so. nooooot getting internet as soon as I’d hoped. consider this account and corvo’s on hiatus until at least June 19. sorry about any frozen threads. c u l8r

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@thedishonored
so. nooooot getting internet as soon as I’d hoped. consider this account and corvo’s on hiatus until at least June 19. sorry about any frozen threads. c u l8r
*WHALES SINGING BAD PORNO MUSIC IN THE DISTANCE*
bow chicka wow wow
(( Sorry about my speed; I'm fairly slow this week. I'm getting ready to go back to college on Tuesday, and that also means moving back to another island this weekend. Also, my boyfriend is in town and we've been spending a lot of time together. There are a couple other reasons, too, pretty personal stuff, but anyway, I appreciate your patience and I hope to be back on track in a few days. ))
A snarl of exertion claws through him as their blades clash in a shower of sparks and the hideous screech of steel; the sound is guttural and inhuman, as much a call of war as it is a cry of grief. Every blow that rattles thickly through his bones feels magnified somehow, impossibly so, and he can’t help the grim sneer of a smile that twists its way across his face. Oh, he could carve himself to shreds forever with regret, but it would never beat the thrill of this, the saccharine song of adrenaline.
Things would have been so much simpler if Corvo had slit his throat the first time they crossed blades. Daud had no dignity left to spare - playing some poor urchin begging for his life in a broken moment so long ago - and in the end, he found he no longer cared.
No one would keep him from death. Not this time.
The assassin’s elegance seems almost misplaced for a man of his stature and status, stepping backward to avoid the downfall of Corvo’s stroke with a nimble sway of hips. The hiss of the void is a hideous, awful thing, and Daud is quick to evade the bodyguard’s blast of wind with a void tear of his own. It’s too easy, it’s child’s play, and the knife has no desire to play games - he’s played too many for it to appeal anymore.
"Is this everything you’ve got?" Daud says with some measure of disgust, springing up from his crouch on the top tier of his office with a wry click of knees. The void falls away from him like a bouquet of black daggers. "Gifts from the void, from your friend -” he tongues his teeth distastefully, spits with a grimace and a dark, challenging cock of his head, “- spare me the tricks of a trained wolfhound. Give me something with feeling.”
Daud disappears and Corvo chases him with a growl, watching in disgust and frustration as his blast of air ripples through now empty space. He should have known that it would never be this easy. Foolish to think that Daud might be surprised by the very powers he has used himself for years on end, those that Attano exhibited to great extent and exquisite detail the last time they met.
The assassin's voice tells Corvo right where he is, however, and he transverses to the loft without a sound. There is no smug quip or threat to follow ("I know your footsteps, Corvo."), just a slithering cloud of black as the Void opens up and spits him back out. Bits of its darkness crawl around him like roaches skittering away from the light, and very briefly, he feels at home.
Daud's taunt, however, manages to draw the terror's ire. He could almost roll his eyes behind the bluish glass lenses of his mask. It's the same pathetic bile that the so-called Knife of Dunwall vomited up the first time, scolding his adversary as if rounding on a disappointing student. The assassin's condescension is more insulting than anything that he might say about Corvo's abilities. Contrarily, the memory of their last fight's conclusion brings a smile to the bodyguard's face. He adjusts his grip on his sword, rubbing calloused fingers over the metal that slowly grows hot under his palm.
Like a wolfhound, he has been trained, trained for one purpose only - to kill. What a magnificent stroke of luck that his quarry should stand right here, before him. Corvo actually laughs, his shoulders shaking soundlessly.
"Do you know what a wolfhound does to a wolf, bastard?"
He doesn't wait for an answer to his question. Rather, the sentence is punctuated with a sharp downward stroke of his sword, right as the last word leaves his lips. His blade flashes, sweeping down with all the force of Corvo's strength and speed behind it. It's a disgraceful move, a cheap shot, but he isn't above employing these dirty tactics to draw blood and pain from his opponent. There's not much he isn't willing to stoop to, these days.
Dishonored: Corvo and Emily - by Julia Vasileva
Godsmack - “Cryin’ Like a Bitch!!”
Step outta line and you get bitch slapped back.
After the Flood
The Pendleton twins are much more dangerous together. That fact has been made clear to Corvo, by the Loyalists and his own experience both. Even tongueless, mute, maimed by Slackjaw and a hard life in their own mines, Corvo still suspects that it will prove difficult to extract any information from the twins when they can use their strange fraternal bond to bolster each other. So he isolates them. Let them know what is is to be truly alone.
The chambers of the Royal Executioner have gone unused since the position was eliminated, at Lord Attano's own request. Now, the dungeon has been touched up slightly, chains and bodies removed, the shrine to the Outsider gathered up in secret and destroyed. The smell of burnt flesh, human filth, and death still lingers. They are scents very familiar to the Royal Protector. By now, they should be branded into Morgan Pendleton's mind as well.
He sits in his navy blue coat, the rich fabric and gold braid striking a sharp contrast to the utilitarian chair he languishes in, the worn and tortured floor on which his boots rest. His hands are linked at the fingers as he waits for the man across from him to wake. The toxin in the sleep darts he used was potent; it was essential to keep the brothers subdued during the trip from the mines. Morgan should be stirring now, though, at any moment, only to find himself tethered to his seat by the arms and legs.
Corvo hopes that, in his captive's eyes, once they open, he will glimpse the reasoning behind all this treachery. His own face is bare of its mask, clad in nothing but a grim frown and a hundred new creases on his forehead, at his mouth, the corners of his eyes. At least Morgan Pendleton knows what it is to be so worn, so tired, so abused. Somehow, Corvo doubts that his short-lived taste of justice will make this process any easier.
highovxrseer replied to your post:highovxrseer replied to your post:looking to pick...
so fucked jfc whatever BURIES MYSELF IN MORE THREADS TBH it’ll happen by gum it’ll happen
god bless I'll check up on you when you're a bit more settled in or you can shoot me an ask/skype when you're ready wink wonk ok?
highovxrseer replied to your post:looking to pick up some threads on corvo. would...
me tho
HEY MOTHERFUCKER totally I'd love to!!! looks at ur progress post tho lmfao you are fucked and I will never have a thread with you tbh omg
shadowofanempress replied to your post:looking to pick up some threads on corvo. would...
eventually soon one day lmfao when i get my other threads w you in order
fuck our threads are blowing in the breeze like dandelion wishes or some shit but you are on once we tie up those motherfuckers and you're in your own country I guess lmao
looking to pick up some threads on corvo. would prefer low chaos. if that sounds good to you, let me know. if you like this post, I'll assume that you want a thread and not just that you enjoy reading my text and would like to make your appreciation for my syntax known. we'll talk later.
hugs and kisses
Holding Heart
By Berunov
screencaps by Digital Frontiers
Download the PSD here
Corrrvooh
I’m sorry, Dishonored has become my ‘sketch something from this when have no better ideas’ so uhh if you want to see something specific from me (which is or isn’t dishonored) just send me a request
Corvo, you got blood on my drawing again…
High Chaos Corvo seems like the type of guy to get blood all over everything since he doesn’t wear gloves. w/bonus detail shots of his hands for great justice
First Person - Dishonored