#reapingcrescent

[afirstnamebasis]

my brother tells me that apparently he cannot grow facial hair.

i have dodged a bullet.

[afirstnamebasis]

my... brother has found a job with hours that suit him and i. i am proud of him.

[afirstnamebasis]

@reapingcrescent that ache behind the eyes makes me tense. it makes me wonder... if i’ll hear her again. if she’s back.

[undeadpool]

reapingcrescent replied to your post: reapingcrescent replied to your post: ...

Fair. Thank you.

no prob yazoomothy

[undeadpool]

reapingcrescent replied to your post: lets get smexy tonight

what is smexy.

smart + sexy

[marie-dufresne]

How long had he been sitting here? Three minutes? Three hours?

Long enough for him to seem like a cause for concern, anyway. He hadn’t even ordered anything, he just took in the sights of the cafe. Stared back at the people that stared at him, before he was devoured by the ambient sounds.

No, not even cafes were quiet enough.

Because people were always talking, always breathing, always subtly moving. Every movement, every drip of the coffee or tea that was poured, the machines. All of it was overwhelming, and Yazoo found himself devoured by sound.

So, he sat with his head on the table. Both arms covering his face, as if that would spare him from the drowning he was experiencing.

Until, he was greeted by a cup of coffee being placed down in front of him.

Verdant eyes glanced up at the woman. He brought a hand to smooth away the silver locks that fell in front of his face. He didn’t know what to say about this gesture; it was a new concept to him entirely. So, he figured he would go with what he knew.

“Salutations.”

@reapingcrescent

Salutations. What an interesting way to greet her.

Marie smiled at him, adjusting the designer purse on her elbow.

“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you,” she said, shrugging one of her shoulders, the trendy cashmere of her sweater falling down and exposing her skin. She flicked it back up.

“I see you in here a lot and you just seem really lonely--or--tired. I’m sorry if you don’t like it—I don’t know…how you like it, I mean, you know…obviously…”

Clearing her throat, she straightened a bit, but didn’t sit down. She wasn’t that invasive.

“I’m Marie Dufresne,” she offered, knocking her cup against his lightly in greeting, “I live at the complex here in the shipyard so I’m here a lot.”

[peccatuminanis-blog]

@reapingcrescent  ||  Discovered the HARBINGER

There was something upon the air of which was familiar - be it through sensation or scent the harbinger was adamant it was there. A spike in pressure, a chill, a something of which lingered like a bad taste. Acidic eyes glanced around his surroundings, curiosities fierce within his consciousness. Oh, was something lingering nearby of which would entertain hum for a time? He hoped so. 

[frigusiv-blog]

@reapingcrescent

Memories of Even and his own experimentation during the days of Radiant Garden as well as the sister worlds which proved vital for work and research, were mostly lost on the elderly Nobody. There were the odd drips that trickled through like an ice cube over a Bunsen burner, small flashes of scenarios and situations here and there, but with no context. Nevertheless, they gave him a rush; a rush of which he imagined people with a heart would feel. He was slowly putting together pieces of a puzzle for which the completed picture was still completely unknown to him. 

Yet there was something strangely intriguing about the so-called “remnant” of Sephiroth. The links between creating someone out of part of someone else, the darkness in Sephiroth’s heart having been far more than enough for three separate vessels, as well as the fact that Yazoo was so painfully perfect in ways only that which had been designed could be.

He wanted to reach out, to see what he was, to see if the Somebody he previously was may have had something to do with these creations. As much as the academic wished to know, he couldn’t, not when he was certain it would end in combat. 

Just a few words left Yazoo’s lips, and a memory sparked inside him, burning as cold as ice.

“They wanted to take our mother from us, our own-” had started, before the words came to Vexen just as easily, then speaking over the remnant, filling in exactly the words that were about to leave his lips.

“Our own mother. Can you imagine? Wouldn’t any boys do anything just to get their mother back? That is all we are, after all, three boys who just wanted the warm embrace of a mother’s love once more, to do what’s best for her.”

A shaky breath left the elderly Nobody’s lips, the only slightly steaming from the cold radiating off Vexen. “Of course. I wrote that dialogue.”