Gonna Marry the Night is a modern fantasy RP. Based in a fantasy world, where two tribes the Sun Clan and Moon Clan live divided and in constant war against each other. Where is your allegiance? Or perhaps you might be one of the exiled or survivors of various shipwrecks. Come to these lands to see what it offers.
WELCOME TO GONNA MARRY THE NIGHT!
< must read this, folks >
updates
< Reopening of Gonna Marry the Night > Welcome! We are officially reopened. Take a look at all the important areas before deciding to join. Such as the rules, plot and face claims board. If you have questions, don't hesitate to ask.
< Events > We don't have have any events at the moment, so we'll keep you posted.
The result he was presented with was both expected and unforeseen, and Emery watched with tired eyes as the hunter vehemently wrestled his gaze away and took to staring at the ground. The slim chest fighting the anxiety that bitterly grabbed a hold of whatever senses he was left with.
Was that the effect he had over him, then?
It almost wounded him, in a way, but the witch had resigned to that sensation a long time ago. There was only two people in the whole world who knew of the dark magic flooding through his veins, and they both wore an expression of utter incredulity. First his mother, and now this stranger. A child of the Sun, to be exact. Emery expected no less of a reaction; the feeling, however, never quite numbed, and he was left with the dull void of frustration stabbing up into the fragile organ between his ribs.
No one would trust a harbinger of death.
As the second's ticked by, a closing curtain to the phantasmal trust seeping like dust through his fingers, Emery's hands lost their grip on the healer's shoulders and fell. Halting at his sides, a silent motion bearing no sound but the gentle ruffle of robe sleeves regaining their place over his thin wrists. Muteness tied his tongue, arresting him in place as his silver eyes were met with a green gaze of doubt. A rigid disbelief that ensnared him in place. It seemed the handsome man drew up his bitter conclusions, imparting only a sordid emotion of doleful sadness.
'Don't look at me like that, please. I didn't ask for this.' Unspoken words, for the mortician's mouth refused to shift.
The suffocating silence descended, crushing Emery's throat in its unforgiving grasp. Turning the thoughts in his brain to mush, corrosive and slow to fire through the twisted synapses. He was unable to break the incorporeal force built between them, and surrendered himself to the violent whirlwind of nightmares rattling emptily against his skull. What was running through the other's mind? Nothing good, he had to assume. Disillusion; betrayal. It could have been any of those, anything that would paint him up as a demon of shadows. A soul-stealer of the innocent and naive.
He waited for something - a sound of acknowledgement - with stilted breath, and when the words trickled out slow and unassuming, his mind snapped to attention; air departing from his lungs like the collapse of his will. The response directed him towards a different path - one from repudiation - and the lids of his eyes slid into a downtrodden show of atonement.
"Inexperience. Naivete. Pretty faces hide ugly secrets, and mine, my dear Sun, is the ugliest of them all. Even the Moon herself couldn't stand the infection she blessed and cursed into this world." Painfully quiet, his voice snaked out a gentility that was simply ready to break; fall apart at the edges and corrupt into an avalanche of pent-up anger. But it remained level-headed, even when the bitterest of smiles occupied pale pink lips. "You're merely in denial. Unready to accept that there are forces in this realm that can undo the work you live for... and I'm simply one of them."
Emery's pathway of thoughts were in shambles, and even he was unsure how to explain the harsh truth to a boy who has never witnessed this destruction before.
"I wish it were true. I may be breathing, living in this world, but tell that to the victim's that have come across me. I'm nothing more than death's servant, your opposite in life." The Antichrist to the Sun child in almost every way. "Bent on executing everything I handle." The bloodied palms of his narrow hands rose into the air, showing off dry marks of conflict; the spilled red of life loss.
"But I don't have to tell you that. You already know what I am, don't you? I saw it in your eyes, the way you looked at me; something repulsive, inhuman. I want you to say it." He demanded calmly, silver eyes two spotlights of intent; solely focusing on meeting the other's gaze. It was to prove a point, to receive an admission that would settle the aggravated ends of his nerves. "I want to hear it from your mouth, your binding words."
His breath crumpled in his lungs. "It's not like the truth can hurt any less!" And exploded out in the form of a laugh; high-strung and airy, the pitiful cackling of a young man resigned to fate. It was beyond anything similar to the one he had previously produced, and it ached in the back of his throat. Throbbing in the pit of his chest. Sometimes he wished it could be different, that he hadn't been born with sickly white hair and skin, but the dream was always quick to perish prematurely.
