#rigcrmcrtis

[leaveherwilds]

( @rigcrmcrtis / nikolai. ) the sights no longer get to her, but the smells are a different story altogether. bodies strung up for nothing other than an attempt to strike fear deep into the hearts of the residents of hope county. death and decay linger in the air around them, causing her to wrinkle her nose when she gets too close. but the area around here is cleaner, lately, much to her surprise. someone’s taken the time to cut down bodies and give them the respect they should have in death.

she waits a moment to approach, climbing out of her old truck. a silent approach wasn’t something she was going for - the engine’s knocking could be heard a mile away. tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear, she takes a few steps towards the man in question, carefully dismantling the shrines to whatever god the culprits must think would accept a hollowed out corpse. 

“you’re the one who’s been doin’ this?” she asks, a tilt of the head. from the looks of it, he was adept at making sure to work quickly though efficiently. “did you happen on a young girl, bout my age, lil’ ways down the road? strung up with flowers in her hair?” she asks, scuffing the dirt beneath her feet. “saw her body was gone a day or two ago. figured i’d ask when i caught sight of ya workin’ out here in the heat all alone.”

[stormsiris]

@rigcrmcrtis continued from [x]

BRAIL GENERALLY INVITES HIMSELF TO MOST PARTIES. Who wouldn’t want him around anyway? Of course, the thrill of crashing festivities was dampened by the fact that he was welcomed with open arms. A lovingly put together celebration like this, with men and women his age, aren’t on the same wavelength as stuffy noble gatherings.

It doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to have a RIOTOUS good time, though, just in a more traditional way.

Then again, where he invites himself tends to beckon a different kind of riot. Between throngs of brightly colored young adults dancing with less than pure intentions against each other there he was. An old man in quite finely crafted if subtle blacks. He wasn’t necessarily standing still, but drifting occasionally with the steps of a ghost. If this was a party of more observant, more SOBER individuals maybe he would be sticking out way more to others.

Perhaps some would find his presence a detractor. WHO INVITED THE GRANDFATHER after all. Yet, as always, this just made the half-elf more CURIOUS why he walked with such QUIET PURPOSE.

I TEND TO SHOW UP WHEN PEOPLE DIE.

Now he’s VERY excited.

Yet he could only express his wild GRIN before the screams are heard, and the previously crippled looking old man is taking off after a would be murderer. His words he was about to utter divulge into a sharp cackle before he’s suddenly running after them.

WIND curls at his feet as he instantly follows after, catching up to the old man in seconds as they curl into winding alleyways, “You sure do know how to make an IMPRESSION, Ghost. You mind if I call you that? Probably not you really give off that ‘my fields of fucks I give have been barren for two centuries’ kind of vibe.”

[endexe]

                                            ❝   Are you lost ?   ❞                                                        —   @rigcrmcrtis​​

WHERE ARE THEY THIS TIME? Have they stumbled into a whole new universe without realizing?   [   These shapes and colours of this world, they can not recognize them— the unfamiliarity remains.   ]   Brows furrowed and shaky fists clenched, they gaze at the spoken figure and nod to him in response after a moment of heavy silence. Radiated pixels dance around them while their presence sings to the strange world in statics.   [   They stand perfectly still before him— as part thing, part ghost.   ]   “   Where am I - I - I?... What is this place?    ”   Their questions are soft, distorted voice unbearing malicious intentions when they just want something— anything— to be made sense for once.    (   They try to recall how did they got here, though they find only endless holes staring at them— empty, empty, nothing.   )

[voiceofduality-archived2]

@rigcrmcrtis from X

Eyes open wide, and the memories come back at once before they even realize they're still alive.

He had dragged himself for a long while, knee deep in snow but no longer bleeding. It isn't often that he uses healing magic on himself, but he was dying — no, no, he did die. The abyss took over long enough for him to slay the beast and tend to his wounds. Then, he tried to retrace his steps back to town. But the weather had worsened; and the exhaustion, that was unbearable. He can't recall at what point his body gave up and collapsed gracelessly on the snow.

Their first attempt to speak is interrupted by a fit of coughing. His nose twitches, though the smell alone can't be blamed for the dry sensation in his throat. The thick if rudimentary furs had kept him sufficiently warm, apparently, but the cold had still managed to soak through. His bones ache, too.

"Thank you," it's the first thing he mutters, with a heartfelt bow of gratitude. That's the least he can do. And then: "Sorry for the inconvenience."

[stormsiris]

@rigcrmcrtis​ asked: A black sheepdog somehow got into Brail’s home that night, and patiently waits at the young man’s bedside, tail whacking wood as it wags. Death dog? Hardly. They’re carrying the rib bone of a blue dragon in their mouth, though. One can tell, because it’s scarred with blue. “Apparently this is meant to be a lightning rod.” Says a note attached to the bone, “but really it’s a fancy boomerang. Careful - lightning sticks to it. It’s hilarious. Enjoying being one year closer to death’s cold embrace, boy. You can throw this at the Reaper when you’re dead.The dog accepts pets as payment” and disappears in a plume of smoke.

BIRTHDAY!

Brail was no stranger to odd messaging systems--that’s how most of his colleagues got a hold of him when he wasn’t at home. Yet, he WAS HOME, and just peeling his eyes open from his haphazard sleeping position. He stares at the dog with the slightest squint of his eyes, mumbling a spell under his breath to detect illusion. NOPE, that’s just a dog. The BONE HOWEVER, that was something he recognized immediately. Frankly, FEELING IT was what got him to awaken.

He has to roll a bit and use his left hand to pluck the note and bone from the dog, giving it a little scritch on the ear as he reads. The slightest laugh crawls off of tired lips. Really? HE OF ALL PEOPLE remembered?

He looks to the bone, it was in good condition, clearly a younger dragon based on the size. He wonders where Nikolai could have gotten it--then again maybe its best as a mystery. Or maybe he just punched the dragon to death.

Regardless, as his right arm slowly surges back to life, he wraps the bone around it, the soft blue glow of the surface glowing brighter. He reaches over, giving the little messenger his well deserved pets, “When I finally kill death with a lightning boomerang, I’ll make sure to say it was from you, old man.”

[jbnder-archive]

YOU PORTRAY HIM SI FCKING WELL ITS LIKE HOLY SHIIT IS THIS THE ACTUAL BENDER???

I’M SHOOK AND I DON’T KNOW IF THIS WAS FOR A MEME BUT REGARDLESS ILY , I CAN’T WAIT TO WRITE MORE WITH YOU .

[jbnder-archive]

‘ you sleep with these things looking at you ? ’ many vintage dolls sit around them , among other knickknacks and rarities of olden times –––– olden meaning from the 50′s . picking up a babydoll , he stares at it , unblinking , as if he was having a contest with porcelain eyes , before john throws it back down . ‘ dolls , little statues , pillows with inspirational quotes –––– are you someone’s grandma ? ’

@rigcrmcrtis

[zydratetm]

@rigcrmcrtis

“Excuse me but—what does it taste like? People, I mean?” He sees her chowing down on a corpse & can’t help but to ask. “That. . .doesn’t look very fresh though. Are you that desperate for food?”