#puriter

[hisguidinglight]

-pathy ll Alana & Hannibal

   { Sure, seeking out and communicating with the person she was actually concerned about was certainly an option. After all, what was a more reliable way of finding out how someone was than asking that particular person? Words were more reliable when they came directly from the source than other places. However, when one of the other sources was someone who was a friend or even friendly acquaintance, it became important to show that trust was placed in that person as well. To say that she would rather ask Will than the person who had taught her might end up giving off some feeling of mistrust. Not exactly something she wanted to do as she cared for both individuals. Besides, she could ask Hannibal without having to worry about how he might view her concern. There was no chance of him taking it the wrong way.

  That in mind, a charcoal gloved hand was lifted so that the door before her could be knocked on thrice. Three just happened to be one of those standard numbers for her. Granted, it was not uncommon for people to do things in threes. Whilst waiting for her acquaintance to answer the door, fingers glided to button the last button of her black wool coat. When in the company of someone as esteemed as the man she was about to meet with, she preferred to maintain as much of a professional look as possible. After all, one would not wear casual clothing while standing next to someone who was decked out in the finest of apparel. It just seemed to be..off and improper. Such thoughts quickly dispersed once an all too familiar face came into sight. Features softened to reflect the way that she was currently feeling. Concerned. }

     "I don't have an appointment, but I was hoping you had a minute to talk."

[corvanum-blog]

§

Send me §, for my muse’s reaction to yours slowly slipping a knife into their chest.

       It slices like a hot knife through butter, and plunges deeper with each passing second. He only wishes there had been more time to react-- time to avenge his soul before it drifts into the next life.

     Or, well, wherever else might provide a home for it. He doesn't doubt that the only place that would make an exception makes similar ones for the sinners without plans like his. And it's not like most deaths - his life doesn't pass before his eyes. 

     Instead, he thinks of a possible future. Of all he could have in the blink of an eye. 

     But here is this man he's had qualms about for weeks now, each of them correct and precise, however unfortunate. The breath he releases is cut short by the taste of rust on his tongue... he only wishes he'd stop breathing, already. It's humiliating. 

                      "Be sure to discard my corpse... with the dignity it deserves."

[thesicklyhugo-blog]

puriter started following you

"...Hi mister again...?" He resembled other batters he had met, carrying with him the same feeling of... of... uneasiness. Of some kind of sorrow that the child couldn't comprehend, but could comprehend he couldn't comprehend it. That something was wrong but he couldn't know. Hugo fidgeted, coughing into his blanket.