#whatstillbleeds

[marigoldeneyes]

lovely was the line in his lips that greeted her question—innocent to anyone who didn't know him at all. harmless where she was confident, parallel in the dishonesty she offered.

❛❛ what do i mean… ❜❜ he muses, barely a step in her direction and two to the side. his gaze travels the eerie surface of the many objects in the room with not the briefest hint of turning in her direction ( but he could now, couldn't he? the touch of his stare a moment away from her skin ). ❛❛ why, now that i think about it i may have gone a step too far from my understanding of the situation. faust, what do you call the very act of concealing the consequences of one's reckless endeavours, almost hidden with complete success save for the fact that it was witnessed and then commented on by all at the south end? ❜❜

❛❛ blood! ❜❜ exclaimed the familiar, waving with energy the bandages caught with the end of her tail.

❛❛ ah, that would be it. ❜❜ / cont. from @whatstillbleeds

[selfmenticide]

❛ do you mind if i smoke? ❜ - from hilli to darkiplier

deok-su takes a moment to take in his surroundings , brows furrowing for a second as black eyes turn to train on a head of strewn black and big eyes looking at him with an iota of manner on his tongue as the cigarette is presented . the dokkaebi takes in a small shaken breath as the change in scenery and distinct presence of a priest . tan fingers flex around the head of his cane , suit clinging to his form and making his breath feel stale , and he has to wonder if hilliard can see through his cleverly crafted disguise . it was more for protection rather to fool , a means to seem normal in the face of being anything but .

his true face is very similar to one he'd crafted , save for pale grey skin , sunken black eyes , and long bottom canines that curl over his top lip . it showed he'd never fallen deep into his blasphemous nature , a creature created rather than a creature born . his spit feels like hot irons as he tries to swallow down the egregious amount that threatens to fill his mouth , forcing a polite smile onto his features as he leaned onto his cane . " well , we are in the open . it would be rude for me to tell you what to do in the free world . " a nervous laugh tumbles from his lips , a hand coming to brush long black strands from his own face . " do mind my prodding , but wouldn't most see it as a sin for a priest or pastor to smoke ? " the question is anything but accusatory , especially evident by the way dark's head tilts and eyes narrow momentarily .

whilst dark could question why the thin fabric of time had put him here of all places , he'd much rather just bask in the company of someone who at least had the manners to ask before doing something that bothered others . " apologies for the intrusion , " he's quick to add with a tight smile , " it's just not something you would see every day , but please , feel free to ignore that question . " his free hand juts out , his smile becoming more genuine as he introduced himself . " deok-su , it's a pleasure to meet you , father . . . ? "

@whatstillbleeds

[selfmenticide]

" do you feel any sense of shame? " - from julian to the Captain

you rub at your arm , whatever remains of your uniform in tatters that catch on the material of your gloves . that eye seems to pierce through you , he doesn't seem to mean intrusive , but you can't help the way the word shame makes cold chills roll along your shoulders . were you at fault for all the ill that had fallen upon your crew ? were you the perpetrator of their sorrows ? sometimes you felt this was so , i mean . . . the only other option was to blame someone else , to cast everything aside and say it was another's bad luck . you skin itches in the worst way possible and find yourself quite literally partially sitting on your hands to keep from clawing at your flesh . why did that stress you out so bad ? the ginger before you had only seemed to want to know more , to ( in his own way ) find out more about you ; what you were , why you were . and , to you that seemed fair . yet , here you are struggling to catch your barrings , struggling to keep your breath steady .

" i - i . . . shame . . . ? no , not really , i . . . " you feel how your tongue is heavy behind your teeth , how spit threatens to drown you whole . your vision tapers to the ground , and only a shake of your own head is what brings you back to the question at hand . " why . . . why did you ask me that , again ? was it . . . was it something i said that made me subject to shame , or . . . ? " your voice is like gravel in your throat , making each word harder to get out than the last . " i-i'm sorry i just . . . i think i lost track of the interrogation here . " you try to make a joke , but it falls flat as a broad frown spreads across your features and brows knot together hard . " generally , though , no i . . . " you struggle to completely that sentence with confidence , but force it out all the same . " no , i don't feel shame , not often at least . i haven't . . . i haven't done anything to feel shame , i don't think . do . . . do you feel shame ? " you don't mean to pry in return , but how else were you to respond ? silence ? fear ? let the dread in your chest sever your vocal cords and snuff out your breathing ? no way .

you were a captain . you would be strong not matter the question at hand . no matter the troubles you face . no matter where you ended up .

