The Nerd Up North

I Have No clue what I'm doing Art/RP/Mood Blog of an 22 year old Dork

[awesome-rasara]

[the-nerd-up-north]

YEAH BUT WE STAN FITZ AND AZZY

[the-nerd-up-north]

An old sled, rusted, and worn from the dust and use it's seen over the years, just something Tersa had found her first few weeks here. It didn't have any holes-- but the dust storms and acidic fog would soak into everything it could and corrode. She had to move quickly, the carbon tarp strapped to the top. These Blonde locks whipped in the wind after falling from inside the hood, green eyes staring at the grey swirling clouds above for a moment as she rose from Sandy Hill. Sand and dust for miles— all but a single risen structure, having been already buried by the storm that ever-presently roared in this figure’s ears. A gasp as the pressured chamber would seal, a white room as this woman brought the sled in, and a respirator pulled off as this dust is blown and sucked into the system.

~ decontamination and Filtering complete, welcome back; Technician Azerse.~

“Yeah thanks E-2, Any messages from my mother?” She looked up to the walls as she took the poncho off, and respirator, to reveal these bright orange overalls and a Violet vest that she had zipped mid-way up. Almost, a pilot’s uniform

“Ah, it does appear she had put a few more tasks on your docket, including an Engine test of your recent project.”

“Engine test? There’s not anything wrong with that thing, I double and triple-checked.”

“She thinks otherwise.” A sigh as a locker opened, a hand shoved in as hair was grabbed and woven back into a braid before leaving this white space, the distant feet of fellow soldiers pacing through as this thin-lanky figure began the arduous Journey to the port.

@waysxftheforce

[the-nerd-up-north]

A pale stare as she saw a form rise from the Bend of Reality, Mists left from these great magics would peel away as green eyes illuminated in the dark, the light of the warm candlelight like embers would like purpose begin to illuminate. Light, dancing with shadow as red hair would be the next to reveal itself, a freckled face, sleepless in those eyes of theirs but a confusion would furrow, but their thought wasn’t as scattered as a young woman’s would be; no there was *unknown experience* under her glance as she couldn’t help but nervously laugh.

“Well, it wasn’t supposed to be you— then this… this is *really* bad.”

You would feel an oddly *strong* but intricate sigil? No, a silent Promise.that made a ring around this circle. It wasn’t to harm but to keep unpowered, and unable to leave the circle or interact with it’s chalk. — It was almost its own language but in one that any could speak. This was a *complicated* work.

That you could see took *much* energy from the user as they take a shot of something clear, and then a glass of orange juice as they are having to use their arms to hold themselves up.

“…. Well, if you’re really her brother, — do you know where Death is? How long she’s been missing even?” She asks. “Because things are getting Really shitty down here really quick I’ll tell you that.” She says approaching the sigil as they would get close, almost as if trying to see *something*

But it only took a moment to see the true aura over this figure and the powerful shadow they casted.

“….this was only a precautionary measure, I never tested this with her, kind of, for emergencies only.”

A booted heel quickly marking the chalk, a word broken, a promise broken, and the sigil fell apart like it was only ash.

There was a tension as this woman would pull out a box of cigerettes. “Before you toss me into — god knows what for something, I Didn’t mean to do— can we talk for a second?”

This room felt like a dark reflection, an old hall of a library, made into almost a living room space which was moved aside to make— well. The sigil In question. Old musky books leaving that scent that lingered in the floor-lit air.

[brokenandlonelysouls]

·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇̇·̇ ❉❯ 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓹𝓱𝓮𝓾𝓼/𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶❮❉·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇̇·̇

𝙈orpheus was feeling defensive and for good reason. It was clear that he was not sure if he could trust her. ❝ Last time I was summoned instead of my sister, I was held against my will and imprisoned, so forgive me if I don't have any reason to trust you. ❞ His thoughts went back to Burgees and how he had been held against his will. How his dear Jessamy had been shot infront of him. He tensed as he tried to not show any emotion.

❝ She's missing? ❞ what Alice was saying was concerning to say the least. He hadn't seen his sister for awhile come to think of it. If she truly was missing then things would be not going well. It had been bad enough when he wasn't there to do his job due to his capture. But this could be worse, much worse. ❝Fine... then talk. ❞ He was guarded and still on edge, He wasn't going to give anybody a chance to outsmart him or hold him here.

●○●○●○●○●━■━●○●○●○●○●

[the-nerd-up-north]

“Well, I literally just broke my only defense between you and me so excuse me for asking for a little trust,” she says as she sighed, hand grabbing for the whole-- Vodka bottle? Taking a Swig and setting it down. 

“People aren’t dying, I know that doesn’t sound right but it is. you get shot, you get stabbed, you jump off a 10-story building? you're gonna be in the worst pain of your existence sure but you get what I mean. Normally, well-- people go all dull-eyed and pass on but, she's not there to bring them to that bridge."

Her hands would reach to a table as she picked up a tomb, rifling through it with quick thought before setting it back down again, another sheet, and another like a detective, going over her "Evidence".

A hand waved and the candles were snuffed from the room before she would move to the door, quietly flipping a light on, as this two-story (albeit quaint compared to the collection within the dreaming) Library would be illuminated with yellow light, this place looked worn, if not well lived in as she sighed. "I have been trying for days to contact her, this was my last ditch effort, she gave me this spell to contact her-- and well, obviously either she or someone else doesn't want her found, but she wouldn't abandon her post, not like this."

[the-nerd-up-north]

Here in Darkness,

Here in Darkness,

here in Darkness."

We begin our tale, just as the last, with a spell.

Chalk creates boundaries, indicating the leylines of the earth, and the cardinal directions. This needed to be Exact, quickly, this flame-haired figure would begin to stand as she chanted, focusing on the point at which the leylines ran parallel to the cardinal points.

Their hands would raise as candlelight would begin to illuminate in this sunless room.

"Here in Darkness, I give you a Penny from the Grave." She sets at the Eastern point. The air around her within this open yet cluttered space would almost breathe dryly as she began to walk around the circle. candles lighting a few spots, leaving the silhouette of a short-haired woman as well as the Shiloette of masks, old musky papers, and cluttered bookshelves.

"Here in Darkness, I give you The Blood Of an immortal." She pulls an old blade out, silently driving it into her palm as a dark scarlet drips onto the Easternmost point.

"Herein I give you the blade from under the hills, that so drew it." She begins to feel the energy begin to pulse, almost as if a well of gravity was forming from the center-- it's working.

Keep going, we have to finish this.

We’ve got one shot.

"Here in Darkness, I give you a Feather, Pulled from the Angel Azrael!”

She would set the feather down to the north, Quickly watching as the chalk lines ignite. She felt the pull-- but it felt almost like a struggle. Something was holding her back. This strong-framed woman would carefully remove her jacket, revealing the imprint of scars on her shoulder blades and running further down her back under the off-white singlet. They would begin to ignite under her pale frame, her body contorting to struggle under a burning agony as she shakily raised her hands.

"Here in Darkness I summon you, the one I call compatriot." Running down her spine these scarred runes would begin to pulse with the same light as the chalk lines below.

"Here in Darkness, I summon Death to my door."

It was almost like a fish fighting a pole, she could feel something pull from behind this well but it was fighting-- certainly, it was whoever was keeping her down, She knew the consequences that would come in her absence, she must have!

She would focus, her mind centering on this point as she stared with intensity, slowly forced into a yell as she felt something take hold and finally surface. The candles within this room would all die in a single gust of wind.

The first thing Dream would hear as he was drawn into the waking world would be a hopeful, but uncertain voice. American, certain, but youthful.

“….Who have I Summoned?” Almost precautionary as the lights from the digits would dim, like after heating the glass to a red, the wood on the floorboards would return to its prior color.

The stone of this place settling above them.

“Who are you?”

@brokenandlonelysouls

[brokenandlonelysouls]

·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇̇·̇ ❉❯ 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓹𝓱𝓮𝓾𝓼/𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶❮❉·̇·̣̇̇·̣̣̇̇·̇

𝙉ot this again ! Morpheus could feel the pull of being summoned again. He was not going to miss his meeting with Hob again! Though he had started to visit his friend more lately. Even if he had seen him only a week ago. He still wasn't impressed with being summoned. He wondered who it was this time and was hoping he would not end up prisoner again. His raven Matthew wasn't with him. Which was both good and bad. ❝ I am Dream of The Endless❞ he started. There was what could only be described as a deep scowl on his face. ❝ What is it you want, ?Because I assure you, You can't hold me here. ❞ He continued to speak. He could see that this time he had been summoned by a girl. Though it seemed she knew magic and how to summon beings like him. The lord of Dreams had places to be. She looked and sounded young too. He wondered if she even knew what she was doing or not. He hadn't expected to be caught off gaurd yet again. ●○●○●○●○●━■━●○●○●○●○●

[the-nerd-up-north]

A pale stare as she saw a form rise from the Bend of Reality, Mists left from these great magics would peel away as green eyes illuminated in the dark, the light of the warm candlelight like embers would like purpose begin to illuminate. Light, dancing with shadow as red hair would be the next to reveal itself, a freckled face, sleepless in those eyes of theirs but a confusion would furrow, but their thought wasn’t as scattered as a young woman’s would be; no there was *unknown experience* under her glance as she couldn’t help but nervously laugh.

