#mxnstrxsities

[historiesandmemories]

starter for @mxnstrxsities​‘s Cymbiir

Diplomatic mission were terribly exciting. They brought new worlds, new people, and new foods. Delancourt could hardly keep the giddiness she felt to a respectable level as she stepped into the court of this foreign kingdom; Queens did not skip and frolic in the palaces of those they sought to make new alliances with, her advisers had made that exceedingly clear. So her steps were measured, her smile serene, and her crowned head held high. Yet, beneath it all, she was practically vibrating.

Delancourt and her retinue reached the front of the room and the young queen looked up to the throne where the royal she was coming to connect with sat. “Thank you for welcoming me and my people into your court,” she said, “I am sure it will be a warm and productive visit that results in friendship and mutual alliance.” Or so she hoped. 

[mylittlegeekery]

@mxnstrxsities

      continuing from: x

The former surgeon shook his head. “I barely know anything about you. You’ve given me the barest minimum,” Abel uttered, saying the thoughts that were at the forefront of his mind. There was really no point in keeping quiet about what he was feeling. “Hell, you can do a Google search and my tale replayed several times over.”

He flicked a hand in the air for emphasis. “What are you avoiding because I’ve eaten human tissue, happily murdered people when I was brainwashed into thinking I was a serial killer, instead of the victim of a well orchestrated plot of a demon cannibal. Whatever it is, it can’t be that terrible. So with that in mind, I am going to ask... Who are you?”

[mactirefireann]

@mxnstrxsities

It was proving to be one of those nights. Gregory had wished so badly he wouldn’t disturb Connor, but it proved to be impossible.

Even when he tried to stifle his sobs, he wasn’t quiet enough.

“I..I can’t..”

Words barely float through the sobs as Gregory lays his head low and allows tears to spill freely. He’s long since understood he can’t hold them back anymore. Not when he hears their whispers of dishonor and shame in his dreams. Not when he see’s his herd moving on without him, deep into the woods somewhere he can’t find.

Not when he sees his daughter telling him she doesn’t love him anymore.

“It wasn’t my fault…” Greg whispers, lips trembling as he tries to hold it together, but the memories hit him harder. Punishment is pure torture. “I’m so sorry…please don’t leave me..”

The situation didn’t hit Connor until he realized Gregory’s face was shining in the dull light, and then his heart immediately dropped into his stomach. He hadn’t the faintest idea what sort of dark thoughts were plaguing Greg’s mind in that moment, but his body automatically reacted by kneeling beside him and pulling him close and tight.

At least for Connor, nothing was better in times of fear than having safe arms to fall into.

Swallowing hard, though, he was having difficulty finding the right words to say. They’d never talked about either of their pasts before, and it wasn’t a good time to try and delve into deep territory. Not when there were still wounds that bled like this. Connor just breathed slowly and ran his fingers through Greg’s hair.

    “Yer safe. Just keep breathin’, Greg.      I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

[paramounticebound]

@mxnstrxsities​ || cont. 

He was falling forever, it seemed, the air rushed around him, blanketed him; he rested on it like it was his finale. It was. It always had to be. What he knew was that the brook would never let him go– just as he would never let it go, an eternal punishment for his selfishness. Longing to drown, as much as a ghost could long for anything, and damned to float unlike his son. The sky ought to fall with him– eternal, in melancholic design– but he was alone. Cold, eternal, and alone with sobs that still wrecked his rib cage, still marred his throat like shards of glass.

So compelled by his grief, he hardly notices her approach. Humans often did, this far into the woods, and if they weren’t vigilant, he’d drag them into the waters, blinded by his grief– young, dark-haired children that resembled his son were especially prone, though his madness did not discriminate. Other times, he’d just barely register a mortal presence before they fled, panic flowing throw their veins, now certain of the legends told to them as children.

This time, whether from spectral intuition or something else, Khan felt a different presence. Inhuman, at the very least, and entirely foreign to him. Sobs lessened as she neared, and for the first time in a century, he could focus on something aside from his grief. Words were strange and distant, while he understood them, though the comfort behind them hardly effected him. Finger deep into the soil, near the flowing waters, pressed further down to maneuver himself to face her. Still kneeling, fresh tears slipping down the contours of his cheekbones, lips cracked and throat sore.

