#odinsbeast

[doomxseer]

Létum "slice a man in two and buy his husband flowers" Duneyrr.

odinsbeast 

[doomxseer]

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you. It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.

[doomxseer]

Staring back in front of me Where were you hiding? I was blind but now I see Where you were hiding

[doomxseer]

Thundermun: Raven and stag really sums them up well

Like just angry bird on this big bucks shoulders while stag is all graceful giant and bird just caws at everything that moves

Me: YOU'RE NOT WRONG TBH

[doomxseer]

[  Létum and Arty are precious help me i’m going to die ]

[doomxseer]

[ Arty and Létum are some seriously shady mother fuckers tbh. ]

[doomxseer]

|Evasive Action - Awful AU 184 - Closed|

odinsbeast

What was he doing here? He was way too big. He stuck out like a sore thumb and he swore people were staring. Létum was uncharacteristically feeling self conscious tonight. Parties were usually his thing. Drinking, being around friends…but tonight something felt amiss. He couldn’t put his big paw on it no matter how hard he tried. Maybe it was the music? Ah, it really sucked. Nothing like his usual tastes. Then again this wasn’t his usual crowd. This was more ex’s type of-

Oh shit. His ex!

She just walked through the god damn door! He should have known. Oh damn it, he was not ready for the forced pleasantries. Not yet. Maybe in six months time, but certainly not now!

Like hell he could hide. The sheer size of him made it impossible. Swallowing down his drink he glanced about for an exit strategy. In his glancing he spotted the man on her arm. Oh great. She’s with him. There was no time for anger. He needed to get out of there before he did something he regretted. Hastily moving through the crowd was a poor choice of action, however. Especially seeing as he nearly took out a smaller man.

It was fortunate that he was quick to react. It would have made a serious scene if he hadn’t caught his poor victim before he fell to the ground, drink and all.

“Oh, man. I am really sorry!”

This party may be his scene, but he’d much rather be home and out of the noise and crowds. Artyom’s a bit of a shut in if he’s honest, parties aren’t his thing no matter how good the music is. He really doesn’t know why he’s here anymore but he’s pretty sure it’s the fault of a friend, dragging him out because he needs to ‘stop being so antisocial.’ Yeah well, fuck that. Vodka helps a bit, at least. 

He’s still only on his first drink by the time an hours passed, because he’ll be driving himself home tonight and crashing his car sounds like a shit way to end a party. Speaking of ending the party, he should be just about ready to get out of dodge by now, he’s been here long enough and the whole affair is proving to be such a drag--

“Fuck!--”

Artyom doesn’t expect the blunt force that sends him sprawling sideways, the limb not occupied with holding his drink flails out to catch his fall. He’s grabbed as quickly as he’s sent hurtling to the floor, large hands gripping one of his arms, bracing the small of his back. His drink didn’t even spill. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. I’m good.” he nods, taking that moment to pull himself upright, only to notice just how tall and out of place this guy seems. He looks up, he can make out blond in the dim light of the room and this dude really doesn’t look like the type to frequent these kinds of parties... He also seems a smidgen frazzled.

“... You okay there? You look like you’ve seen a damn ghost.”

[doomxseer]

He Speaks of Crows

His thoughts have been on fire for weeks now. Jumping from one pondering to the next like flames burning wild and violent through drought stricken trees. It’s unending, even when the murmurs in his head burble down to something like a low crackling flame, coals popping, an occasional abrupt crack making him jolt. His Embrace brought him no peace, only noise, only a cacophony of voices trilling like insects behind his eyes and above his throat.

Nothing truly gives him peace other than feeding, the act itself as disgusting as it is necessary for his continued existence. He’s not particularly fond of the taste of blood, nor does he think he will ever be, this curse wasn’t his choice and he resents it. A life he once had completely under control now answers to the pull of his thirst, tainted by voices buzzing through his head that are not his own.

The only thing left he can control is who he feeds upon and how he can wrap them around his finger, which he does with a silver gilded tongue and lulling words. It’s not like he has a favorite either, anyone with a beating heart and a weak enough mind will do just fine for him. Currently, he’s managed to render a barmaid completely enthralled, fully intent on luring her to where none are the wiser; she won’t miss a bit of blood.