“Well, it wasn’t supposed to be you— then this… this is *really* bad.”

You would feel an oddly *strong* but intricate sigil? No, a silent Promise.that made a ring around this circle. It wasn’t to harm but to keep unpowered, and unable to leave the circle or interact with it’s chalk. — It was almost its own language but in one that any could speak. This was a *complicated* work.

That you could see took *much* energy from the user as they take a shot of something clear, and then a glass of orange juice as they are having to use their arms to hold themselves up.

“…. Well, if you’re really her brother, — do you know where Death is? How long she’s been missing even?” She asks. “Because things are getting Really shitty down here really quick I’ll tell you that.” She says approaching the sigil as they would get close, almost as if trying to see *something*

But it only took a moment to see the true aura over this figure and the powerful shadow they casted.

“….this was only a precautionary measure, I never tested this with her, kind of, for emergencies only.”

A booted heel quickly marking the chalk, a word broken, a promise broken, and the sigil fell apart like it was only ash.

There was a tension as this woman would pull out a box of cigerettes. “Before you toss me into — god knows what for something, I Didn’t mean to do— can we talk for a second?”

This room felt like a dark reflection, an old hall of a library, made into almost a living room space which was moved aside to make— well. The sigil In question. Old musky books leaving that scent that lingered in the floor-lit air.

[the-nerd-up-north]

Here in Darkness,

Here in Darkness,

here in Darkness."

We begin our tale, just as the last, with a spell.

Chalk creates boundaries, indicating the leylines of the earth, and the cardinal directions. This needed to be Exact, quickly, this flame-haired figure would begin to stand as she chanted, focusing on the point at which the leylines ran parallel to the cardinal points.

Their hands would raise as candlelight would begin to illuminate in this sunless room.

"Here in Darkness, I give you a Penny from the Grave." She sets at the Eastern point. The air around her within this open yet cluttered space would almost breathe dryly as she began to walk around the circle. candles lighting a few spots, leaving the silhouette of a short-haired woman as well as the Shiloette of masks, old musky papers, and cluttered bookshelves.

"Here in Darkness, I give you The Blood Of an immortal." She pulls an old blade out, silently driving it into her palm as a dark scarlet drips onto the Easternmost point.

"Herein I give you the blade from under the hills, that so drew it." She begins to feel the energy begin to pulse, almost as if a well of gravity was forming from the center-- it's working.

Keep going, we have to finish this.

We’ve got one shot.

"Here in Darkness, I give you a Feather, Pulled from the Angel Azrael!”

She would set the feather down to the north, Quickly watching as the chalk lines ignite. She felt the pull-- but it felt almost like a struggle. Something was holding her back. This strong-framed woman would carefully remove her jacket, revealing the imprint of scars on her shoulder blades and running further down her back under the off-white singlet. They would begin to ignite under her pale frame, her body contorting to struggle under a burning agony as she shakily raised her hands.

"Here in Darkness I summon you, the one I call compatriot." Running down her spine these scarred runes would begin to pulse with the same light as the chalk lines below.

"Here in Darkness, I summon Death to my door."

It was almost like a fish fighting a pole, she could feel something pull from behind this well but it was fighting-- certainly, it was whoever was keeping her down, She knew the consequences that would come in her absence, she must have!

She would focus, her mind centering on this point as she stared with intensity, slowly forced into a yell as she felt something take hold and finally surface. The candles within this room would all die in a single gust of wind.

The first thing Dream would hear as he was drawn into the waking world would be a hopeful, but uncertain voice. American, certain, but youthful.

“….Who have I Summoned?” Almost precautionary as the lights from the digits would dim, like after heating the glass to a red, the wood on the floorboards would return to its prior color.

The stone of this place settling above them.

“Who are you?”

@brokenandlonelysouls

[the-nerd-up-north]

[meme-templates]

WHY WEREN’T YOU AT ELF PRACTICE

[the-nerd-up-north]

The sandman, The Mad Sage, And The Knight

"Here in Darkness, here in Darkness, here in Darkness." We begin our tale, just as the last, with a spell. Chalk , indicating the direction of the leylines of the earth, as well as the cardinal directions. This needed to be Exact, quickly, this figure would begin to stand as she chanted, focusing on the point which the leylines ran paralell to the cardinal points. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Penny from the Grave." She sets at the Eastern point. The air around her within this open yet cluttered space would almost breath dryly as she began to walk around the circle. candles lighting a few spots, leaving the shiloette of a short haired woman as well as the Shiloette of masks, old musky papers, and cluttered bookshelves. "Here in Darkness, I give you The blood Of an immortal." she pulls an old blade out, silently driving it into her palm as a dark scarlet would drip onto the Eastern point. "And I give you the blade from under the hills, that so drew it." She begins to feel the energy begin to pulse, almost as if a well of gravity was forming from the center-- it's actually working.

Keep going, we must finish this. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Feather, Pulled from the Angel Azrael." She would set the feather down to the north, Quickly watching as the chalklines ignite. She felt the pull-- but it felt almost like a struggle. Something was holding her back. This strong framed woman would carefully remove her jacket, revealing the imprint of scars on her shoulder blades and running further down her back under the offwhite singlet. They would begin to ignite as she raised her hands up. "Here in Darkness I summon you, the one I call my Friend." Running down her spine these scarred runes would begin to pulse with the same pattern as the chalk lines below. "Here in Darkness I summon Death to my door." It was almost like a fish fighting a pole, she could feel something pull from behind this well but it was fighting-- certainly it was whoever was keeping her down, she knew the concequences that would come in her absince, she must have! She would focus, her mind centering on this point as she stared with intensity, slowly forced into a yell as she feels something take hold and finally surface. The candles within this room would all die in a single gust of wind. The first thing dream would hear as he was drawn into the the waking world would be a hopeful, but uncertain voice. American, certainly-- but youthful. "My Friend, Is that you?" @drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream was tending to his realm, as he often did lately. He could not allow himself to relax until it was returned to his former glory and extra defenses were added. He may have been victorious in his battle with Lucifer, but he knew the war between them had just begun.

He was working on shoring up the realm's defenses when he felt a strange tug deep inside his essence. The feeling sent cold fear down his spine. He had felt this before. Once. It was not a sensation he wanted to experience ever again.

The sand at his feet began to move of its own accord, attempting to slowly envelop him in it. He fought against it, and against the helplessness he'd never wanted to feel again. The only possible conclusion was this was a follower of Burgess, attempting to summon him to continue what Burgess had failed to do.

Whatever magic that summoned him was more powerful than he had the strength to resist. He collapsed, feeling cold stone against his cheek instead of the warm sands of his realm. He could feel the confines of the summoning circle weighing down his power, weakening him to the point he could hardly move.

His eyes opened at the voice, blurred images slowly coming into focus. For a moment, he saw Roderick Burgess once more, sneering over him. The man's expression ignited a painful mixture of fear and hatred. When he blinked, the form became a woman. But he still could not find relief in that. He did not reply, the summoning circle rendering even such simple actions nearly impossible. Even if he could speak, he would not allow this magician such an opportunity.

[the-nerd-up-north]

It was very much a feeling similar to thick fog, the air was dense, gravitational almost as this darkness enveloped the room. There was a hitch in her breath as she was responded to by simple silence. His hands would feel a cold floor— but not stone— Wood. It was old, but well kept. Enough to allow for the markings to still be effective. There would be a single light, one that would appear with the flick of a thumb, almost as if a non-existent lighter sparked to life. Her hand would quietly sweep out from under a pair of Warm Dusk-Brown eyes. Sending the flame across the room, silently dancing from one candle, to another, slowly revealing this cloaked form to her. Before Dream stood a Woman, Old enough to be an adult but young enough to have kept — something, behind those eyes of hers. She looked, tired but not weak. Wearing a Wifebeater, worn Blue Jeans, and a simple pair of brown combat boots; Which whern’t beaten up as much as they have seen an ungodly amount of Wear over the years.

She stare, confused. “You’re not...” she would frown, sighing, slowly walking up as she knelt down to meet him at eye level. “... she told me this would work— which means...” she would keep a neutral stare, brows furrowed in thought. “... are you the bastard who’s keeping her locked up?”

“you’re certainly not human, if you were— well... this wouldn’t work on you now would it?” She asks, this tired laugh would reverberate through her chest, quietly pulling a cigarette out from a metal tin. Tilting her head. “Not a chatty one are you? — And don’t give me that fucking glare, you did this to yourself.” The accent said american— Midwest; “ I know you can talk even with this seal active, so, I’m gonna ask this nicely. Where are you keeping her?” She Would light it silently, you’d watch the snap as sparks Between the fingers would cause an ignition. She’d burn the tip as she ignited it, having enough decency to keep the smoke away but close enough to allow for a discomfort to settle in. Her jaw clenching as the small light at the end of the cigarette would reflect these small flakes of green in her eyes.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

As his senses slowly return to him, he feels the slight roughness of the wood against his cheek. His eyes don't leave her for a moment as she approaches, and he wishes her boot might smudge the runes in a moment of distraction--anything to give him a chance to escape.

