#the sire

[ind1g0r3runz]

Quick question, would removing the Sire’s crown be painful?

The Sire's crown is partially connected to the head, and only detaches during rare unseen forms of them.

so yeah its like ripping off a big scab

[ind1g0r3runz]

Part 6: Teethy forms

Mr.Cat: A malicious cosmic entity, who takes the form of a 1930s cartoon. The Sire: A patron saint of royalty, who is alongside Mr.Cat at this current time..

i think the cat is impressed.

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[ind1g0r3runz]

Do you think that the Sire deserves purple? Or is he still stuck at red. Need it for the fan comic

purple!!! :3

[ind1g0r3runz]

Small text that is hard to read :3

-doesn't kill for food nor an entertainment but mainly as a defense/warnings (also to collect souls)

-Intersex being, has no preferred gender and is androgynous to the eye (also I doubt they even have genitalia due to the giant ass mouth-)

-The Sire's/Father Rovert's lair is run by Smile Rooms, or Smile hosts, hence The Sires "teethy" nature.

extra doodle

[baronafanas002]

Tonight we fly 🦇

[ind1g0r3runz]

Part 4: Exile thy fallen patron

Sire: A crowned cat, working for thine father to gather the patron saints souls.

Father Rovert: The leader, the ruler, the controller. If not followed,c̷̴̛̙̟̹̳͙̳̼̗͕̝̻̮ͫ͋̿͌ͦ͆͌̍̈̐͒̾̑̊̽̐̆̏͑̆ḛ̶̳̯̩̰̓̓̓̾́r̢̬̥̟̦͖͎͙̞̠͍͇̟̐͂̊͗ͣ̐̆̚ţ̵̵̛̠̰̩̯̤͈̣̺͍̙͎͒͒̑̎̏͋̊̅̈ͩͫ̍ͬ̉͂ͧ͑ͯ̊ͭ̌̕͘͢͢͞ą̷̸̷̷̸̢̛̰̣͓̙̺̹̰̎ͪ̏ͥ̏́̾̀ͬ͒̓͛̾ͩ͛̏͑̚͟͞͠ͅi͉̳̱͖̠̞͙̦̮͍̬͌̌ͮ͒͊̓n̴̖̘͓̣͑̑̕͘ i̡̡̳̹̙̯͓̓̊ͮ̋ͦ͊̕͟ͅm̴̴̧̧̞͈͎̫̭̤͈̯̗̤̭͔̣̘̖͉̯̖͐͗͌ͪ͊̍̒̍͊̃̀̌̿͋͌̑̎̌̉̇͘͡͡ͅm̵̷̴̵̛̼̱͍̼̰̜͈̻̮̺͚̗̦͉̋̿̋͛͆ͮ͌̀̂̾́̑͗͛̃̋́̈́̈̕͜͢͜e̶͚̦͕͔̼͉̲̮͎̙̾ͪͪ̉ͥ̓͐͌ͩ̇̓ͥ̀͒̀͝_̴̞̥̯̩ͬ̎̉̐̔͜ͅd̗̲̿̋̎̃i̟ͫ̀̚͢a̸̵̧̛̲̪̝̼̰͉͖͎̿̐͑̍̍ͭ̀͑̌ͮ͂͌ͯ̾̐͘̚͞t̸̷̢̢͇̱̻̱̯̹̻̩̥̋ͧ̊ͭͣͦ͗͐͛ͫ̃̿͛͆̉ͨ͘͟͟e͛̅̾̃ D̨̦͖̖̂͊͂̈́̇E̢̧̬̟̗̮̝̘͍̓ͥͮͬͥ̓̀̍͗͘͘͜͢͝͝A̵̴͎͓̙̰͍̦̜̜̹̻̪̜̹̗̗ͣ̈́͑̓̒̋̄̆̀ͬ̓̓̔̈̚͠͡͞͞ͅͅT̤͇̖̘̞͚̘̺̥̞ͮͪ̇̓ͫ̀͌ͭ̑̈́͂̉͘͘H̵̵̵̫͉̯̱͇̣̳͎͊ͨ̊̊̑͌͊̄͗̐̚͘̕͞͞

The gate host: Not even a real character. just a giant door with teeth that rules the hub.

feel free to ask questions!

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[reidhalstead]

Let me go. ft. Nisha

It's the easiest goodbye, but the hardest to escape.

Hell, it's a good fucking riddance.

Yet, he's spared her once; his hand had been wrapped around her heart, the aorta between his fingers. So close, he had practically tasted her ash on his lips. He'd almost screamed his violence when he'd been unable to go through with tearing it from the nest in her ribcage. When that hand had come out bloodied, but empty. Reid doesn't understand it, because it's not loyalty. He does not bow to beasts, and certainly not to her.

Not to the woman who tore him from everything he'd known. Time and time again.