The bout of hysterics only lasted a second, a wavering sound that dropped off; falling like the dying sun. It left behind a residue of false mirth, sharp and glittering within the eyes of quicksilver.
His jaw set into a grim line; a broken plea. "Say it..."
The weight on his shoulders were released, a breath of space that his lungs appreciated. He had not wished to force the other away, despite how grateful the change felt, but some part of his reaction had prompted the withdrawal. The man had a downcast expression, a sight that made the sunny boy’s own heart ache in guilt. He thought it unfair, that someone could throw such a burden thought onto him and show such a face.
And the teetering gentleness of the response, the slightest upturn of the thin lip’s ends, Quinn only felt cornered again and tore away his gaze once more, nerves shifty.
“I’m not in denial…”
It was muttered under his breath, not for others to hear but for himself, as if speaking with himself would somehow persuade his own mind otherwise. An ironic way to go about solving his own internal dilemmas. He caught a change of tone within the moon person’s voice and desperately clung onto that distraction, tuning into what else needed to be said.
Stained hands were rose to illustrate the point, but a part of the blonde wasn’t accepting the words. Quinn was able to pinpoint this specific suspicion of his, a rejection that was not exactly denial but more of a refutation. Golden eyebrows furrowed at the gesture and the commentary that accompanied afterwards.
With each word and phrase that passed, emerald analysts watched the angel’s disposition unfurl, the ends of tied strings fraying into a mess. He was persistent, his metallic gaze sharp and demanding, but the sun clanner could not follow the reason why. The flurry further escalated with a single cackle, a sudden high moment that disappeared as quickly as it arrived. Quinn was left startled, but his head was surprisingly more put together than before, or at least more put together than his company’s.
He had many things that he wanted to say but couldn’t, or shouldn’t with how the atmosphere was left off. Whatever came out of his mouth next would be taken as his final judgement on the moon’s son.
But he couldn’t let the silence start either with his noiseless contemplation, not wanting to leave a pause that most likely would’ve left the individual suffering. He needed to act immediately but the pressure had crumbled his thought processes again. A hand instinctively reached out, cupped and hesitantly hovering over the pale cheek. It was an intimate gesticulation, but it was the only way he knew to forcefully comfort those in distress. Should the face try to shy away from the palm, Quinn would persist in directing that silvery gaze towards his own.
His words had no structure, and the pink tongue rambled off whatever came into mind, staring from the beginning.
“You didn’t execute me, even though you could’ve. That’s mercy, compassion, and a heart, isn’t it?
“Pull yourself together, and stop telling yourself these things. There’s more to yourself than just your own opinions. Those lies weren’t from my lips, and I won’t let them come from my lips. I know what you are, and you’re a human like everyone else, like me.
There was no sound reason Emery could shift through that would explain the torrent of emotions shattering against his rib cage, but it was enough to undo his stability. Shake out from under him the foundations of professional detachment. As his personality went, it was uncharacteristic of him to spill his soul - tear open the confines of his chest to expose the withered pieces of a damaged heart. And he blamed the Sun child, so full of vibrant life and peace, for his current delirium.
Muted, however, and without verbal cue, it was left to die away in the recesses of his mind. A breath faltering in the back of his throat, smothered by the attention focusing onto the sudden hand. It breached the distance, the silence, a hallmark of meaning, and Emery's eyes snagged on the pale appendage with a predatory caution. Tracing the slender fingers that loomed closer to his face.
How long were they going to play this game of intimacy? The constant back and forth of rapport, attempting to calm and persuade with gesture? It had started off as a simple jest, something to keep the Sun clansman from departing without proper retribution, but all had been forgotten. His tongue bested him, leaving him tight roping over a precipice of indescribable anxiety. Within the clutches of his rival, showing dismal weakness. If he had kept his mouth shut, sealed tight between unrelenting lips, the self-destructing secret would not be out, and he would not be in this situation.
Uncertain, his silver orbs flickering to meet the hunter's gentle ones; lingering on the pretty viridian irises that burned within him a look of intensity. Emery could barely feel the warmth radiating off the palm of his hand, sinking in to the cold skin of his cheek. Just like the sun. A rather comforting feeling he could latch onto in an attempt to still the bothersome thoughts that paraded through his skull.
It was an anchor to reality
Silence momentarily robbed him of his voice, enhancing his suggestion to sound and the slipshod of sentences dripping from the other boy's mouth. No organized pattern of thought, the intentions of the words were not lost to his auricles, and had a role in the furrow of his pale brow; the expression of bemusement that overcame his once smooth features and reflected off a quiet defeat. Withdrawn, and tired.