But her words spark alarm, though he kept the emotion carefully concealed behind a gaze of cold hatred. He remains silent, letting her continue to speak. One often got more information with silence rather than questions.

He knows who she's speaking of, though she hasn't said her name--Death. His sister. Who else could it be? It was easy to assume this woman was a follower of Burgess' cult, and she was trying to continue what he had failed to do. It seemed like the most logical solution, though the pieces of the puzzle didn't quite fit together. For one, he didn't understand why she asked if he was keeping Death captive. Did she think he was Death's keeper? Or was his sister in danger he had not yet uncovered?

The smoky, almost sweet smell of the cigarette quickly fills his nose. He never understood why humans would defile themselves with such substances. He pushes himself up on his forearms with great difficulty, the protective circle weakening him. Remaining silent was so tempting, but he could not risk harm coming to his sister through his own inaction.

"Why do you believe I am her keeper?"

[the-nerd-up-north]

There was something old, earthy mixed into it as well, she’d watch him slowly crawl up from his spot on the ground, keeping to the balls of her feet she’d sat up, a single arm on her knees. She’d look, contemplative as he spoke. Looking back at him, she furrowed her brow.

“Because nobody’s Dying.” She says, very matter of factly. She seemed almost, shaken, Uneasy, but kept it under a mask of stone. She’d adjust her footing as she pulled from the ember that would slowly crawl up the paper. “And when I say that, I’m not being hyperbolic. She, gave me this ritual to summon her willingly, but, something struggled, then you came out.” She said very matter-of-factly, the floorboards almost seem to be pulsing with energy, slowly scattering off, remnants of what energy had been used for the ritual. It almost seemed to backlight this woman, just ever so faintly-- a gentle light, that grew dim as time would go on. The slight Incomprehensible buzz of the Runes, and markers replacing it.

Silently she would wait, expectantly, before exhaling away. The gears turned in her mind. She looked at this impossibly pale man in front of her. For now, there was an uncertain respect for whatever sat in front of her.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

"Nobody's dying."

His brows lift at the words. So Death was in danger. She'd certainly wouldn't abandon her position like their brother had. But to say that Death had given a human a ritual to summon her... It was unfathomable to him, but he knew Death had a much deeper connection with humanity than he.

"Release me." His voice comes out softly, but with an undeniable commanding edge to it.

He could not continue in such a weakened, helpless state. Or, more accurately, he did not want to. He had felt such emotions for far too long, and they were still painfully fresh in his mind though he tried not to allow it in his thoughts.

It seemed as though this woman needed help--she had tried to summon Death after all. He hoped his senses were accurate because then he would have leverage over her, which, with any luck, would make her more likely to release him.

[the-nerd-up-north]

She’d raise a single brow as he spoke down to her, yet she was the one at a higher sitting position. She wasn’t prideful— but she wasn’t a fool.

“Give—“ she hesitated. “No, Tell me your name.” She was careful with her words. “I don’t know who you are, or why the summoning took you, I let you out and I don’t know what you’ll do.” Her eyes were slightly narrowed, sharp as she rested the stick on her lips. “You asked me questions, yet I haven’t got any answers from you.” She speaks, coming close enough to skirt the sigil but never break it. There was a certain air to her, magician or not, She knew she had all the cards, it just depended on if this— being, would play along.

from this distance, you could see the edges of the scars on her shoulders, teeth, and claw marks, as well as these detailed brands that would reach from her shoulder to the elbow. It was much too dark to make sense of— what sort of symbols they were but they were certainly old, and done with a purpose.

“Why should I trust you?” She asks simply.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream noted she was careful not to ask him to give her his name. "I'm Dream of the Endless," he said, lifting his chin. She may not be prideful, but he certainly was.

"You have no reason to trust me," he said plainly. "But you will not be able to contain me forever. If you keep me captive, not only will humans never die, some will also never dream while others will dream endlessly."

He paused to let his words sink in, a cold glare on his face. "When I break your hold, the waking world will be in further disarray and I will not be merciful with you." He almost growled the words, the muscles in his jaw tightening with anger.

"Or... you can release me now, and I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to find Death. You have given me no reason to trust you. This situation requires some trust from both of us."

[the-nerd-up-north]

Her breath would hitch; for just a moment when she heard the name, Like the pieces all stitched together in one moment. A small amused smile would grow on her face before she thought for a moment. "Don't get your cloak in a twist." She'd let a whisper of a chuckle out of her throat. "You know; from what I was told, I expected you to be scarier." She Jests before she takes the cigarette, nearing its end as she uses the sigil to put out the butt.

"an'--I'm not an idiot, I'm just careful." She'd stand up, quietly turn and flick the butt onto a small clear ashtray before putting her hands in her jean pockets. "I'm surprised her family hasn't caught wind yet, thought you a--.. aren't you guy's supposed to be all-knowing or some shit?" She asks as she keeps him in her eyeline, Just for now. There was a slight unease to her, the muscles in her arms-- just faintly tense, ready for any movement of retaliation.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream liked this human less and less. She was exceedingly condescending and annoying. "We are not omniscient, no. Not quite." It was something similar, but mostly only in regards to their own realms. Not to mention the horrifying thought of attempting to keep tabs on all his siblings at all times.

"Will you release me or not?"

His already thin patience was being stretched to its limits. Worry for his sister bubbled up inside him, though he kept the feeling carefully contained. He had no desire to allow this human to see such a vulnerable emotion.

[the-nerd-up-north]

Before he could think about asking his question the cigarette put out on the sigil would cause a soft smoke before the red chalk would almost wither away, not before a gentle return of power would emanate through, it was— almost celestial in nature as this sense of warmth would return.

This was a containment spell yes, but it was also supposed to —oddly allow for some sense of recovery— healing magics of— some form. She would turn to a desk, quietly grabbing a amber decanter, silently she would pour into a glass, revealing old, Enochian carvings on her back. She was keeping emotions at bay but would just let out a slight nervousness. “I’m a —Acquaintance of your sisters, I’ve met her enough times she trusted me with…” she waves her hand that grabbed the crystal glass to the now fading quickly sigil. “This busted shit.” “I’m not looking for trouble, just some answers.” She says taking a careful drink of the glass before setting it down, pulling over another empty glass beside the decanter in silent offer as she ever so slightly leaned to the desk. Other hand perched down behind her to keep balance.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

The weight lifted from the Dream Lord's shoulders as the containment spell faded. He got his feet under him and stood slowly, seething with silent rage. This... this human needed to atone for her actions. For trapping him, for making him feel helpless. It would be so easy, and he could picture it in his mind's eye. Eternally waking, never to find respite in sleep ever again. Such a form of insanity would certainly lead to a shortened life.

But she was–apparently–an acquaintance of Death. That might be enough to keep his wrath at bay. At least for now, until he could find his sister. Or until this human angered him again.

His gaze drifts to the second glass, empty in invitation. Human sustenance had no effect on him, and he saw no beneficial reason to take up the offer. If it was meant as a peace offering, then perhaps she feared him. As she should.

"What do you know if my sister's disappearance?"

[the-nerd-up-north]

She seemed to sigh out of her nose, a tad uncomfortably as she recognized the look in his eyes. It always unsettled her, her fingers gripping the glass with pressure from her fingertips, straining the joints.

“Like, I said before. I’ve… had the…misfortune? …” she hesitates as she stares frustrated. “it’s complicated but… I died, she wasn’t there, I came back, and people in the area, well. They aren't as durable as I am and well; I’m sure there’s a statistic out there somewhere about death tolls, and accidents and…” clearing her throat. “Even if you’ve been through a meat grinder—somehow there’s still, sentience in what’s left.” “It started 6 hours ago, I don’t understand why but I know whenever someone dies, she’s there, every single time no matter what. But it’s like, without her they’re stuck.” She paused. “She, Quit at some point, told me the story one time, felt like a fairy tale the way she told it.” She smiled a bit tiredly, certainly weakened from the spell.

“But I remember her focusing on the people it affected, no matter what happened to them, they never died. And not in an…intact form.” She says uncomfortably, tilting the drink towards her lips, finishing it in a single swig.“And from what I’ve investigated in the nearby town after multiple calls from a local priest... Well, I think you can guess.” She set the drink down. Looking to the floor. “I understand what I did was unkind, but you can take your pound of flesh once we figure out where she is.”

