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❝ God, you again? I thought you'd just fade into the floor boards.❞

#( he's grumpy )#rexipsa #[ greeter; ]

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#replied meme #rexipsa

"Murderer!"

1. My muse will feed yours to rabid dogs. He whistles as he works, Roman Godfrey, so when he’s done with her he’s jubilant. It’s the full moon, the dogs is hungry, but only because he’s starved him all day, he wants there to be absolutely nothing left, not a scrap, not a bone. He's hungry and he's salivating and it’s been far too long that he hasn't eaten. He uses a saw to cut her in half at the waist, to separate the arms from the torso and bisect the legs at the knee. That way there’s enough for everybody. He’s learned to appreciate the aesthetics of dismembermet and he’s learned to appreciate the art of the kill. She’s bloodless now, there’s no mess, but that makes it a little harder to hack through her. He saves the cheeks for Rudi. The most tender part, he hears. He’s already killed her so it’s just not as entertaining as watching her scream, squirm, feeding off of her fear, but it’s good enough to watch her body be torn to shreds and that’s exactly what happens when, as the night falls, he throws bits into the garden for the animal. And oh how he lunges, it’s almost beautiful, almost poetic, he tears, mouthful after mouthful of flesh, then the crunching of the bones. But this isn't a normal dogs, no, no, this is a special kind, a special kind of wolf. They have an agreement. ’Poor Hayden,’ he muses, lighting a cigarette as he stands on the deck by the back door. ‘Poor Hayden. She wanted to do things, you know, Peter. She had dreams of blackmail.'

#rexipsa #peterrumanck #ghouliish

stragxs (& rexipsa) New town, new house, new life, new everything. Roman likes things new. Well, strictly speaking the house isn't new, it's actually fairly old, probably from the late Victorian Era, maybe part of the long nineteenth century, but he doesn't care. It has an interesting history and he's so sick of modern. He's had it done up well, done up to just how it looked in the early 1900s. He likes it looking old, looking classic, Tiffany lamps and heavy books. He'll probably never read them. It's haunted, he hears. Haunted by all the people that have died in the house, died on the grounds, and that makes it interesting enough for him. Up, up, up he goes, dragging his feet through the house. If it was haunted the ghostly residents were sure doing a good job of hiding themselves. He stops in the hall, pulls a case from his pocket and lights a cigarette. 'Just another house,' he muses aloud. Just another house with a rich, lie-filled background. Sure there's been murders here (and he's almost certain there will be more with his reign) but nothing seems to have come of it.

#stragxs #rexipsa #I really hope you guys don't mind that I tagged you both but as we've not planned anything #I thought we might as well all start somewhere

"I'm sorry but what did you say you were here for again?" Violet had been sitting on her ledge of her front porch for what had seemed like hours with a half lit cigarette in her hands; only half paying attention to the bullshit that the other woman was speaking. She had a thousand and one B E T T E R things she could have been doing in that moment than listening to her talk.

#rexipsa #[ I hope this works for you. ^^ ]

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