Emery's throat tightened, constricted, but not enough to dissuade him from breathing out a shaky reply of his own.
"Your heart... it's too protected to completely understand this necromancer's woe, and yet," a ghost of a smile occupied his trembling lips, "you attempt to convince me to adopt a different style of thought. Though, in doing so, a mind cannot be changed in a day." One of the hands Emery had been holding at his side drifted lazily upwards, edging towards the front of the hunter's shirt. But he stopped, halting before the long fingers made contact with the hard, flat plane of his chest. Hovering just where he knew the heart lay beating behind its owner's breast. "Human or not, I am death, you are life. Night and day. Two sides in a never ending cycle we are... Mortals, fragile beings steeped in opposing frames of reality."
Moonstone eyes slowly flickered open, immaculate eyebrows perched above relaxing to display a sense of loss. "What have you done to me? I can't seem to get my thoughts in order. Surely it can't be anything of your doing..." The calm voice trailed off, pausing to introduce a brief curtain of silence. It was strange, how disjointed his trail of rationale was becoming; the sudden fluctuations between emotion. It wasn't solely based around the other's rambled sentences, no. He had little trouble answering them from the start, but it was something else. A pressure - a distraction - located in the forefront of his mind.
A pinpoint of pain, swelling against his brain-
"Ah-" It was over as soon as it had started, ebbing out with the warm breath shuddering from deep within his lungs. But the subside that washed over him felt too tangible, too real; a sensation dripping against his lips. Internal panic tore up the frame of his spine, and though it spurred him to assess the problem, the free hand he lifted moved sluggish. A task as he dabbed an index and middle finger against the tip of his nose, he drew it level with his piercing gaze to find an opaque smudge staining the fragile pads a dark red.
Blood.
A frantic glint of fear wormed its way into his silver-eyed gaze.
"... forgive me, it appears recent events have taken much of a toll." Emery's voice dropped in tone, low and barren. He held his hand in vain to his bleeding nose. "I've stretched my soul too thin."
“I’m not asking for you to change within a day, but to consider the option of changing. Would you be willing?”
He watched his opponent reply with stubborn precision, curious about the fingers that roamed over to his heart but kept their distance. The way that the man had talked, it was apparent that the thoughts were quite deeply ingrained into their mind, and a reformation would require patience and time. A heavy sigh breathed out, both audible and visible on the golden boy’s body.
“You’re not going to stop, are you?”
It felt like he was dealing with a crystal sculpture, a fragile work of art that was hardened on the surface only to shatter if met with certain forces. His positional also felt fragile, becoming the inquirer of a stranger with a history and past much darker than his own. Quinn couldn’t deny it, that the things that he’s seen were drastically different and more sheltered than what others may have experienced, but his inexperience wasn't going to stop him from trying anything.
He still wanted to help out if possible. To slowly dig out an individual’s mysteries and embrace the warming knowledge of it. Physical wounds were basic exercises for his blessings, but to aid with someone’s emotions was a different realm in itself and more rewards in both the process and the results.
Acknowledging the other's confusion, Quinn withdrew his hand, raising his palm up in a small surrender to show that he had no sneaky moves in play.
“I haven’t done anything to you yet, and I often steer away doing so unless my patient wishes so.”
He heavily respected the concept that minds were not to be played with, although there was still a fraction of his ability that he had little control over. Bitter personalities that contacted him occasionally left on a more chipper note. A passive that he wished he didn't have and a small curse for himself, but he judged that it was a mere speck in comparison to the turmoil that the moon's offspring was facing.
Then came a sudden change in the pale expression, a hint of pain and clear distraction. It wasn't long until Quinn caught sight of what the individual was focused on. Droplets of red peeking out from under the nose, it was a bright hue that stood out against the porcelain skin. The healer instinctively reached out to source out the cause and patch up any problems, but the dirtied palms paused in mid air.
The frantic emotion within the metallic eyes had a different taste to them, and the owner had also shifted accordingly, covering up the dilemma with thin fingers. With the words that obscurely explained the situation, the golden expression furrowed up with concern.
“What are you talking about? Is this a symptom of something? You know of my powers, tell me.”
The hand that reached for Emery possessed a determination that was easily fractured, and the Moon child sensed it was to do with the perturbation welling up in bright viridian eyes; the string of words, questions and offers, spilling out in a wave he could latch onto. Effectively distracting himself from the beads of crimson snaking out from between his fingers. His throat felt constricted within his moment of contemplation. Spilling secrets - the truth about his twisted, double-edged magic - would potentially do more harm then good, but details could be omitted. Warped. Emery may have been raised to be honest, but honesty was the last thing lingering on his tongue.