@drcamofthecndless

[the-nerd-up-north]

The sandman, The Mad Sage, And The Knight

"Here in Darkness, here in Darkness, here in Darkness." We begin our tale, just as the last, with a spell. Chalk , indicating the direction of the leylines of the earth, as well as the cardinal directions. This needed to be Exact, quickly, this figure would begin to stand as she chanted, focusing on the point which the leylines ran paralell to the cardinal points. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Penny from the Grave." She sets at the Eastern point. The air around her within this open yet cluttered space would almost breath dryly as she began to walk around the circle. candles lighting a few spots, leaving the shiloette of a short haired woman as well as the Shiloette of masks, old musky papers, and cluttered bookshelves. "Here in Darkness, I give you The blood Of an immortal." she pulls an old blade out, silently driving it into her palm as a dark scarlet would drip onto the Eastern point. "And I give you the blade from under the hills, that so drew it." She begins to feel the energy begin to pulse, almost as if a well of gravity was forming from the center-- it's actually working.

Keep going, we must finish this. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Feather, Pulled from the Angel Azrael." She would set the feather down to the north, Quickly watching as the chalklines ignite. She felt the pull-- but it felt almost like a struggle. Something was holding her back. This strong framed woman would carefully remove her jacket, revealing the imprint of scars on her shoulder blades and running further down her back under the offwhite singlet. They would begin to ignite as she raised her hands up. "Here in Darkness I summon you, the one I call my Friend." Running down her spine these scarred runes would begin to pulse with the same pattern as the chalk lines below. "Here in Darkness I summon Death to my door." It was almost like a fish fighting a pole, she could feel something pull from behind this well but it was fighting-- certainly it was whoever was keeping her down, she knew the concequences that would come in her absince, she must have! She would focus, her mind centering on this point as she stared with intensity, slowly forced into a yell as she feels something take hold and finally surface. The candles within this room would all die in a single gust of wind. The first thing dream would hear as he was drawn into the the waking world would be a hopeful, but uncertain voice. American, certainly-- but youthful. "My Friend, Is that you?" @drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream was tending to his realm, as he often did lately. He could not allow himself to relax until it was returned to his former glory and extra defenses were added. He may have been victorious in his battle with Lucifer, but he knew the war between them had just begun.

He was working on shoring up the realm's defenses when he felt a strange tug deep inside his essence. The feeling sent cold fear down his spine. He had felt this before. Once. It was not a sensation he wanted to experience ever again.

The sand at his feet began to move of its own accord, attempting to slowly envelop him in it. He fought against it, and against the helplessness he'd never wanted to feel again. The only possible conclusion was this was a follower of Burgess, attempting to summon him to continue what Burgess had failed to do.

Whatever magic that summoned him was more powerful than he had the strength to resist. He collapsed, feeling cold stone against his cheek instead of the warm sands of his realm. He could feel the confines of the summoning circle weighing down his power, weakening him to the point he could hardly move.

His eyes opened at the voice, blurred images slowly coming into focus. For a moment, he saw Roderick Burgess once more, sneering over him. The man's expression ignited a painful mixture of fear and hatred. When he blinked, the form became a woman. But he still could not find relief in that. He did not reply, the summoning circle rendering even such simple actions nearly impossible. Even if he could speak, he would not allow this magician such an opportunity.

[the-nerd-up-north]

It was very much a feeling similar to thick fog, the air was dense, gravitational almost as this darkness enveloped the room. There was a hitch in her breath as she was responded to by simple silence. His hands would feel a cold floor— but not stone— Wood. It was old, but well kept. Enough to allow for the markings to still be effective. There would be a single light, one that would appear with the flick of a thumb, almost as if a non-existent lighter sparked to life. Her hand would quietly sweep out from under a pair of Warm Dusk-Brown eyes. Sending the flame across the room, silently dancing from one candle, to another, slowly revealing this cloaked form to her. Before Dream stood a Woman, Old enough to be an adult but young enough to have kept — something, behind those eyes of hers. She looked, tired but not weak. Wearing a Wifebeater, worn Blue Jeans, and a simple pair of brown combat boots; Which whern’t beaten up as much as they have seen an ungodly amount of Wear over the years.

She stare, confused. “You’re not...” she would frown, sighing, slowly walking up as she knelt down to meet him at eye level. “... she told me this would work— which means...” she would keep a neutral stare, brows furrowed in thought. “... are you the bastard who’s keeping her locked up?”

“you’re certainly not human, if you were— well... this wouldn’t work on you now would it?” She asks, this tired laugh would reverberate through her chest, quietly pulling a cigarette out from a metal tin. Tilting her head. “Not a chatty one are you? — And don’t give me that fucking glare, you did this to yourself.” The accent said american— Midwest; “ I know you can talk even with this seal active, so, I’m gonna ask this nicely. Where are you keeping her?” She Would light it silently, you’d watch the snap as sparks Between the fingers would cause an ignition. She’d burn the tip as she ignited it, having enough decency to keep the smoke away but close enough to allow for a discomfort to settle in. Her jaw clenching as the small light at the end of the cigarette would reflect these small flakes of green in her eyes.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

As his senses slowly return to him, he feels the slight roughness of the wood against his cheek. His eyes don't leave her for a moment as she approaches, and he wishes her boot might smudge the runes in a moment of distraction--anything to give him a chance to escape.

But her words spark alarm, though he kept the emotion carefully concealed behind a gaze of cold hatred. He remains silent, letting her continue to speak. One often got more information with silence rather than questions.

He knows who she's speaking of, though she hasn't said her name--Death. His sister. Who else could it be? It was easy to assume this woman was a follower of Burgess' cult, and she was trying to continue what he had failed to do. It seemed like the most logical solution, though the pieces of the puzzle didn't quite fit together. For one, he didn't understand why she asked if he was keeping Death captive. Did she think he was Death's keeper? Or was his sister in danger he had not yet uncovered?

The smoky, almost sweet smell of the cigarette quickly fills his nose. He never understood why humans would defile themselves with such substances. He pushes himself up on his forearms with great difficulty, the protective circle weakening him. Remaining silent was so tempting, but he could not risk harm coming to his sister through his own inaction.

"Why do you believe I am her keeper?"

[the-nerd-up-north]

There was something old, earthy mixed into it as well, she’d watch him slowly crawl up from his spot on the ground, keeping to the balls of her feet she’d sat up, a single arm on her knees. She’d look, contemplative as he spoke. Looking back at him, she furrowed her brow.

“Because nobody’s Dying.” She says, very matter of factly. She seemed almost, shaken, Uneasy, but kept it under a mask of stone. She’d adjust her footing as she pulled from the ember that would slowly crawl up the paper. “And when I say that, I’m not being hyperbolic. She, gave me this ritual to summon her willingly, but, something struggled, then you came out.” She said very matter-of-factly, the floorboards almost seem to be pulsing with energy, slowly scattering off, remnants of what energy had been used for the ritual. It almost seemed to backlight this woman, just ever so faintly-- a gentle light, that grew dim as time would go on. The slight Incomprehensible buzz of the Runes, and markers replacing it.

Silently she would wait, expectantly, before exhaling away. The gears turned in her mind. She looked at this impossibly pale man in front of her. For now, there was an uncertain respect for whatever sat in front of her.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

"Nobody's dying."

His brows lift at the words. So Death was in danger. She'd certainly wouldn't abandon her position like their brother had. But to say that Death had given a human a ritual to summon her... It was unfathomable to him, but he knew Death had a much deeper connection with humanity than he.

"Release me." His voice comes out softly, but with an undeniable commanding edge to it.

He could not continue in such a weakened, helpless state. Or, more accurately, he did not want to. He had felt such emotions for far too long, and they were still painfully fresh in his mind though he tried not to allow it in his thoughts.

It seemed as though this woman needed help--she had tried to summon Death after all. He hoped his senses were accurate because then he would have leverage over her, which, with any luck, would make her more likely to release him.

[the-nerd-up-north]

She’d raise a single brow as he spoke down to her, yet she was the one at a higher sitting position. She wasn’t prideful— but she wasn’t a fool.

“Give—“ she hesitated. “No, Tell me your name.” She was careful with her words. “I don’t know who you are, or why the summoning took you, I let you out and I don’t know what you’ll do.” Her eyes were slightly narrowed, sharp as she rested the stick on her lips. “You asked me questions, yet I haven’t got any answers from you.” She speaks, coming close enough to skirt the sigil but never break it. There was a certain air to her, magician or not, She knew she had all the cards, it just depended on if this— being, would play along.

from this distance, you could see the edges of the scars on her shoulders, teeth, and claw marks, as well as these detailed brands that would reach from her shoulder to the elbow. It was much too dark to make sense of— what sort of symbols they were but they were certainly old, and done with a purpose.

“Why should I trust you?” She asks simply.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream noted she was careful not to ask him to give her his name. "I'm Dream of the Endless," he said, lifting his chin. She may not be prideful, but he certainly was.

"You have no reason to trust me," he said plainly. "But you will not be able to contain me forever. If you keep me captive, not only will humans never die, some will also never dream while others will dream endlessly."

He paused to let his words sink in, a cold glare on his face. "When I break your hold, the waking world will be in further disarray and I will not be merciful with you." He almost growled the words, the muscles in his jaw tightening with anger.