But he'd let her go then. Now, he's about to ask her to do the same for him.

Reid knows he's never convincing her to let him be free of the chains she keeps tugging on. That even in the freedom of her carefully controlled obsession, he'll never get away from her. She'd find him. She'd find Anika, and she'd drag him back until he begged for an end. He won't go back to the concrete pit. They can't play that game; he doesn't need chasing to the end of the earth. Nisha's taken enough from him.

He can't take anything more from her. All he's got is the fragile acknowledgement that he's approaching her, first. Handing her his deck, and the truth, so she might understand he has to find a way to respect her, less she know he never wants to see her fucking face again. (A pipe dream, but it keeps the fire in his stomach burning) It's enough of a motivator to sell half-truths, lies, and say all those things he's bitten his tongue on a hundred times. Because he feels dirty saying them. He feels like a traitor, on the wrong side and playing into the enemy's victory.

Let me have this, Eleazar. One lifetime; just give back the one you stole from me, and when that ends. I'll be back, and I'll have nothing left but you. Nothing but you.

Because she's one of the things he's never been able to kill.

When he's lost everything to time, and when his family grow old, and Booker leaves him — when all that remains is him, Nisha, and vampire-kind that he keeps at arm's length. When they're the only things that stay frozen in the wreckage. When madness of grief, and loss have him questioning existence all over again. There's nobody to pull him back from the cliff edge, except her.

Maybe by then, Eleazar would have found herself another life to ruin and obsess over. Perhaps, a better hunter than he had been would have dusted her, and he'll never have to keep a promise he doesn't like making. He just needs to say whatever it takes, so that she'll leave him and Booker alone. He'll pay any cost.

By the time he leaves, Reid's wiping the bloodied bite from his neck as it heals over; new skin knitting in place. He's swallowing down the aftertaste of her blood — it tastes as foul as the oath of unlife handed over to Nisha. Her trivial last hurrah is a simple price paid; an exchange in blood and flesh. So she's agreed to his terms, and that's all he can ask for; it's all he can hope for.

That, and for Anika to never learn what he's done to keep his sire away.

[muertarte]

TIMING: Last night

PARTIES: Eloy and Los Sombras

SUMMARY: Eloy has arrived to Wicked's Rest.

WARNINGS: None

The squeals of dust-worn brakes broke through the rhythmic song of the cicadas hidden amongst the grass. Several moving trucks lined up at the curb in front of a newly purchased mansion. It was grand, able to hold a small army of people without drawing too much attention. 

When things moved at night, they were rarely noticed, and if they were, they were ignored. Humans didn't care to find themselves in the middle of danger, hoping that in doing so, whatever stalked them would hold no interest. They confined themselves to a blissful ignorance that allowed more than enough room to roam without too much precaution. 

That was why Eloy deployed a few teams to gather intel on the town. The rumors piqued his interest, and it was only natural that it would draw the two people he needed to find. 

It was the perfect cover, and he'd taught them well. Too well. They'd evaded him for five years, but now? After months of silence, likely due to his lessons, a call finally came. The caller never made it home even after being directly ordered to do so. Which left Eloy to surmise that all of his pawns had been killed. He really should've known that would happen. 

Out of all his children, Kabil and Metzli were the most ruthless, the most reliable. At least until the poor attempt at a coup. Nonetheless, he had to get rid of them after what they'd done. The objective proved more pertinent, leaving him with no choice but to visit Wicked's Rest himself with a large team in tow. He couldn’t take any chances. Kabil had gotten close before, and if he’d gained comrades outside of the clan, there was no way Eloy could control them as he had before. 

“Señor,” A voice cut through Eloy’s thoughts, settling him back to the realization that the vehicle he was in had come to a stop. “We have arrived. Tomelo and Marisol have begun instructing the moving teams and are moving along.” 

Eloy nodded, eyeing the house from his seat. He smiled viciously, revealing several sharp teeth, “Send out numbers four-sixty-one and two-thirteen.” He paused, considering, “They will survey as a team, but send out nine, too. She will leave a few messages for us. She will know what that means.” The driver gave Eloy a nod. “As you wish, master.” 

Exiting the vehicle with his hood on, Eloy began to ascend the long driveway up to the manor, taking his time to survey the land. By then the night was at its peak, the bell toll ringing its way down from the open door as its hour hand reached three. 

“Hm.” Eloy scanned, feeling as though he was being watched. Treeline to lamppost to the north, he saw nothing of note, but his eyes soon landed on a wavy-haired shadow standing ominously still. A closer look revealed a strong frame, but Eloy didn’t care to pay it any mind. He walked care-free the rest of the way into the house, gait relaxed and posture tall. No one could touch him, so he wasn’t worried. His revenge and victory were well on schedule.

Eloy would win, and the Bernals would be nothing but a small stain he could wash away, never to think about again.