"... necromancy, dear Sun, runs like a two-way path through my blood. It imbues me with powers of death, but comes with a price I realized to be threatening." The lilt of his voice stressed the word, mingling in his mouth like the taste of sharp copper. It only came out muffled behind his hand. "What you see is merely a delayed side-effect; a warning sign that has simply been one of far too many. But do I heed it's advice?" Emery paused carefully, but gave no room for further thought. "No."
The palm hovering against the hunter's chest slid away, and fell limp to its owner's side.
"Ignoring my body's pleas, I've pushed on far past the physical limits; perhaps to some point I should never have crossed. Too late, however, to stop what I enjoy, and as macabre as dealing with the dead sounds, I've always had an interest.
"This," his free arm, robed in its silvery sleeve, flourished outwards to gesture again at the deceased capybara, "was merely a milestone in progress. A stepping stone that commits me some miserable number closer to my own self-induced quietus. And realizing that I'm one more step closer... that is what both invigorates and scares me." The stretched appendage faltered, and like a broken angel's wing, it collapsed; weighed down by the crushing force of gravity. The closer Emery stared into the hunter's beautiful green eyes, the more he could see his own reflection. Tainted and shattered.
His jaw struggled to move and shape the air from his throat into tangible words. "The symptoms are not frequent, but when they do happen, the worst is the ones that bleed. They tell me I've channeled too much of my life into my recent slew of 'projects' and need to cease and desist. Quite the haunting feeling." Emery sighed quietly, a shuddering breath that tore the air from his lungs; the wrist of his red hand descending to completely expose the scene of his bleeding snout. He had already bled once that day, why not let it run a little more? "And yet, to answer your previous questions, to consider the option of changing is like considering how much of my soul is torn away from me. Disconnected and then injected into a host to relive once more regardless of the consequences that may follow..."
A gentle hand, the one that had been staunching the flow of blood, drew up to reach for the other man's face, but stopped on the threshold of his cheek. A mimicry of their previous position. Silver eyes bore into viridian orbs. "It's near impossible." The three words whispered out from bloodied lips, clean and soft, and his palm gently pressed down. Severing the distance and cradling the skin, it smeared the warm opaqueness like a gory stamp across smooth canvas. A blotchy stain to combat against the sunlight gold of the hunter's well-kept hair.
Emery's face bore no expression, however, no triumph over finally breaching the phantasmal wall between them.
"Ingrained for so long, alteration is no simple feat. I may be willing, but time was not a kind mistress to me, and so she remains carefully watching over the downfall of my mind. But you?" His thumb further smudged the cooling stain across his cheek, eking out the miserable shade. Red was a rather fitting color for the hunter. "If you're persistent, perhaps I won't end up in an early grave from self-induced depressions..."
Words as clear as cave water and as abundant as an ocean, Quinn was not expecting this kind of response but accepted it gratefully. The explanation wasn't exactly your good news, but it was information that he didn't have before, and he looked at everything with a positive light.
Or at least as much as he could.
The man was killing himself, almost purposefully and completely aware of it too.
It was an outrageous decision that the blonde once again wanted to deny but forced himself to take it in. It would be hypocritical of him to run from the truth after seeking the truth.
But oh, how much the truth had hurt him. He knew the expanse of his healing essence, but there was little he could do about one's soul. The moment the deceased were gone, there was no bringing them back. This angel of the moon, they were throwing out bits and pieces of their soul away, tossing valuable slivers of green into the wind and watching it billow away.
The bloodied hand had released itself from damming up the trickle of red. Somber jungle eyes glanced up at the streak of blood, still spilling with motion, before lifting a single index and lightly pressing on the contoured nose bridge. That was the extent of the action, a single gesture to close the broken vein with the hand dropping back down afterwards.
His heart was wrought to see such a spirit like this, not exactly dejected about life, but almost obsessive over the concept of the end of it. He wanted to fix it, he was going to fix it. As to how, he didn't have a clue.
Quinn didn't shy away from the stained hand, focusing himself on the sharp silvery gaze with the rounder hue of his own. A shiver trembled down his spine, however, when liquid made a chilling contact with his face. The other man’s blood, but he couldn't bring himself to shove it away either. Instead, a hand came to cover up the foreign one, gently resting on top of the fingers that cradled his face.