"Or... you can release me now, and I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to find Death. You have given me no reason to trust you. This situation requires some trust from both of us."

[the-nerd-up-north]

Her breath would hitch; for just a moment when she heard the name, Like the pieces all stitched together in one moment. A small amused smile would grow on her face before she thought for a moment. "Don't get your cloak in a twist." She'd let a whisper of a chuckle out of her throat. "You know; from what I was told, I expected you to be scarier." She Jests before she takes the cigarette, nearing its end as she uses the sigil to put out the butt.

"an'--I'm not an idiot, I'm just careful." She'd stand up, quietly turn and flick the butt onto a small clear ashtray before putting her hands in her jean pockets. "I'm surprised her family hasn't caught wind yet, thought you a--.. aren't you guy's supposed to be all-knowing or some shit?" She asks as she keeps him in her eyeline, Just for now. There was a slight unease to her, the muscles in her arms-- just faintly tense, ready for any movement of retaliation.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream liked this human less and less. She was exceedingly condescending and annoying. "We are not omniscient, no. Not quite." It was something similar, but mostly only in regards to their own realms. Not to mention the horrifying thought of attempting to keep tabs on all his siblings at all times.

"Will you release me or not?"

His already thin patience was being stretched to its limits. Worry for his sister bubbled up inside him, though he kept the feeling carefully contained. He had no desire to allow this human to see such a vulnerable emotion.

[the-nerd-up-north]

Before he could think about asking his question the cigarette put out on the sigil would cause a soft smoke before the red chalk would almost wither away, not before a gentle return of power would emanate through, it was— almost celestial in nature as this sense of warmth would return.

This was a containment spell yes, but it was also supposed to —oddly allow for some sense of recovery— healing magics of— some form. She would turn to a desk, quietly grabbing a amber decanter, silently she would pour into a glass, revealing old, Enochian carvings on her back. She was keeping emotions at bay but would just let out a slight nervousness. “I’m a —Acquaintance of your sisters, I’ve met her enough times she trusted me with…” she waves her hand that grabbed the crystal glass to the now fading quickly sigil. “This busted shit.” “I’m not looking for trouble, just some answers.” She says taking a careful drink of the glass before setting it down, pulling over another empty glass beside the decanter in silent offer as she ever so slightly leaned to the desk. Other hand perched down behind her to keep balance.

@drcamofthecndless

[valtsv]

[the-nerd-up-north]

The sandman, The Mad Sage, And The Knight

"Here in Darkness, here in Darkness, here in Darkness." We begin our tale, just as the last, with a spell. Chalk , indicating the direction of the leylines of the earth, as well as the cardinal directions. This needed to be Exact, quickly, this figure would begin to stand as she chanted, focusing on the point which the leylines ran paralell to the cardinal points. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Penny from the Grave." She sets at the Eastern point. The air around her within this open yet cluttered space would almost breath dryly as she began to walk around the circle. candles lighting a few spots, leaving the shiloette of a short haired woman as well as the Shiloette of masks, old musky papers, and cluttered bookshelves. "Here in Darkness, I give you The blood Of an immortal." she pulls an old blade out, silently driving it into her palm as a dark scarlet would drip onto the Eastern point. "And I give you the blade from under the hills, that so drew it." She begins to feel the energy begin to pulse, almost as if a well of gravity was forming from the center-- it's actually working.

Keep going, we must finish this. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Feather, Pulled from the Angel Azrael." She would set the feather down to the north, Quickly watching as the chalklines ignite. She felt the pull-- but it felt almost like a struggle. Something was holding her back. This strong framed woman would carefully remove her jacket, revealing the imprint of scars on her shoulder blades and running further down her back under the offwhite singlet. They would begin to ignite as she raised her hands up. "Here in Darkness I summon you, the one I call my Friend." Running down her spine these scarred runes would begin to pulse with the same pattern as the chalk lines below. "Here in Darkness I summon Death to my door." It was almost like a fish fighting a pole, she could feel something pull from behind this well but it was fighting-- certainly it was whoever was keeping her down, she knew the concequences that would come in her absince, she must have! She would focus, her mind centering on this point as she stared with intensity, slowly forced into a yell as she feels something take hold and finally surface. The candles within this room would all die in a single gust of wind. The first thing dream would hear as he was drawn into the the waking world would be a hopeful, but uncertain voice. American, certainly-- but youthful. "My Friend, Is that you?" @drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream was tending to his realm, as he often did lately. He could not allow himself to relax until it was returned to his former glory and extra defenses were added. He may have been victorious in his battle with Lucifer, but he knew the war between them had just begun.

He was working on shoring up the realm's defenses when he felt a strange tug deep inside his essence. The feeling sent cold fear down his spine. He had felt this before. Once. It was not a sensation he wanted to experience ever again.

The sand at his feet began to move of its own accord, attempting to slowly envelop him in it. He fought against it, and against the helplessness he'd never wanted to feel again. The only possible conclusion was this was a follower of Burgess, attempting to summon him to continue what Burgess had failed to do.

Whatever magic that summoned him was more powerful than he had the strength to resist. He collapsed, feeling cold stone against his cheek instead of the warm sands of his realm. He could feel the confines of the summoning circle weighing down his power, weakening him to the point he could hardly move.

His eyes opened at the voice, blurred images slowly coming into focus. For a moment, he saw Roderick Burgess once more, sneering over him. The man's expression ignited a painful mixture of fear and hatred. When he blinked, the form became a woman. But he still could not find relief in that. He did not reply, the summoning circle rendering even such simple actions nearly impossible. Even if he could speak, he would not allow this magician such an opportunity.

[the-nerd-up-north]

It was very much a feeling similar to thick fog, the air was dense, gravitational almost as this darkness enveloped the room. There was a hitch in her breath as she was responded to by simple silence. His hands would feel a cold floor— but not stone— Wood. It was old, but well kept. Enough to allow for the markings to still be effective. There would be a single light, one that would appear with the flick of a thumb, almost as if a non-existent lighter sparked to life. Her hand would quietly sweep out from under a pair of Warm Dusk-Brown eyes. Sending the flame across the room, silently dancing from one candle, to another, slowly revealing this cloaked form to her. Before Dream stood a Woman, Old enough to be an adult but young enough to have kept — something, behind those eyes of hers. She looked, tired but not weak. Wearing a Wifebeater, worn Blue Jeans, and a simple pair of brown combat boots; Which whern’t beaten up as much as they have seen an ungodly amount of Wear over the years.

She stare, confused. “You’re not...” she would frown, sighing, slowly walking up as she knelt down to meet him at eye level. “... she told me this would work— which means...” she would keep a neutral stare, brows furrowed in thought. “... are you the bastard who’s keeping her locked up?”

“you’re certainly not human, if you were— well... this wouldn’t work on you now would it?” She asks, this tired laugh would reverberate through her chest, quietly pulling a cigarette out from a metal tin. Tilting her head. “Not a chatty one are you? — And don’t give me that fucking glare, you did this to yourself.” The accent said american— Midwest; “ I know you can talk even with this seal active, so, I’m gonna ask this nicely. Where are you keeping her?” She Would light it silently, you’d watch the snap as sparks Between the fingers would cause an ignition. She’d burn the tip as she ignited it, having enough decency to keep the smoke away but close enough to allow for a discomfort to settle in. Her jaw clenching as the small light at the end of the cigarette would reflect these small flakes of green in her eyes.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

As his senses slowly return to him, he feels the slight roughness of the wood against his cheek. His eyes don't leave her for a moment as she approaches, and he wishes her boot might smudge the runes in a moment of distraction--anything to give him a chance to escape.

But her words spark alarm, though he kept the emotion carefully concealed behind a gaze of cold hatred. He remains silent, letting her continue to speak. One often got more information with silence rather than questions.

He knows who she's speaking of, though she hasn't said her name--Death. His sister. Who else could it be? It was easy to assume this woman was a follower of Burgess' cult, and she was trying to continue what he had failed to do. It seemed like the most logical solution, though the pieces of the puzzle didn't quite fit together. For one, he didn't understand why she asked if he was keeping Death captive. Did she think he was Death's keeper? Or was his sister in danger he had not yet uncovered?

The smoky, almost sweet smell of the cigarette quickly fills his nose. He never understood why humans would defile themselves with such substances. He pushes himself up on his forearms with great difficulty, the protective circle weakening him. Remaining silent was so tempting, but he could not risk harm coming to his sister through his own inaction.

"Why do you believe I am her keeper?"

[the-nerd-up-north]

There was something old, earthy mixed into it as well, she’d watch him slowly crawl up from his spot on the ground, keeping to the balls of her feet she’d sat up, a single arm on her knees. She’d look, contemplative as he spoke. Looking back at him, she furrowed her brow.

