#voidsought

[vcidveined]

@voidsought replied to your post: q’assadin has appeared! What to do? Caress cheek...

caress cheek. yes good

a rare smile develops, eyes closing as he leans into the hand. he places his own on top of the others, making sure to keep it there for a few extra moments before smoothly moving the hand to rest against one of the cores on his chest.

[exemplarum]

[Continued from here | @voidsought]

         ‘ in the end, all will meet oblivion. ’ that was the one immutable truth he knew, he saw it in the nothing of his future and the bleakness of his mortal life. mal’zahar had so removed himself from that cycle, forsaking mortality for the will of the watchers and the divine nothing they commanded. he knew not much of the creature which presented itself before him, however the grandeur of its scale and the scent of the creations end in its wake intrigued, and the truth of its words spoke true to him. he let a twitch of a smile grace his scarf covered lips, unseen across his emotionless face. ‘ so we will free them of their struggle. we will free them from their pitiful need to survive and they pain they wrought in its wake. ’

Jarvan tilted his head to the side as he coolly regarded the mortal before him. He had no proclivities for displays of emotion any longer - indeed, emotions were as foreign to him now as life, but he thought that perhaps, if he did, he might have laughed then to hear the creature’s words. Never had he expected such wisdom from any human. Never had he thought they were capable of seeing the truth the Dark Star itself would bring upon all universes and all life. 

“You are not what I expected of a mortal,” he admitted, feeling no shame in saying the words. How small they were before him. How easily they could be crushed. And yet... He did not wish to. Not yet. “How... refreshing to see a being which accepts the truth... accepts the silence and darkness.”

“What is your name, mortal? How may I call you?”

[sangravitae-a]

@voidsought replied to your post 

sounds like something a horny person would say. suspicious

“how dare you insinuate that.”

[skydarkin]

“You need to go.”

“ NO! “

It was a hoarse cry, born not of desperation, but of frustration, anger; the clawing, tormenting weight on the man’s soul, the last of that dim flame that still insisted he had one. 

“ No -- “ He grunts again, rising to his knees even as the clutches of the void weigh him down. “ Never.. never shall I go quietly into the night; never.. shall I be made to kneel! “ 

More so than any supernatural strength, determination fuels him; determination never to be made a slave again, a prisoner, slave to any magician’s tricks, and this determination brings him to his feet, glaring at the prophet of nothingness with cruel vigor in his eyes.

“ I.. will kill you, your void, AND this world -- I will stand atop the corpse of all things, and there I shall build my throne! 

SO FIGHT ME, YOU TREACHEROUS CURR! TASTE THE OBLIVION YOU WORSHIP SO! “

[oblivisms-a]

they pressed their lips against the toothed maw, soft and supple skin against the chill of bone. blood coats their mouth which they are all too willing to share with the entity, their victim's heart still warm in their clawed hand. he licks the blood from his mouth before quietly offering his feast to the dark star. a content hum echos from his through. he remains close, tasting the death on the other with delight. perhaps the mortals did have some pleasant celebrations.

@voidsought ⸺ four years later. ( blood, gore )

What an impossibly delicious sight — the sweetest of deep red ichors dripping from Mal'zahar's teeth and claws; the prophet dignifying the dark star with the illustrious gift of the feast — both blood and bone and the exploration of tongues and maw. Thresh is all too eager to lap up each piece that is given to him, long tongue dragging tantalizingly slow over his sweet prophet's lips, cleaning him up just as he did for Thresh.

"What a gift this is, my prophet," he hums, pressing the ridge of his head into the soft flesh of Mal'zahar's cheek, like a kiss. Taking the gifted heart in his claws, he raises the bloodied organ high, using his free hand to grasp at Mal'zahar's neck, tilting his head up in reverence. "Drink deeply," Thresh commands, before crushing the heart in his grasp, butchered meat and blood careening down from between his claws like silk and coating Mal'zahar's beautiful visage in its art.

With a deep laugh, the dark star widens his maw, drinking deep in turn as he kissed the prophet once more, taking in the red from his mouth and from his flesh. Claws explored, holding Mal'zahar closely — possessively — pressing them flush together in true union. Only when satisfied with the sight of his prophet coated so perfectly in gore did Thresh remove himself, one final swipe of careful claws caressing affectionately along his cheek.

"What a pleasant holiday indeed."

[munsontm]

el's gifts are handmade- a friendship bracelet braided with red rope and a card that she was very determined to make herself, shaky unrefined handwriting and all. there's a little drawing of a bat on the front. " happy birthday. " she smiles with her teeth for once, the grin unburdened.

Was it weird that he felt so proud of her for producing the bracelet and card? He imagined it was akin to that of a father or an older brother, of which he fell under neither category in Jane Hopper's life. Yet, the feelings were rooted deep and unwilling to budge.

A smile appeared on his lips when Jane tied the friendship bracelet around his wrist. How had she known that red was his favourite colour? It didn't matter, really. All it showed was how much she truly cared, at least in his opinion. "That's very cool, Supergirl. Did you make it yerself?" He held his wrist up to admire it further before gathering Jane into a hug, arms wrapped around her tight. "I love it and the card." Ringed fingers dug gently into Jane's hair and ruffled it up affectionately. "Thanks, really. It means...it means a lot."

@voidsight

[solliium]

‘ the gift of sight is only a burden if you let it be, child. ' the prophet looks down upon her, eyes aglow and boring into her. his voice echoed about the temple's halls, his very presence warping the very tapestry of time both of them were blessed to see.' you must look further. deeper. seek the true end, grasp it. find power in the knowledge and be the instrument of that future's shaping.

— ✱ @voidsought​​

    something in her chest tightens: it's a hot, bubbling feeling. unfamiliar. awful. misri curls her fingers into her shawl, pulling it closer around herself. she tilts her chin and sets her jaw, lips thinning. she had considered, as a child, that perhaps someone else shared her gift. misri had fancied the idea, clung to it at times in the hopes that she wasn't so alone.

    and then one day she woke up, and the idea was gone. she would never have anyone to talk to, to share the pain and responsibility that came with seeing. ionia had its share of fortune tellers, but there was a difference: they told fortunes based off tangible things. palms and cards and the specific way bones fell or fractured. they did not see the future. it did not wake them in cold sweats or paint the darkness behind their eyelids in red.

    " you would make it sound so simple — as if there are not a thousand different factors at play. " a cutting edge lines her words.

[blessercoeur]

✂ = threatening them

Muse Reaction || (Accepting!)

✂ = threatening them

She did not know what was more alarming, the fact this man hovered above ground, or that his features were strangely morphed into something else, something she did not fully comprehend.

It took her a while, in her astonished trance, to notice what he spoke. Her body was tense, every muscle locked in place. He was obviously powerful, whatever magic he had was easily noticeable within his changed form; Human, but not quite... Almost beastly, really.

The sickening corrupted skin that she could catch from the corner of her eye as he circled her. The nervousness took her, his presence enough to frighten her a good amount, so much so his words passed by her, as if muffled.