@whatstillbleeds

[selfmenticide]

" that's a lot of blood. " - from hilli to asmodeus

the knight heaves as inky ichor oozes from his maw , a hint of disdain heavy on his features at hilliard's words as he practically stumbled into the church . how pathetic . . . asmodeus would never find himself on the short end of the stick , always striving to ensure whatever he did benefitted him solely , but this brawl had done a number on him . note to self , don't pick fights with god's right hand unless you're prepared to deal with the consequences . his true face bares sharp teeth as a means to still seem strong even when his vessel felt it would pop at the seams . he's coated in black and gold , showing he at least managed to land some blows to gabriel before being beaten into the ground all together , but the way his ebony clothes glisten with his own rotten blood in the light shows he'd suffered more .

" what can i say ? the other guy brought a fish . " the demon spits up black blood as sarcasm heavily infiltrates his voice , black irises borderline voids with the adrenaline that ran through his barely managed form . " i thought you priests were s'pposed to be some kinda safe haven . " his voice is muddled with the light gargle of blood , hands leaving a burnt imprint upon the pews as he pulled his beaten body up to the front , seeking a modicum of solace from a man who may not provide . asmodeus would never be mortally wounded , both heaven and hell knowing the damage such an immense death would cause , but it was evident an angel was willing to beat him to the brink of death for less . especially when he was the one picking the fights .

" now , father , " the knight hisses , unceremoniously being brought to his knees from his own wounds and the power of the house of god as he leaned against the frontmost pew , looking to hilliard without an ounce of weakness behind his eyes , " will you provide me that safety , or are y' gonna stand there and patronize me ? " the faces of his true form hold nothing but regret , an anger driven regret but still present all the same , at the attempt to cause trouble with a being he knew could best him .

@whatstillbleeds

[selfmenticide]

" you're getting blood on the carpet. " - from julian to the Captain

you can feel how frantic your gaze must be , your breath catching along your ribs as black irises blown wide land upon a figure you have NEVER met before , not that you could be surprised . things had been going ary on the invincible II for days now , and whilst most anomalies thrown your way had rolled off your shoulders , this one was a bit too alarming for you to ignore . sweat beads at your forehead as shaken , gloved palms grab for time weathered wood and stone carved by hand . being on the ground was already something you weren't used to , smelling fresh grass and moist earth , seeing fireflies , and if you weren't practically bleeding out , you'd probably have been more excited about all of this .

the accented voice makes your black brows furrow hard , the hand not pressed into your bleeding gash pulling your hair from your face so you can make something out . ginger waves and a honeyed brown eye make your confusion seep only further below your goose pimpled skin , eyes struggling to focus as , despite it all , the comment forces a chuckle of disbelief from your maw . " y-you're pretty calm for seeing a stranger bleeding out . . . " is the most jest you can muster , a grunt of pain cutting the humor in your tone as you unceremoniously start to slump against the nearest wall .

while you hadn't expected to wind up somewhere the complete opposite of home , you aren't sure if you completely hate it . after all , no mark to bother you about menial issues or the offhanded mack trying to take control , you were . . . honestly more relaxed right now than you'd been in months , all whilst bleeding out on the floor of a complete stranger's home . weird as it was , you honestly couldn't be shocked . " might wanna help if you don't wanna dead body on your carpet . " you taste ichor on your tongue , and even injured this bad manage to give your best toothy grin , as lopsided as it may be .

@whatstillbleeds

[projectcetus]

@whatstillbleeds

There was an Orca in the bay.

Which was weird, because Orcas were very much not a native species. Perhaps this one had gotten separated from its pod and got lost. Its form seemed unnaturally slim—malnutrition, most likely. But it was definitely an Orca.

The smooth head would breach the surface of the water now and again, spewing mist into the air as it breathed before ducking back down under the depths with only its dorsal fin visible for a few moments more. It remained in the bay for a few days, but never lingered too close to the shore or near the surface.

The poor thing is probably dying, a few patrons of the church would say. Wouldn’t it be polite to give the animal a last rite? They were clearly joking, seemingly aware of the priest’s fear of vast bodies of water. So it was left at that.

Until the Orca came ashore.

A wet trail from the front doors to past the pews led to a thing that definitely wasn’t an Orca. At least not entirely. Human shaped in the most basic and barest of ways, but monstrous in everything else. The creature was pushing seven feet in height, a massive whale-like tail dragging on the floor behind it; the source of the wet trail no doubt.

Dark brown eyes that were almost black were locked onto a figurine of Jesus on the cross, arms spread and head hanging. Webbed digits tugged at the damp, navy blue scarf around its neck, then spread outward to mimic the stigmata.

It took a moment for it to notice the priest was present, turning its head to peer over their shoulder. It pointed to the figurine, then spoke, its voice light and oddly feminine.

“Why is the small man hurt?”