#voluntescor

[ironclawed]

voluntes-cor / starter call.

Footsteps. Too deliberate to belong to a beast. Without looking up from where he crouched, William drew in a breath, tasting again incense's odor on his tongue. “—a hunter? You will want to remain where you are for now,” he said, the foreign accent edging his words scraping against the inside of his beaked mask. “This will not take too long.”

Rising, he stepped around and behind the prone form lying muzzled and bound before him. Its outstretched hands pulled against their restraints, too-long fingers flinging forth with their nails clawing deep into the dirt. Ignoring its stifled howls, William grabbed it by the hair. Pulled back. Clouded moonlight outlined the strained veins of its neck. He pressed his blade into them and cut. Blood spurted, arcing dark into the air along with a gurgling shriek. 

He put aside his blade only when the slickness started pouring over his gloved hand. Taking out a glass bottle from his pocket, he set its mouth against the bleeding gash—and waited for it to fill.

[sparethebeasts-blog]

"I uh. I really miss you." He's speaking barely loud enough to be heard, somewhat shy of his own words as gaze is cast up towards Djura's ivory tower, from his place at the foot of the worn wooden ladder scaling the side of the building - and the only way he knows to reach the old watchdog. He's too afraid to approach, no matter how simple such a task may be, for reasons that seem to escape him.

     “Miss me?” comes the reply, “Look, mate, I know you have an affinity for dogs, but I’m one mutt you shouldn’t bring home to mother.”

     The one-eyed head that peers down the ladder has its remaining eyebrow raised. “I can hardly hear you. C’mon up if you’d like to chat.”

[jailbrckenarchive-blog]

voluntes-cor

    “you know, if maybe you’d like to,           i don’t know, get out of my way for           two seconds, we might not even be           having this argument.”

[ssanis-archive]

▱;;—⌠ A small whimper escaped the bleeding beast, it’s last poisonous              spouts laced with blood as they were released in a feeble attempt             to harm. An axe, d i g g i n g  into it’s fragile flesh with painful ease,             and with a simple swing of his arm, the beast’s neck ripped open             and it’s blood splattered across the pavement. Once, Old Yharnam             was home to him, a haven to escape the hunters--- he was nothing             better than these worthless parasites, perhaps he still isn’t, to some.             But with a mind and a will of revenge, its quite hard to find himself in             the same variety as them.             A small shiver ran down his spine as a sudden scent invaded his             nostrils, his head slightly turning toward the direction of the smell as             the newcomer approached, a smell of blood, leather and the scourge.                                                                                                   A h u n t e r. ⌡

      ❝ ...I’m surprised you escaped Djura. ❞

                                                                            ◤ voluntes-cor ◥