“ 'Near impossible’, but not completely impossible.
“I can be persistent, a lot of people know me for being persistent. I don't know how much you have given away to your dark arts, and I can't bless back what only your goddess has power over, but I will keep you from a premature death. After today, meet with me again, and many times more in the future. I'll promise to make it fun.”
A faint smile spread across his cheeks, emeralds inquiring the moon angel’s response with glints of sunlight.
The blood flow ceased, a haunting stillness mirroring the posture of Emery's spine. Only the light of his eyes tracked the situation and shifted to meet the viridian stain staring back. Muted and open. What ticked through that man's mind, now that he had confessed? Bled out what little soul he had left to a complete stranger? If only he could pry open the skull and push back the blond locks of hair, maybe Emery could garner a peak into the synapses beneath.
What was so different about this one?
But demented thoughts, a cacophony of estrangement and detachments, could not draw his attention away from the warmth seeping into his hand. The friendly heat that warmed the stiff cold of his fingers, and blanketed them in a comforting shroud of gentility. Words, ushered from smiling lips, echoed eerily within the catacombs of his auricles; startling him into uncertain conversation.
"Quite a big task you are heaving onto your shoulders. Are you sure you can handle a person like me?" Emery whispered into the air between them, tenor of his voice wavering; sober. "What you are insisting, what I am implying, could might as well lose us the respect of our clans if we do not heed caution. Surely fraternizing with the enemy will not digest peacefully with elders and war hawk enthusiasts."
The consequences of pursuing friendship with a blond god of the Sun could bring nothing but punishment if set up incorrectly, but the mortician was not one for operating on a straight set of rules. His twisted, turned, broke the lines of death and life. A sin against nature, they could not hang him for anything worse as the greatest crime had already been committed - the secret tampering with the souls of life lost. From birth, Emery had a reckless streak hidden behind his immaculate face, and that saw more light than did his inbuilt worry. Someone was standing there openly poised to accept his frequently unwanted company; going as far as to utter allegiance to halting his self-destructive tendencies.
Emery was not going to let them go. They weren't going to slip out of his blood stained grasp.
"No, I have no care in what they will think. You're the first soul to show me such kindness... A genuine investment." His white mane of hair shook to the side, a feathery show of clearing doubts that lingered in his brain like cobwebs. "I'll accept your proposition, meet with you again." The coral pink line of his bloodied lips curled up into a gentle smile; a ghost of an expression set to parallel the man's faint grin. Emery's hand, warm against the Sun lord's skin, slowly snaked out from under the other appendage; taking most of the slick red with him. "I swear to the goddess of the Moon.
"But before we trail off on our separate ways, at least tell me your name." It was whispered sweetly - quiet, but audible; directed as one last thoughtful inquiry.
“I’m sure anyone can handle anything so long as they’re trying their best. You don’t think that I’ll be able to handle you?”
It was a question that he asked, but Quinn realized that it was of no help to him. Recent evidence had already shown that he was easily flustered by the man, by the personality and by the appearance. A breath taking beauty accompanied with a chilling hobby, the boy still felt his breath catch whenever those bold irises of moonlight gazed at him. would he really be able to handle this child of the night?
“I’m sure that there are many ways in keeping our clans from finding out, everyone has their own secrets. A few already know of my random excursions and pay no mind to it~ There’s usually only exiles out here in the wilderness, anyways.”
His mother might end up quite bothersome if he left the territory lines too often, one of the clan's figure of authority and with a reasonable amount of power. A power that can be used either for or against him, but he was no longer the small babe that she wished him to be. Twenty-one years, and the Lady was still trying to manage his daily routine... Any of his commanders from the Sun's forces, however, he'd need to take caution around.
It was a warming to hear that his generosity was getting somewhere, the first crack of light behind a cold stone wall. He couldn’t help just raise the corners of his mouth even further, a pleased toothy smile of contentment, jeweled with pearls. Quinn leaned into the lanky hand trapped between his face and palm, pressing in his warmth for a moment before letting the fingers return to their owner.
It would be the start of something new for him, a new chapter of his life with this strange stranger. A personality like nothing he’s met before, and from the opposing clan to. There were many uncertainties and situations that also questioned his conscience, but those problems he would deal with when the time came.
“Quinn! Yours?
"And if you’re up for it, you’re not too busy tomorrow, are you?”