“Because nobody’s Dying.” She says, very matter of factly. She seemed almost, shaken, Uneasy, but kept it under a mask of stone. She’d adjust her footing as she pulled from the ember that would slowly crawl up the paper. “And when I say that, I’m not being hyperbolic. She, gave me this ritual to summon her willingly, but, something struggled, then you came out.” She said very matter-of-factly, the floorboards almost seem to be pulsing with energy, slowly scattering off, remnants of what energy had been used for the ritual. It almost seemed to backlight this woman, just ever so faintly-- a gentle light, that grew dim as time would go on. The slight Incomprehensible buzz of the Runes, and markers replacing it.

Silently she would wait, expectantly, before exhaling away. The gears turned in her mind. She looked at this impossibly pale man in front of her. For now, there was an uncertain respect for whatever sat in front of her.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

"Nobody's dying."

His brows lift at the words. So Death was in danger. She'd certainly wouldn't abandon her position like their brother had. But to say that Death had given a human a ritual to summon her... It was unfathomable to him, but he knew Death had a much deeper connection with humanity than he.

"Release me." His voice comes out softly, but with an undeniable commanding edge to it.

He could not continue in such a weakened, helpless state. Or, more accurately, he did not want to. He had felt such emotions for far too long, and they were still painfully fresh in his mind though he tried not to allow it in his thoughts.

It seemed as though this woman needed help--she had tried to summon Death after all. He hoped his senses were accurate because then he would have leverage over her, which, with any luck, would make her more likely to release him.

[the-nerd-up-north]

She’d raise a single brow as he spoke down to her, yet she was the one at a higher sitting position. She wasn’t prideful— but she wasn’t a fool.

“Give—“ she hesitated. “No, Tell me your name.” She was careful with her words. “I don’t know who you are, or why the summoning took you, I let you out and I don’t know what you’ll do.” Her eyes were slightly narrowed, sharp as she rested the stick on her lips. “You asked me questions, yet I haven’t got any answers from you.” She speaks, coming close enough to skirt the sigil but never break it. There was a certain air to her, magician or not, She knew she had all the cards, it just depended on if this— being, would play along.

from this distance, you could see the edges of the scars on her shoulders, teeth, and claw marks, as well as these detailed brands that would reach from her shoulder to the elbow. It was much too dark to make sense of— what sort of symbols they were but they were certainly old, and done with a purpose.

“Why should I trust you?” She asks simply.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream noted she was careful not to ask him to give her his name. "I'm Dream of the Endless," he said, lifting his chin. She may not be prideful, but he certainly was.

"You have no reason to trust me," he said plainly. "But you will not be able to contain me forever. If you keep me captive, not only will humans never die, some will also never dream while others will dream endlessly."

He paused to let his words sink in, a cold glare on his face. "When I break your hold, the waking world will be in further disarray and I will not be merciful with you." He almost growled the words, the muscles in his jaw tightening with anger.

"Or... you can release me now, and I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to find Death. You have given me no reason to trust you. This situation requires some trust from both of us."

[the-nerd-up-north]

Her breath would hitch; for just a moment when she heard the name, Like the pieces all stitched together in one moment. A small amused smile would grow on her face before she thought for a moment. "Don't get your cloak in a twist." She'd let a whisper of a chuckle out of her throat. "You know; from what I was told, I expected you to be scarier." She Jests before she takes the cigarette, nearing its end as she uses the sigil to put out the butt.

"an'--I'm not an idiot, I'm just careful." She'd stand up, quietly turn and flick the butt onto a small clear ashtray before putting her hands in her jean pockets. "I'm surprised her family hasn't caught wind yet, thought you a--.. aren't you guy's supposed to be all-knowing or some shit?" She asks as she keeps him in her eyeline, Just for now. There was a slight unease to her, the muscles in her arms-- just faintly tense, ready for any movement of retaliation.

@drcamofthecndless

[the-nerd-up-north]

The sandman, The Mad Sage, And The Knight

"Here in Darkness, here in Darkness, here in Darkness." We begin our tale, just as the last, with a spell. Chalk , indicating the direction of the leylines of the earth, as well as the cardinal directions. This needed to be Exact, quickly, this figure would begin to stand as she chanted, focusing on the point which the leylines ran paralell to the cardinal points. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Penny from the Grave." She sets at the Eastern point. The air around her within this open yet cluttered space would almost breath dryly as she began to walk around the circle. candles lighting a few spots, leaving the shiloette of a short haired woman as well as the Shiloette of masks, old musky papers, and cluttered bookshelves. "Here in Darkness, I give you The blood Of an immortal." she pulls an old blade out, silently driving it into her palm as a dark scarlet would drip onto the Eastern point. "And I give you the blade from under the hills, that so drew it." She begins to feel the energy begin to pulse, almost as if a well of gravity was forming from the center-- it's actually working.

Keep going, we must finish this. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Feather, Pulled from the Angel Azrael." She would set the feather down to the north, Quickly watching as the chalklines ignite. She felt the pull-- but it felt almost like a struggle. Something was holding her back. This strong framed woman would carefully remove her jacket, revealing the imprint of scars on her shoulder blades and running further down her back under the offwhite singlet. They would begin to ignite as she raised her hands up. "Here in Darkness I summon you, the one I call my Friend." Running down her spine these scarred runes would begin to pulse with the same pattern as the chalk lines below. "Here in Darkness I summon Death to my door." It was almost like a fish fighting a pole, she could feel something pull from behind this well but it was fighting-- certainly it was whoever was keeping her down, she knew the concequences that would come in her absince, she must have! She would focus, her mind centering on this point as she stared with intensity, slowly forced into a yell as she feels something take hold and finally surface. The candles within this room would all die in a single gust of wind. The first thing dream would hear as he was drawn into the the waking world would be a hopeful, but uncertain voice. American, certainly-- but youthful. "My Friend, Is that you?" @drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream was tending to his realm, as he often did lately. He could not allow himself to relax until it was returned to his former glory and extra defenses were added. He may have been victorious in his battle with Lucifer, but he knew the war between them had just begun.

He was working on shoring up the realm's defenses when he felt a strange tug deep inside his essence. The feeling sent cold fear down his spine. He had felt this before. Once. It was not a sensation he wanted to experience ever again.

The sand at his feet began to move of its own accord, attempting to slowly envelop him in it. He fought against it, and against the helplessness he'd never wanted to feel again. The only possible conclusion was this was a follower of Burgess, attempting to summon him to continue what Burgess had failed to do.

Whatever magic that summoned him was more powerful than he had the strength to resist. He collapsed, feeling cold stone against his cheek instead of the warm sands of his realm. He could feel the confines of the summoning circle weighing down his power, weakening him to the point he could hardly move.

His eyes opened at the voice, blurred images slowly coming into focus. For a moment, he saw Roderick Burgess once more, sneering over him. The man's expression ignited a painful mixture of fear and hatred. When he blinked, the form became a woman. But he still could not find relief in that. He did not reply, the summoning circle rendering even such simple actions nearly impossible. Even if he could speak, he would not allow this magician such an opportunity.

[the-nerd-up-north]

It was very much a feeling similar to thick fog, the air was dense, gravitational almost as this darkness enveloped the room. There was a hitch in her breath as she was responded to by simple silence. His hands would feel a cold floor— but not stone— Wood. It was old, but well kept. Enough to allow for the markings to still be effective. There would be a single light, one that would appear with the flick of a thumb, almost as if a non-existent lighter sparked to life. Her hand would quietly sweep out from under a pair of Warm Dusk-Brown eyes. Sending the flame across the room, silently dancing from one candle, to another, slowly revealing this cloaked form to her. Before Dream stood a Woman, Old enough to be an adult but young enough to have kept — something, behind those eyes of hers. She looked, tired but not weak. Wearing a Wifebeater, worn Blue Jeans, and a simple pair of brown combat boots; Which whern’t beaten up as much as they have seen an ungodly amount of Wear over the years.

She stare, confused. “You’re not...” she would frown, sighing, slowly walking up as she knelt down to meet him at eye level. “... she told me this would work— which means...” she would keep a neutral stare, brows furrowed in thought. “... are you the bastard who’s keeping her locked up?”

“you’re certainly not human, if you were— well... this wouldn’t work on you now would it?” She asks, this tired laugh would reverberate through her chest, quietly pulling a cigarette out from a metal tin. Tilting her head. “Not a chatty one are you? — And don’t give me that fucking glare, you did this to yourself.” The accent said american— Midwest; “ I know you can talk even with this seal active, so, I’m gonna ask this nicely. Where are you keeping her?” She Would light it silently, you’d watch the snap as sparks Between the fingers would cause an ignition. She’d burn the tip as she ignited it, having enough decency to keep the smoke away but close enough to allow for a discomfort to settle in. Her jaw clenching as the small light at the end of the cigarette would reflect these small flakes of green in her eyes.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

As his senses slowly return to him, he feels the slight roughness of the wood against his cheek. His eyes don't leave her for a moment as she approaches, and he wishes her boot might smudge the runes in a moment of distraction--anything to give him a chance to escape.

But her words spark alarm, though he kept the emotion carefully concealed behind a gaze of cold hatred. He remains silent, letting her continue to speak. One often got more information with silence rather than questions.

