#mythsought

[marksof-weakness]

a comprehensive list of scenarios

mythsought asked:

REUNION (after ophir returns from hell maybeeeee)

REUNION :  for one muse to run into the other again after a long time.

The entirety, sans the personal living quarters, has been once again seen to. The floor-to-ceiling curtains have been steamed, as so the flooring. Perfumed with favored scents by the bar’s owner, and those recommended from Nero’s friend’s pamphlet (What were his name? Russian for Bear, wasn’t it?). The stools have been polished, as the bar’s table top. The cushions and comfortable, welcoming niceties have been lightly freshened. The Neon signs outside checked for and received maintenance, where necessary. The unused alcohol left as such, save for the smallest, most insignificant portion poured over ice, allowed to be diluted. The food exchanged, outdated things thrown away, or fed to strays. Replaced with fresh-made things as per Nero’s insistence... The shot glass being examined for water spots when the sound of a door clicks shut. A presence well (wretchedly) known returning, and every hair upon Vergil’s skin raised with alarm.

....not that he would greet them. Not pleasantly, anyway. “Someone finally decided to show up after all...”

[devilxhunted]

@mythsought​ said:  ❛  i  did  it  all  to  make  you  love  me  and  to  feel  alive .  ❜ HAVE SOME GAY ANGEL IN UR LIFE plastic hearts lyric starters // accepting!

“You really like me as much as all that, huh?” He could almost laugh at the thought; that something so pure, so holy and blessed with light, would ever find his existence worth the trouble. The cool color of his eyes didn’t dare to meet Raziel’s piercing, vibrant blues that bore into him. Like a hot blade, they sunk past the smiling exterior and reached into the cavern of his heart, deeper into his soul. They saw him for who he was, and he felt so bare and exposed, as though his entire being was laid out before the other.

It made him shiver as much as it made him warm.

“And do you think I love you?” He does, for his heart would stutter and sing when those careful hands touched him tender, so filled with that selfless love that fed his empty stomach warm and full. “Do you feel alive?” And he certainly prayed that it was so, as he couldn’t take disappointing yet another.

[marksofwoe]

                                           @mythsought asked:

                ( random emotional starters )

"i can handle this. trust me! " HAVE A MAGIC MAN MEKHI TOO LOL

“I -” so he claims, bidding the unfurling creature as one would some untamed stallion. For once Griffon, too, is held speechless for the sheer absurdity of the situation, seeing its great and many wings flaring as claw and hoof and else this monstrosity has chosen to represent toss and slam around. Delayed, it takes Griffon a few moments before none too quietly to ask just What in the Fuck was going on - Shadow, ever more reliably, transports him out of dodge and ever closer. A winged beast of hell or otherwise did not matter when such destruction were being wrought. And V, himself, cannot find the will to intervene.

“A pet of yours, perchance?” A foul fact if so.

[marksof-weakness]

𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

@mythsought asked:

❛ are you threatening me? ❜ FROM OPHIR LOL

It still hurts to hunger- Ire rounds a bleak hemisphere - distant, mute, and all a cumulative of baseless infringement where before the storm would bellow, bellow, bellow- shamefully, now a memory embedded into his skin of what once was. Standing now, possessing neither that ire nor the energy for it but its former shell, what little can be mustered stokes a hot and steady flame making wildfires in his mind where the other man is concerned. Those wretched, deceiver’s eyes and croon of a snake’s tongue - mocking. Always mocking. Always taunting in manner that is his sly glance or jeering shoptalk. That Vergil stands at all before him is remarkable in its feat. That he trembles, terrified of the prowess scarcely hidden in faux man’s skin, a leaf in the would-be storm. He is threatening him. At least, he is attempting to be threatening... standing so close, snarling under breath. Raising his hand to grab the lithe of that throat, however bereft of any genuine strength. Unable to commit to the entire urge -

“What makes you any different than any other Ruler... what could possibly separate you from those that seek nothing but man’s oblivion...”

[marksof-weakness]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄.

