortment of nerves to toy with;  silence can obscure any sound, if one is familiar with its machinations; and last, do not trust the words falling from a stranger’s lips if they spill contradictions. 

so  —-   his survival instinct demanded a critical lens: lesson number two.  what could one gain by bruising, scraping, or otherwise injuring him?  if used as an intimidation tactic, why?  would it be a clear message, sent to its receiver?  nothing has transpired yet, and still his instinct prepares for the worst.  caesar does not move from where he stands, foregoing his habit of giving his gaze time to wander, hues fixating on the only other individual passing through this slim alleyway.  his body strains with tension, hand curling into a fist, only to unfurl moments later.  his own little self-soothing tactic. 

"that... wasn’t supposed to happen." said @mortul while attempting to reattach his arm at its socket.

it should shock him, and had this occurred years before, it would have.  unfortunately, the image of a humanoid missing a limb, seemingly unharmed by his ‘injury’, wasn’t too far-fetched.  a sliver of anxiety and bewilderment flashed across his expression (eyebrows knit together and lips part, preceding no sound, no words, nothing at all), their end punctuated by little but a shudder traversing down the length of his spine.

this man wasn’t human, was he? that blasé attitude was the cherry on top, echoing an increasingly frenzied sentiment  :  what are you?

“  i imagine not.  ”  dry, apathetic, indifferent  —-  whatever cocktail of emotion swirled between those scarred ribs did not leave a single fingerprint on his words, quieted by the inevitability of … something, still anticipating the stranger’s next move.  

“  but if i may ask  …  —- what was supposed to happen?  ”

[vitrumbra-a]

@mortul asked:

“gee. thanks, buddy. it was quite educational.” @ ray (from the x-men prompts 💝)

he wasn't listening, clearly. at least every response christoph gave read as someone who had every word go in one ear and come right out the other. fucking imbecile, he had to deal with this shit. a low hum passed his throat while thumb and pointer pinched the bridge of his nose. hell, just a few more months, just a few more months, than he wouldn't have to stare at this idiot's smug face for the next ever.

just had to remember to put in a note that said oh yeah, don't hire me if this guy's name is in it, thanks. he needed to work with the government more, at least corrupted assholes knew when to be polite and shut the hell up when he was briefing.

" that so? glad it was educational. " he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms then gently waving his hand.

" what did you learn. tell me. "

[interxstitial]

"d'ya you mind if i smoke?" but he's already pulling out his gucci cigar case, anyway. (for the assortment of dialogue prompts! :D)

"actually, yeah, i do."

julien's in a bad mood, and he doesn't need the wretched stench of smoke making it any worse. he hates this city, hates the people in it, hates the constant noise of angry drivers and the inane whining from over-privileged brats. if gathering them all in one room and setting the place on fire would bring him satisfaction, he'd do it without a moment's hesitation. but burnt flesh and oxygen deprivation are nowhere near what they deserve. julien wants them to suffer like he did. it's just taking longer than he'd like. in any case, he needs to iron out the details of this job before the night ends.

"as i was saying—" (before he was so rudely interrupted.) "—if you kill anyone, i'm not paying you any more than half your fee. all i need is for you to spook them and get the information i want. is that simple enough for you?"

an assortment of dialogue prompts: ACCEPTING!

[vitrumbra-a]

ray hears christoph breathe and you can feel him just get more tired.

[scarletcursed]

@mortul liked for a starter

"you aren't from around here." tabitha's smile is far from genuine. she's the most sociable person on a good day—but, then again, she doesn't have a lot of good days. in any case, her attention is drawn to the very tall individual who's wandering around town like he's lost.

"visiting from the city, i take it?" her tone isn't exactly friendly, but her curiosity is undeniable. it isn't often that someone new wanders into this old, middle-of-nowhere town.

[steavia]

"hey, here's a question for ya--" he leans on a nearby door, and it's a little too... much, because the door's starting to slowly swing the other way. "say, hypothetically, uh..." and he's moving to grab onto the door so if it does go, he's going to go with it. "...if i had ta... oh, let's say... killoneofthemenwho'sbeenfollowingyooouuu... would ya let me do it?"

how curious. most people lydia meets aren't so direct about offers to do away with certain people. she raises her eyebrows in skepticism, disbelief, but there's enough curiosity for her to go along with this. she glances around at the men who have been following her, not wanting them to be a part of the equasion. usually, she'd just leave and hope they don't pursue her, but... well, since this gentleman offered...

"feel free to." she says this with a fair amount of confidence, almost relaxed, though she's never truly calm. "i'd rather not see it, if you do, but if that's what you were planning on doing anyways... it's not as if i'll stop you."

[lunarscaled-08152025]

-> There was nothing wrong with it if you asked them---using open space like armor. It was lighter and not nearly as noisy, and it was to be found in abundance anywhere that was intimidating enough to keep most common-sense people out, save for perhaps some overly enthusiastic teenagers that wanted to prove themselves in a test of courage. Lyric kept themselves in layers of it much the same way they wrapped all their limbs around themselves now, their necrotic insides untouchable by anyone, even Christoph ( though they're sure he wouldn't want to be sticking his hands in that. he had a gut for things more grotesque than them for certain, but they think even he would draw the line at rooting around in your friend's organs, unless they did something that really pissed him off. ) Their offhanded comment was the wrong thing to say. They can feel the way a muscle in his hand on the back of their neck twitches tense in irritation ( Lyric would accept a profound amount of terrible treatment towards themselves that Christoph would not. they approached such indiscretion with very different tactics; Lyric was sure if they kept their head down and played dead long enough, whatever was chewing them up would get bored. Christoph... they think Christoph would fight probably anything if it made him mad enough. that included other people, aaaand other people who were cruel to Lyric. Even if they were running for their lives. Even if they were only scared, too. ) before he has even disengaged himself, deep breath in and look-away.

Their head is cradled on their forearms between their knees. They do not miss the attempt at a comforting look from him, even if it doesn't last long. Of everyone here, he was the only one Lyric felt they could trust.

"Don't hit yourself. You'll scratch your eye or something."

-> A moment to set aside their despondency and grief, something in their chest twists gently when he approaches their sorrow with a delicacy: he keeps his voice in check because they flinch when he yells ( and when someone screams. it's the worst part, in their opinion, having to listen to someone shriek the whole time. underneath their humanity and mercy, something hisses at them to just shut the fuck up and die already ); he keeps his touches steady around their shoulders and does not take space or contact where it is not openly given; he tries to console them, above all else, because Lyric is the one having the harder adjustment here. They supposed it was better than being on the other end of the hook, but... they couldn't take to it. They were good at it and had no pride in that fact ( people were predictable, so of course they were. you only needed to know the chances of someone running away or the first place to hide to catch them in a corner. ) If Christoph didn't help them, they're sure the entity would have made them into a husk by now. An exhale, soothed and amused by his words, leads into the smallest impression of a smile when he mirrors their curled-up shape.

"... Do you never worry we're doing the wrong thing? I know there isn't a lot of choice, but... I think I can't help giving people the benefit of the doubt. I would be scared, if I was them."

-> They flinch a little, their posture ticking up a notch straighter at the clap on the back. Lyric gives a heavy exhale they hadn't realized they'd been holding. Peptalks did help, it seemed.

"No way, you sound totally ragged--- Probably cause you always try to talk to them when they're running around. After awhile you just start yelling and it freaks them out. Uh, but then they're so focused on avoiding you... it makes them easier for me to approach them because they aren't listening."

@mortul moved from X.