mercy & death

listen closely for the sound of the bell for it signifies your demise selective roleplay blog for the wraith from dead by daylight | 18+

[wailingbells]

by the way... if anyone wants to catch me on my killer (with survivor verse) oc it's @killercollection... I'm kind of shy writing wraith for now but I'm pretty motivated on my oc (kind of hoping for some survivor verse interactions with killers rn maybe??? idk!)

[wailingbells]

syoseutopeo·:

      He knows the territory is of another, an annoyance seeping through his veins–if this thing wanted him to play it’s game and enjoy his time, why did it not give him his own territory? A star such as himself deserves his own place, a territory to mark with the blood of his victims and to decorate with how he pleases. Perhaps it is something gained; sacrifice enough of those poor souls and maybe he will be granted another gift.         This must be the territory of this one, yellow eyes narrowing as a huff slips out–more of a pout that he desired to let escape but too late to undo it now. Idly a single knife is kept out, his focus shifting to it rather than staring at the Killer. Such beasts he is amongst–they do say the outside can reflect the inside, a hidden relief he still holds his dazzling looks–twisted images.        And when words are not spoken, the singer’s lips twitch, “Oh, I guess it’s that,” for a moment, the Trickster shifts his weight from one leg to the other, a bloody hand swiping through light purple hair, pulling back strands from his face. Keep up appearances, a phrase drilled deep into his skull. Do not show the inner darkness, even if these others are just as dark as he is.      When the hand lowers, the annoyance lingers in the florescent eyes, yet he bears a sly smile, “I get it, another star struck admirer~” As if. Nobody in this blasted place seemed to know anything about good tastes in music or had even heard of his name! Not the likely result, but there is some other reaction.       A bell? Rustic compared to the synthesized beats molded from an electric guitar or a keyboard, but still the only resemblance to music he has gotten among the grunts and growls that greet him from the other Killers, “Well… at least you have some taste.”

He's quickly finding the man just a bit too talkative, just a bit too flashy. Bright clothing, bright weapons, he's well aware of the weapon the other has kept drawn- It's far too eye catching, far too annoying to miss. 

There are some who are much more inclined towards violence than he is, so he supposes he cannot fault him for wanting to keep something on hand (though he briefly wonders if it's even for self defense). Either way, he'll have to stay cautious as well, Azarov's Skull held loosely in his other hand in case of any sudden movements. 

Thankfully, it seems the other man is satisfied by his response, and he is in no immediate danger of being stabbed. The Wraith wonders if he was a musician before he was this- How passionate to continue his art, even in a situation like this. But perhaps he's mistaken, as he's learned that some willingly submit themselves to the Entity, corrupted even before this life. DEMONS. 

He shrugs, not entirely sure if it's taste or if it's just a simple appreciation for anything that isn't the roaring of the generators. Comparably, the music much more bearable, but still strange. He much prefers the dull ringing of his bell, much more comfortable and familiar. 

The Wraith gestures at the man for a moment before pointing away towards the walls that prevent killer and survivors alike from straying from the realm. Tilting his head to the side, it's more of a question than a demand, wondering if the other will leave soon. Interesting hobbies or not, he's still not much of a fan of strangers lingering in his space. 

[wailingbells]

syoseutopeo​:

     He hums to himself, crafting a tune from the cries of the last one sacrificed–such interesting sounds that one made, the nerves mixing with the pain to add a few more whines than his other victims. Even with the time long passed having the blood drip from the hook, The Trickster remains in the area. Best to be inspired where the events took place rather than more aimless wandering until that echo beckons him for more slaughter. Such raw power as well with the lifeless metal of cars and the disgusting scent of oil and grime, a beautiful undertone for his melodies.       A sigh slips from colored lips, his attention returning to the surroundings–in time to pick up the presence of another. Swiftly the neon blades appear, turning in anticipation for another kill.

     Though, this is not one of those running around for their lives. Another Killer? A sneer slips to his expression, fingers twitching that hold the throwing knives, “Well, that’s disappointing.” Something in those whispers warns against attacking despite how much he desires to. What sort of cries would these other murderers make?      “It’s rude to stare, even if you are in the presence of a dazzling star, but I’ll make an exception this time.” 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ Starter – @wailingbells​ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Sounds bother him. He longs for peace and quiet, and yet the thing that brought him here, the Entity, it toys with him. It tugs him along, forces him into these GAMES where his space is invaded by these outsiders. 

Sometimes, he’s not even allowed the decency of dealing with them himself. Although his realm, his freedom at times is limited. Rundown generators chugging to life, light seeping through the boarded up holes that were once windows. Survivors, shouting and screaming as someone else hangs them (maybe if they stayed quiet, stayed put, they wouldn’t be in that situation).

He’s not permitted to wander free until it’s over. Until it’s quiet, until all that’s left is the soft whispering of the wind (or perhaps that is the Entity itself). He steps out of the lodge, feeling the soil underneath his feet, to enjoy the bliss of silence- Only to be greeted by an unfamiliar sound.

It’s not entirely uncomfortable to listen to, not loud, not ear piercing, the enticing melody enough to make him curious, enough to make him desire to seek out whomever is creating the sound. Following it brings him to an unfamiliar face, clearly not a survivor, and he watches. Listens. Approaches the man brazenly until he’s noticed, only blinking and stopping at the glow of the knives (bright lights, not unlike those on the rundown sign. Vaguely familiar, but too close. He doesn’t like it).

“...” Slowly, he doesn’t want to give the other the wrong impression. He’s silent except for his ragged breathing, eyes focused on the other. He’s not here for a fight. For a long moment he continues to stare despite the other’s words, before lifting his bell and giving it a small shake- An attempt to communicate, he likes the music.

[wailingbells]

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[wailingbells]

ⁿᵒ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉⁿᵉˢˢ ⁿᵒ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵐᵉʳᶜʸ ᵛᵉⁿᵍᵉᵃⁿᶜᵉ ʳᵉᵛᵉⁿᵍᵉ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᴰᴵˢᴬᴾᴾᴱᴬᴿ ᵃⁿᵍᵉˡ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ˢʷᵒᵒᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ⁱⁿᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ

The Wraith from Behaviour Interactive's Dead by Daylight. Written by Yized. INFO