@mythsought​ asked:

❛ there’s nothing that can change my mind. ❜

“And I the last of which to alter your opinion -” no, that is not quite right; the pinching twitch of his brows says as much before the quiet of his voice concedes, “No, my name would not be present even towards the list’s end.” How ought he to feel of it? While the situation is not precisely dire, by any means, the nagging, gnawing of it towards his mind cannot be denied. For his grand position, Ophir repeatedly opts for something peaceable. Repeatedly, infuriatingly - Vergil would growl under breath if his nerves would allow it for even a moment. “Then.... what do you propose I do?”

[marksofwoe]

Manhandling symbol starters

mythsought asked:

♚ - Ophir puts a hand on V’s knee

♚ - put a hand on my muse’s knee while sitting next to them, to discourage them from standing up

Not severe as before, this time. However caught, however slight between the brush of near collapse against near sprung. A split second, and thankfully, nothing more. It is enough nonetheless that not only sees V settling back, tranquil, but doing so with a brief-lived listlessness needed to garner something of his breath. Maybe his mind were elsewhere, like times before. Maybe it is just raw. Unaccustomed to sudden acts of care, or in this case, mundane touch. Could it be instinct, or trauma-made instinct that saw a Ruler, and not a friend?

The laughter is a little mirthless, afraid that this might have killed off any chance for something of a quiet evening. “I apologize... this comes upon me with intervals so random, at times I think myself freed of it. Then it happens.” A hand is placed on Ophir’s, neither discouraging the touch nor engaging, as it is confirming. Briefly, just briefly squeezed before released. “I hope it does not deter you...” what had he wanted to get up for again?

[marksof-weakness]

amidst the chaos album … sentence starters

@mythsought asked:

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but when a spade shows up, I call it by its first name. ” FROM OPHIR

Wretched little impulse! This that is of his inheritance to secure and safeguard amidst the chosen few selected by his kinsman, now a bane in company to these that hold the pulse of his brood. Manifesting in manner unusual and unwanted (humane, mundane manner that holds a desperate cling to him, being that this is earth, with earthly men and women and earthly needs, so unlike his Father’s homeland where things made sense). A snarl curls his lip, however experience dictates that no sound - threatening or otherwise - comes up from his burning throat to slander against the coy, playful tune that is this Ruler’s voice. He merely continues onward sweeping, or polishing, or whatever seems so slightly misplaced here in the Ruler’s nest.

“Since when have you cared for offending me?” Partially rhetoric. How can one be certain with a silver-tongued tyrant as Ophir? “I do not believe you are capable of withholding that tongue. Why even attempt towards it now?”

[marksofwoe]

𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯 𝑶𝑭 𝑨𝑵 𝑶𝑷𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑻 .    

@mythsought​ asked:

❛  i  want  to  live  for  something .  ❜ FROM OPHIR <3

Had this been stated several months earlier it would have attained some huff or ludicrous snicker. Some inclination towards that, some visible subconscious rebuttal - though with ears now made accustom to the sounds of his voice, eyes better trained to see past that veneer of silk luxury and petal-soft touch were hollows sorely echoing. ...nevertheless, is it an odd thing yet to hear, coming from The Prince. This lull of conversation taken in by the admission, back-dropped by the smooth ripples in the lake and muted white-noised liveliness from the woods behind, as though Ophir made plea to bid them silent in acknowledgement to this very distanced, humane suffering. V himself arrested just the same, having held his breath both in deep thought over the prospects. This, coupled with intrusion over his own insecurity, willing the unease of his heartbeat another cadence of that very far-parted backdrop.

“Do you know what it is?” It’s wishful - even V would admit to it, the way he sneaks his hand into Ophir’s. Lightly squeezing, but never releasing from that grip in its steady, small request. Smoothed over with his thumb, kneading gently. Summer offers its foretaste in that of coming rain clouds. The stiff, sudden wind. V just watches the way his hair moves in that perfect kind of dancing design - “...or where you would like to begin creating it?”