As the cloud of his punishment lifted, he was allowed to contemplate once more, a sense of self emerging from the broken shell of a father. So many questions, muted against the ever-present thoughts of his son, and only one was allowed to pass over his lips. “Who are you? How can you-- be near me?”

[mischiefandnightmares]

New follower! mxnstrxsities

@mxnstrxsities​

Fey was perched on a tree, resting after a long day of causing mischief and havoc. It was a cool night and the cold air made her pixie like wings twitch. The sprite let out a sight before looking up to the night sky, for some reason star gazing always seemed to calm her down. But her attention was drawn to something on the ground below.

[warringpeace]

STARTER for @mxnstrxsities​‘ amaya muse: l.ucifer | verse: s1

Lux was where humans of all shapes and sizes tended to gather for a good time. All of them of age, naturally, so the sudden influx of giggling girls on the dance floor didn’t strike him as odd. If anything, he smirked over the rim of his glass as he watched them move to the sultry beat that was blasting from the speakers. He was just about to go for a second refill when he froze, sensing something...strange. Even Maze had sensed it, as she’d whipped out her angel blade and flicked it into her palm. “No. I don’t think they’re here for that,” he murmured, lifting a hand to keep her from flinging it into the crowd. He scanned the room twice until his gaze landed on one of the newcomers, an eyebrow lifting as he noted the achingly familiar features.

[historiesandmemories]

@mxnstrxsities​/ welcome strater

Delancourt drummed her fingers over the hard top of her notepad and watched the clock hands on their slow journey around the clock. Visiting archives had been the theme of the week. She’d been in search of documents on dark matter work, much of which was apparently hard to get to. So she’d been sent from one archive to another, held on endless phone class as archivist after archivist tried to see what documents had what releases and if they matched her research needs. Usually, the answer was, they didn’t and she was once again out of luck.

But then, she’d been given a tip and ended up here...wherever here really was. She’d been sitting in a rather uncomfortable plastic chair, her notepad folded into her lap, her backpack at her feet, and the growing wish that she’d brought a jacket despite her almost full length sleeves. But she needed to find these papers. She needed to understand what Fritz Zwicky had done.

As someone entered the room, Delancourt took to her feet, cradling her notebook against her chest. “Hello!” she beamed, “Are you Avina Lu?” The name came hesitantly, as if she was uncertain about its pronunciation. “I’m Delancourt. I called about some papers?”

[mactirefireann]

@mxnstrxsities

Everyone was further in the greenhouse today, their spirits high and laughing at jokes whilst drinking whatever poison they enjoyed individually. Amaya herself simply drank hot water with honey, listening and observing rather than participating too much. Hidden away in the foliage, flowers, fruits, and vegetables alike: Amaya even had her own herb corner.

But as a lull presents itself, she notices something. A feeling, a sensation…someone else, like her, is here. She excuses herself and wanders through the greenhouse, a personality all its own, living in its own way. Amaya loved it because of that, and she stayed here as often as she could when she wasn’t working.

It was a sanctuary in a way. One of very few places.

Turning a corner, she finds the entryway welcoming a newcomer, sampling the green beans.

“Hey, welcome.” Amaya says, a joyous smile coming to her lips. “You beat us to it, it’s harvesting day anyways. How are they?” She asks, feeling that presence growing stronger, drawing her nearer.

At first, Connor froze, nearly choking on the half-chewed bean. It didn’t take him long to recover once he realized that the person who approached him wasn’t ready to reprimand him for trespassing. He gave a quiet, subtle cough before swallowing and smiled awkwardly at first.

    “Oh, they’re lovely."

He folded his hands tightly in front of himself; it was a habit he picked up so he wouldn’t nervously pick at his skin.

    ”I have a great nose for sniffin’ out      fresh vegetables. These are perfect.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders with the energy she was giving off-- and then he realized that exactly. He inhaled, not letting his smile falter, and he came to notice that she didn’t smell like average people. She didn’t have a natural scent of skin oils or added perfumes. Whatever shampoo she used smelled awesome, though.

    “Uh, s-sorry for inviting myself in.      I’m Connor. I really like plants.”

He extended a very warm hand to her as a greeting.