He knows who she's speaking of, though she hasn't said her name--Death. His sister. Who else could it be? It was easy to assume this woman was a follower of Burgess' cult, and she was trying to continue what he had failed to do. It seemed like the most logical solution, though the pieces of the puzzle didn't quite fit together. For one, he didn't understand why she asked if he was keeping Death captive. Did she think he was Death's keeper? Or was his sister in danger he had not yet uncovered?

The smoky, almost sweet smell of the cigarette quickly fills his nose. He never understood why humans would defile themselves with such substances. He pushes himself up on his forearms with great difficulty, the protective circle weakening him. Remaining silent was so tempting, but he could not risk harm coming to his sister through his own inaction.

"Why do you believe I am her keeper?"

[the-nerd-up-north]

There was something old, earthy mixed into it as well, she’d watch him slowly crawl up from his spot on the ground, keeping to the balls of her feet she’d sat up, a single arm on her knees. She’d look, contemplative as he spoke. Looking back at him, she furrowed her brow.

“Because nobody’s Dying.” She says, very matter of factly. She seemed almost, shaken, Uneasy, but kept it under a mask of stone. She’d adjust her footing as she pulled from the ember that would slowly crawl up the paper. “And when I say that, I’m not being hyperbolic. She, gave me this ritual to summon her willingly, but, something struggled, then you came out.” She said very matter-of-factly, the floorboards almost seem to be pulsing with energy, slowly scattering off, remnants of what energy had been used for the ritual. It almost seemed to backlight this woman, just ever so faintly-- a gentle light, that grew dim as time would go on. The slight Incomprehensible buzz of the Runes, and markers replacing it.

Silently she would wait, expectantly, before exhaling away. The gears turned in her mind. She looked at this impossibly pale man in front of her. For now, there was an uncertain respect for whatever sat in front of her.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

"Nobody's dying."

His brows lift at the words. So Death was in danger. She'd certainly wouldn't abandon her position like their brother had. But to say that Death had given a human a ritual to summon her... It was unfathomable to him, but he knew Death had a much deeper connection with humanity than he.

"Release me." His voice comes out softly, but with an undeniable commanding edge to it.

He could not continue in such a weakened, helpless state. Or, more accurately, he did not want to. He had felt such emotions for far too long, and they were still painfully fresh in his mind though he tried not to allow it in his thoughts.

It seemed as though this woman needed help--she had tried to summon Death after all. He hoped his senses were accurate because then he would have leverage over her, which, with any luck, would make her more likely to release him.

[the-nerd-up-north]

She’d raise a single brow as he spoke down to her, yet she was the one at a higher sitting position. She wasn’t prideful— but she wasn’t a fool.

“Give—“ she hesitated. “No, Tell me your name.” She was careful with her words. “I don’t know who you are, or why the summoning took you, I let you out and I don’t know what you’ll do.” Her eyes were slightly narrowed, sharp as she rested the stick on her lips. “You asked me questions, yet I haven’t got any answers from you.” She speaks, coming close enough to skirt the sigil but never break it. There was a certain air to her, magician or not, She knew she had all the cards, it just depended on if this— being, would play along.

from this distance, you could see the edges of the scars on her shoulders, teeth, and claw marks, as well as these detailed brands that would reach from her shoulder to the elbow. It was much too dark to make sense of— what sort of symbols they were but they were certainly old, and done with a purpose.

“Why should I trust you?” She asks simply.

@drcamofthecndless

[the-nerd-up-north]

The sandman, The Mad Sage, And The Knight

"Here in Darkness, here in Darkness, here in Darkness." We begin our tale, just as the last, with a spell. Chalk , indicating the direction of the leylines of the earth, as well as the cardinal directions. This needed to be Exact, quickly, this figure would begin to stand as she chanted, focusing on the point which the leylines ran paralell to the cardinal points. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Penny from the Grave." She sets at the Eastern point. The air around her within this open yet cluttered space would almost breath dryly as she began to walk around the circle. candles lighting a few spots, leaving the shiloette of a short haired woman as well as the Shiloette of masks, old musky papers, and cluttered bookshelves. "Here in Darkness, I give you The blood Of an immortal." she pulls an old blade out, silently driving it into her palm as a dark scarlet would drip onto the Eastern point. "And I give you the blade from under the hills, that so drew it." She begins to feel the energy begin to pulse, almost as if a well of gravity was forming from the center-- it's actually working.

Keep going, we must finish this. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Feather, Pulled from the Angel Azrael." She would set the feather down to the north, Quickly watching as the chalklines ignite. She felt the pull-- but it felt almost like a struggle. Something was holding her back. This strong framed woman would carefully remove her jacket, revealing the imprint of scars on her shoulder blades and running further down her back under the offwhite singlet. They would begin to ignite as she raised her hands up. "Here in Darkness I summon you, the one I call my Friend." Running down her spine these scarred runes would begin to pulse with the same pattern as the chalk lines below. "Here in Darkness I summon Death to my door." It was almost like a fish fighting a pole, she could feel something pull from behind this well but it was fighting-- certainly it was whoever was keeping her down, she knew the concequences that would come in her absince, she must have! She would focus, her mind centering on this point as she stared with intensity, slowly forced into a yell as she feels something take hold and finally surface. The candles within this room would all die in a single gust of wind. The first thing dream would hear as he was drawn into the the waking world would be a hopeful, but uncertain voice. American, certainly-- but youthful. "My Friend, Is that you?" @drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream was tending to his realm, as he often did lately. He could not allow himself to relax until it was returned to his former glory and extra defenses were added. He may have been victorious in his battle with Lucifer, but he knew the war between them had just begun.

He was working on shoring up the realm's defenses when he felt a strange tug deep inside his essence. The feeling sent cold fear down his spine. He had felt this before. Once. It was not a sensation he wanted to experience ever again.

The sand at his feet began to move of its own accord, attempting to slowly envelop him in it. He fought against it, and against the helplessness he'd never wanted to feel again. The only possible conclusion was this was a follower of Burgess, attempting to summon him to continue what Burgess had failed to do.

Whatever magic that summoned him was more powerful than he had the strength to resist. He collapsed, feeling cold stone against his cheek instead of the warm sands of his realm. He could feel the confines of the summoning circle weighing down his power, weakening him to the point he could hardly move.

His eyes opened at the voice, blurred images slowly coming into focus. For a moment, he saw Roderick Burgess once more, sneering over him. The man's expression ignited a painful mixture of fear and hatred. When he blinked, the form became a woman. But he still could not find relief in that. He did not reply, the summoning circle rendering even such simple actions nearly impossible. Even if he could speak, he would not allow this magician such an opportunity.

[the-nerd-up-north]

It was very much a feeling similar to thick fog, the air was dense, gravitational almost as this darkness enveloped the room. There was a hitch in her breath as she was responded to by simple silence. His hands would feel a cold floor— but not stone— Wood. It was old, but well kept. Enough to allow for the markings to still be effective. There would be a single light, one that would appear with the flick of a thumb, almost as if a non-existent lighter sparked to life. Her hand would quietly sweep out from under a pair of Warm Dusk-Brown eyes. Sending the flame across the room, silently dancing from one candle, to another, slowly revealing this cloaked form to her. Before Dream stood a Woman, Old enough to be an adult but young enough to have kept — something, behind those eyes of hers. She looked, tired but not weak. Wearing a Wifebeater, worn Blue Jeans, and a simple pair of brown combat boots; Which whern’t beaten up as much as they have seen an ungodly amount of Wear over the years.

She stare, confused. “You’re not...” she would frown, sighing, slowly walking up as she knelt down to meet him at eye level. “... she told me this would work— which means...” she would keep a neutral stare, brows furrowed in thought. “... are you the bastard who’s keeping her locked up?”

“you’re certainly not human, if you were— well... this wouldn’t work on you now would it?” She asks, this tired laugh would reverberate through her chest, quietly pulling a cigarette out from a metal tin. Tilting her head. “Not a chatty one are you? — And don’t give me that fucking glare, you did this to yourself.” The accent said american— Midwest; “ I know you can talk even with this seal active, so, I’m gonna ask this nicely. Where are you keeping her?” She Would light it silently, you’d watch the snap as sparks Between the fingers would cause an ignition. She’d burn the tip as she ignited it, having enough decency to keep the smoke away but close enough to allow for a discomfort to settle in. Her jaw clenching as the small light at the end of the cigarette would reflect these small flakes of green in her eyes.

@drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

As his senses slowly return to him, he feels the slight roughness of the wood against his cheek. His eyes don't leave her for a moment as she approaches, and he wishes her boot might smudge the runes in a moment of distraction--anything to give him a chance to escape.

But her words spark alarm, though he kept the emotion carefully concealed behind a gaze of cold hatred. He remains silent, letting her continue to speak. One often got more information with silence rather than questions.

He knows who she's speaking of, though she hasn't said her name--Death. His sister. Who else could it be? It was easy to assume this woman was a follower of Burgess' cult, and she was trying to continue what he had failed to do. It seemed like the most logical solution, though the pieces of the puzzle didn't quite fit together. For one, he didn't understand why she asked if he was keeping Death captive. Did she think he was Death's keeper? Or was his sister in danger he had not yet uncovered?

