#veritasasmodeus

[positivity-for-the-rpers]

veritas-as-modeus is an awesome Stefano Valentini. I have a lot of fun reading their RPs :)

@veritas-as-modeus

[fidelissimum-a]

This place seems familiar in the way that all incredibly unpleasant things remind one of another. In this instance, the haunting emptiness of Union reminds him of that violent, cluttered landscape that was Beacon—they both fill him with a sense of unreality; like some things in this world, which would be regarded as horrible and grotesque in his normal life, are just supposed to be accepted.

Like paintings of disconcerting or just plain macabre art hanging along the walls of hotels.

One in particular has caught his attention and even as he adjusts his glasses ( not for sight, but for contemplation ) with gloved fingertips, he wishes to look away as much as he wishes to keep looking. It’s disturbing, as they all are: eight ballet dancers pirouetting in a circle, but rather than have their eyes closed in elegant motion, the hallmark of vision is just…

“Missing.” His own eyes squint in an attempt to understand. And are they being held up with wires? Is there any meaning to this?

He shouldn’t be looking for meaning here. More importantly—

“I need to find him.” Sebastian. Is it possible he isn’t here? Joseph can’t imagine facing a world like this without his old partner beside him—or at least nearby.

He manages to compose himself with a deep, steady breath and finally turns away from the hallway of portraits back to the descending stairs. It doesn’t appear as if his target is here, so he’ll have to head back out into the street.

“Still no clues.”

@veritas-as-modeus

[lady-incisor]

@veritas-as-modeus

“I can see you.”

She took him by surprise, causing him to almost push the camera trigger prematurely and waste a precious frame of film. Stefano chuckled though, despite initial tiny shock and shook his head.

“Good. I don’t mind having audience.”

Kikuchi regarded the stranger with suspicion. Her cold eyes stared at the aperture of the camera and then trailed towards him.

He reminded her of an elegant black cat. His features were sharp and ferally handsome, partially obscured by a sweep of thick hair. Clad in dark finery, he almost blended into the shadows.

She stayed still. It almost felt like he had been following her. That wasn’t a reasonable assumption, especially since he was totally engrossed in his subject: a gorgeous red dress discarded in the alley dumpster. It looked like a mess of blood from far away, which had attracted her curiosity in the first place.

“I won’t be interfering with your work?” Her tone was apathetic, “I thought you sorts liked being alone.”