Emery's pallid lips twitched, threatening to slide up into an amused smirk. "No, I think you'll be enough. But to what extent?" The silver of his eyes flickered to match the set grin on his mouth, calm yet calculated. "We'll have to see, my dear Sun." It had not gone unnoticed to the witch that he had been frequently stared at during the entire length of their shared conversation, and it was easy to draw implication towards the unspoken attraction. Not that it was uncomfortable. As he had grown into the rather alien, noteworthy appearance - more of a curse then a blessing - he sometimes wished the Moon had not bleached his looks. They only brought unnecessary stares to the skin made of porcelain and the hair as white as snow.
But somehow, Emery did not quite mind the Sun lord's viridian spotlights.
"That is an accurate observation... I am unaware of the situation with your clan, but I know mine do not miss me if I am away for long periods of time." He explained lightly, as if he were droning on about the weather and no more. Only a few words in that half-hearted phrase were lies, however. His mother, of course, held in her weary heart concern for her reckless son, but even she never knew of his far-flung whereabouts. Emery never told her anything, and it remained that way.
She would never find out about his new companion as long as blood shuddered through his veins.
The mortician was not too bothered by the thought of his mother, and shoved it to the back of his mind. Deep within the inky blackness where voices of guilt roamed and scratched at his subconscious. They were trapped under lock and key, in a void they could not escape. A disconnection that refused to show upon his face. Demons could shriek in his head, and no one was ever the wiser about the voices he declined to acknowledge.
He, however, only remained enlightened due to their recent manifestations in his dreams. And for the brief moment he was ensnared in his own visions, Emery concluded the healer of the Sun could, one day, perhaps vanquish the raging darkness of his soul.
Ah, but all in due time.
The destructive ideas were whisked away from the forefront of his skull, startling the synapses to quickly register the sound of speech. Cheery and pleasant, it was like a melody to his ears, drawing his eyes out of their blank trance and to the bright owner of the aforementioned voice. Tracing over the handsome jawline, the full-fledged smile. A holy saint sent from the Sun itself. And now he knew this saint's name.
A gentle smirk, slow and fragile, overtook Emery's lips. "Quinn..." He murmured out lightly, tasting how the monosyllabic word rolled off his tongue. Conscripted to memory. "Quinn, ah, what an amiable name. It suits you." The fold of his eyelids closed over, pale white lashes shuttering out any sight of the sunny life-giving lord; descending into languidly rehearsing an answer to the other's next question in his head.
There was no use informing him his given title just that moment.
"No, I'm not busy tomorrow. I'm quite open, actually... but as for the name you so desire?" Emery's small, long-fingered hands drifted up to perch on top of the man's shoulders, pressed against the collarbone with an almost intangible touch. Feathery, and barely noticeable. He leaned in close, a slow, hesitant movement that brought him a hair's width away from the other's mouth. Eyes downcast, fluttering against his own cheeks, he breathed out the continuation of his reply. "I'll tell you tomorrow." Each word barely brushed the bloodstained lips against the Sun child's, but it didn't matter. Emery was only interested in teasing, recreating a previous scene in their earlier chapter, and rapidly drew away. Red palms pushing the shoulders back as he turned gracefully on a heel to prepare for his departure.
Leave the hunter of the daytime dwelling on the recent course of actions.
The sheath of his knife swaying at his hip, Emery halted in place a good few steps away from Quinn and glanced over the shoulder of his robes. The stained fabric of red a sickening contrast to the white skin of his cheek. "Don't forget to claim your prize, hunter. Wouldn't want you to forget what you came for."
And he trudged off into the overgrowth, a white blotch against a darkening background. His mistress just starting to cast her silver-eyed gaze onto the tangle of ground below.
He would certainly see him tomorrow, this... new actor in his twisted theatrical play of life.
Only there was a protagonist, now, ready to tear the angel's breath away.
max: Boy, the site really went downhill... Surprised you two are still here, but fear not, I have returned!
Jun 6, 2018 22:47:16 GMT -5
snowman: Welcome back.
Jun 6, 2018 23:29:23 GMT -5
max: So anyone got hold of the admin? See if they're willing to transfer control to one of us, unless you two love birds wanna be the only ones on this site
Jun 7, 2018 15:10:00 GMT -5
snowman: Tried a while back when I posted to one of her threads, but hadn't heard anything
Jun 7, 2018 17:29:04 GMT -5
max: Did you try messaging her on Discord?
Jun 7, 2018 17:48:34 GMT -5
snowman: I tagged her I believe correctly and nothing.
Jun 7, 2018 23:53:53 GMT -5
max: Hm, I'll see if I can get a hold of her
Jun 8, 2018 0:05:26 GMT -5
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