The smoky, almost sweet smell of the cigarette quickly fills his nose. He never understood why humans would defile themselves with such substances. He pushes himself up on his forearms with great difficulty, the protective circle weakening him. Remaining silent was so tempting, but he could not risk harm coming to his sister through his own inaction.

"Why do you believe I am her keeper?"

[the-nerd-up-north]

There was something old, earthy mixed into it as well, she’d watch him slowly crawl up from his spot on the ground, keeping to the balls of her feet she’d sat up, a single arm on her knees. She’d look, contemplative as he spoke. Looking back at him, she furrowed her brow.

“Because nobody’s Dying.” She says, very matter of factly. She seemed almost, shaken, Uneasy, but kept it under a mask of stone. She’d adjust her footing as she pulled from the ember that would slowly crawl up the paper. “And when I say that, I’m not being hyperbolic. She, gave me this ritual to summon her willingly, but, something struggled, then you came out.” She said very matter-of-factly, the floorboards almost seem to be pulsing with energy, slowly scattering off, remnants of what energy had been used for the ritual. It almost seemed to backlight this woman, just ever so faintly-- a gentle light, that grew dim as time would go on. The slight Incomprehensible buzz of the Runes, and markers replacing it.

Silently she would wait, expectantly, before exhaling away. The gears turned in her mind. She looked at this impossibly pale man in front of her. For now, there was an uncertain respect for whatever sat in front of her.

@drcamofthecndless

technically we’re ALL, always LARPing, because the Self is only a construct,

[2rsquared]

I want a new character

[theprettyboysclub]

Then make one.

[just-yet]

[the-nerd-up-north]

The sandman, The Mad Sage, And The Knight

"Here in Darkness, here in Darkness, here in Darkness." We begin our tale, just as the last, with a spell. Chalk , indicating the direction of the leylines of the earth, as well as the cardinal directions. This needed to be Exact, quickly, this figure would begin to stand as she chanted, focusing on the point which the leylines ran paralell to the cardinal points. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Penny from the Grave." She sets at the Eastern point. The air around her within this open yet cluttered space would almost breath dryly as she began to walk around the circle. candles lighting a few spots, leaving the shiloette of a short haired woman as well as the Shiloette of masks, old musky papers, and cluttered bookshelves. "Here in Darkness, I give you The blood Of an immortal." she pulls an old blade out, silently driving it into her palm as a dark scarlet would drip onto the Eastern point. "And I give you the blade from under the hills, that so drew it." She begins to feel the energy begin to pulse, almost as if a well of gravity was forming from the center-- it's actually working.

Keep going, we must finish this. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Feather, Pulled from the Angel Azrael." She would set the feather down to the north, Quickly watching as the chalklines ignite. She felt the pull-- but it felt almost like a struggle. Something was holding her back. This strong framed woman would carefully remove her jacket, revealing the imprint of scars on her shoulder blades and running further down her back under the offwhite singlet. They would begin to ignite as she raised her hands up. "Here in Darkness I summon you, the one I call my Friend." Running down her spine these scarred runes would begin to pulse with the same pattern as the chalk lines below. "Here in Darkness I summon Death to my door." It was almost like a fish fighting a pole, she could feel something pull from behind this well but it was fighting-- certainly it was whoever was keeping her down, she knew the concequences that would come in her absince, she must have! She would focus, her mind centering on this point as she stared with intensity, slowly forced into a yell as she feels something take hold and finally surface. The candles within this room would all die in a single gust of wind. The first thing dream would hear as he was drawn into the the waking world would be a hopeful, but uncertain voice. American, certainly-- but youthful. "My Friend, Is that you?" @drcamofthecndless

[drcamofthecndless]

Dream was tending to his realm, as he often did lately. He could not allow himself to relax until it was returned to his former glory and extra defenses were added. He may have been victorious in his battle with Lucifer, but he knew the war between them had just begun.

He was working on shoring up the realm's defenses when he felt a strange tug deep inside his essence. The feeling sent cold fear down his spine. He had felt this before. Once. It was not a sensation he wanted to experience ever again.

The sand at his feet began to move of its own accord, attempting to slowly envelop him in it. He fought against it, and against the helplessness he'd never wanted to feel again. The only possible conclusion was this was a follower of Burgess, attempting to summon him to continue what Burgess had failed to do.

Whatever magic that summoned him was more powerful than he had the strength to resist. He collapsed, feeling cold stone against his cheek instead of the warm sands of his realm. He could feel the confines of the summoning circle weighing down his power, weakening him to the point he could hardly move.

His eyes opened at the voice, blurred images slowly coming into focus. For a moment, he saw Roderick Burgess once more, sneering over him. The man's expression ignited a painful mixture of fear and hatred. When he blinked, the form became a woman. But he still could not find relief in that. He did not reply, the summoning circle rendering even such simple actions nearly impossible. Even if he could speak, he would not allow this magician such an opportunity.

[the-nerd-up-north]

It was very much a feeling similar to thick fog, the air was dense, gravitational almost as this darkness enveloped the room. There was a hitch in her breath as she was responded to by simple silence. His hands would feel a cold floor— but not stone— Wood. It was old, but well kept. Enough to allow for the markings to still be effective. There would be a single light, one that would appear with the flick of a thumb, almost as if a non-existent lighter sparked to life. Her hand would quietly sweep out from under a pair of Warm Dusk-Brown eyes. Sending the flame across the room, silently dancing from one candle, to another, slowly revealing this cloaked form to her. Before Dream stood a Woman, Old enough to be an adult but young enough to have kept — something, behind those eyes of hers. She looked, tired but not weak. Wearing a Wifebeater, worn Blue Jeans, and a simple pair of brown combat boots; Which whern’t beaten up as much as they have seen an ungodly amount of Wear over the years.

She stare, confused. “You’re not...” she would frown, sighing, slowly walking up as she knelt down to meet him at eye level. “... she told me this would work— which means...” she would keep a neutral stare, brows furrowed in thought. “... are you the bastard who’s keeping her locked up?”

“you’re certainly not human, if you were— well... this wouldn’t work on you now would it?” She asks, this tired laugh would reverberate through her chest, quietly pulling a cigarette out from a metal tin. Tilting her head. “Not a chatty one are you? — And don’t give me that fucking glare, you did this to yourself.” The accent said american— Midwest; “ I know you can talk even with this seal active, so, I’m gonna ask this nicely. Where are you keeping her?” She Would light it silently, you’d watch the snap as sparks Between the fingers would cause an ignition. She’d burn the tip as she ignited it, having enough decency to keep the smoke away but close enough to allow for a discomfort to settle in. Her jaw clenching as the small light at the end of the cigarette would reflect these small flakes of green in her eyes.

@drcamofthecndless

[the-nerd-up-north]

The sandman, The Mad Sage, And The Knight

"Here in Darkness, here in Darkness, here in Darkness." We begin our tale, just as the last, with a spell. Chalk , indicating the direction of the leylines of the earth, as well as the cardinal directions. This needed to be Exact, quickly, this figure would begin to stand as she chanted, focusing on the point which the leylines ran paralell to the cardinal points. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Penny from the Grave." She sets at the Eastern point. The air around her within this open yet cluttered space would almost breath dryly as she began to walk around the circle. candles lighting a few spots, leaving the shiloette of a short haired woman as well as the Shiloette of masks, old musky papers, and cluttered bookshelves. "Here in Darkness, I give you The blood Of an immortal." she pulls an old blade out, silently driving it into her palm as a dark scarlet would drip onto the Eastern point. "And I give you the blade from under the hills, that so drew it." She begins to feel the energy begin to pulse, almost as if a well of gravity was forming from the center-- it's actually working.

Keep going, we must finish this. "Here in Darkness, I give you a Feather, Pulled from the Angel Azrael." She would set the feather down to the north, Quickly watching as the chalklines ignite. She felt the pull-- but it felt almost like a struggle. Something was holding her back. This strong framed woman would carefully remove her jacket, revealing the imprint of scars on her shoulder blades and running further down her back under the offwhite singlet. They would begin to ignite as she raised her hands up. "Here in Darkness I summon you, the one I call my Friend." Running down her spine these scarred runes would begin to pulse with the same pattern as the chalk lines below. "Here in Darkness I summon Death to my door." It was almost like a fish fighting a pole, she could feel something pull from behind this well but it was fighting-- certainly it was whoever was keeping her down, she knew the concequences that would come in her absince, she must have! She would focus, her mind centering on this point as she stared with intensity, slowly forced into a yell as she feels something take hold and finally surface. The candles within this room would all die in a single gust of wind. The first thing dream would hear as he was drawn into the the waking world would be a hopeful, but uncertain voice. American, certainly-- but youthful. "My Friend, Is that you?" @drcamofthecndless

[dashboarddiaries]

so...what do you think? which post has Mr. Gaiman NOT reblogged? (yet)