though he did not move to look at her properly, he listened keenly for her movements. he tensed as the hunter drew near, heart shuddering in anticipation and longing almost for a fight. but none came. she did not lunge or make any move to fight him, rather to ... help him.
in response to her words sol’rys snorted. “do not —” he paused, fishing for the word. “— patronize me,” he said softly. doing relatively well! if he were doing well, he would not be here, or have been here how many damned times before, bloody and naked and rinsing himself in disgusting, murky water.
and yet, he drew away from her touch. “i do it myself,” he muttered, however gratefully sliding the cloth from her grip and scrubbing at his skin. hells, better than his godsdamned fingernails. he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before.
“and what you call poor luck another calls stupidity or a death wish.” not that she had been wrong. very few of the women he’d recently bedded even so much as asked of that scarring specifically with how many sprawled over his skin, and those who did were content with his lie that it was a cloaker’s bite.
@starlyht | continued from ☾
Given what night it was, Hartley hadn't indulged in any sleep either.
Not that she'd gotten too close, but she'd been near enough to keep an eye on what the wolf did - or to head off any unsuspecting humanoids that might have been headed this way. Luckily that hadn't been necessary, and the wolf had entertained itself with hunting and shredding a boar in the early hours.
And then, given she was not supposed to know, she'd circled back around into camp once the sun started rising and the change started receding. It was not something Hartley thought that Sol'rys would want anyone, let alone her to see. Plus it would afford him some small semblance of privacy to wake up.
Hartley lets a few minutes pass before she heads back towards the water - intentionally stepping on a branch as she approached so that he couldn't be caught unawares in his turmoil of the morning after. This picture she's met with is a sad one, Sol'rys standing soggy and ashamed in the shallow water - clearly having given up the pretense in front of her, if the way he turns away is anything to go by.
Sighing, Hartley fishes a cloth from her things, dropping the pack beside his clothes and wading into the water to join him. Dunking the cloth in the murky water, she makes to start helping him clean the blood from her skin. Her movements are slow, and grip lose so that, should he want, he could stop her with no resistance.
"You've been doing relatively well, all things considered." She says, the despondent slope of his shoulders breaking her heart. "It's just poor luck you've been sleeping with a monster hunter."
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receiver finds sender desperately trying to wash the blood off of themself (reversed, Hartley/Sol)
blood, blood, gallons of the stuff
he couldn't even find it in himself to be surprised. the taste of copper lingered in his mouth. he knew the feel of it, blood only half-dried clinging to and flaking over his jaw and face, spattered over his torso. he groaned at the first rays of sun in his eyes and ran a hand back through his hair, mind immediately racing to take stock of where he was, racking his memory to discern what he had done. he recognized a faint rush of water, the creek that fed towards the inn by less than a kilometer. he'd thought it a better place for the animal to break free than elsewhere, and as predicted it had escaped his attempts at restraint. he could not recall if the blood he tasted and the blood that spattered him was human or beast. like the gossamer strands of a dream he could recall only faint remnants, like the snap of branches beneath all fours or blur of trees or an intoxicating echo of lust for chase.
muttering curses beneath his breath and lowering his eyes beneath the creeping sun, he gingerly started to make his way back. his own relief when it seemed no one was around, when he noted his clothes were undisturbed, ached like a knife twist. with no small twinge of disgust he glanced at the murky water. he could bathe properly when he was finished. even dressed, caked with something (or someone) else's blood he would be sooner driven away or worse. he did not even have the energy to cast a less-bloody illusion on himself. he hesitated only a moment before padding into the shallow water, then started to desperately rinse the dried blood from his hair and face with the sandy water. he winced at the distateful stench of algae and fish.
the sound of a branch snapping plunged him from his unpleasant thoughts, replacing it with something closer to fear. (he should have known; the water was used for other things and it was early enough for most humans to start their days; how was he to explain this; should he bother with pretty, desperate words; should he lunge like a beast and descend upon whomever and ----) it did not much alleviate when he thrashed around and recognized the elf. “this is not ....” fuck, he thought. one indignity was not enough, it seemed. he could not even find it in himself to care if she had been trying to find him, or if she had been simply going about her own business and he was unlucky. eyes low, he half turned away from her, despondently continuing to scrape at his skin and silvered hair. “fine. fuck you. i have no idea what i am doing.”
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blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! a collection of icky, bloody prompts for those who like to choose violence. actions are reversible. general warning for blood, violence, murder, death.
𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :
" that's a lot of blood. "
" it isn't mine. "
" what did you do ? "
[ sigh ] " what did you do ? "
" come on. have a taste. "
" holy shit, are you okay ? "
" it looks worse than it feels. "
" you should see the other guy. "
" it's a good look on you. you should get covered in blood more often. "
" lean on me. "
" oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck ? is that what i fucking think it is ? "
" . . . gross. "
[ standing over a body ] " oops. "
" is that a fucking body ? "
" look, i'm sorry, okay ? "
" what the hell happened ? "
" before you say anything, it wasn't me. "
" at least it wasn't me this time. "
" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you pretend it isn't. "
" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you wish it wasn't. "
" i'm not scared of you. "
" you don't scare me. "
" shut up and let me help you. "
" i got your shirt all bloody. "
" let's get you cleaned up. "
" that looks like it hurts. "
" i'm fine, just. . . give me a minute. "
" we are so fucked. "
" what the fuck is wrong with you ? "
" are you gonna help me clean it up or not ? "
" the fucker deserved it. "
" red looks good on you. "
" what the hell did you do ; tap - dance all over the body with ice - skates ? "
" what, did you run over the body with your car a couple times after ? "
" i. . . i didn't mean to. . . "
" sorry. fuck, i'm sorry. "
" this isn't what it looks like. "
" it was an accident. "
" motherfucker ran right into my knife, i swear. "
" people need to look both ways before crossing. . . bullets. "
" would you believe me if i said wrong place, wrong time ? "
" hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay ? "
" they deserved it, right ? please tell me they deserved it. "
" you're bleeding. "
" what the fuck happened to you ? "
" you're getting blood on the carpet. "
" sit down before you fall down. "
" that looks like a you problem. "
𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :
sender spits out a mouthful of blood at receiver's feet
sender spits out a mouthful of blood on receiver
receiver finds sender covered in blood
sender tries desperately to stop receiver's bleeding
sender helps receiver clean up after a kill
sender wipes blood from receiver's face with a washcloth
sender wipes blood from receiver's face with their thumb
sender licks receiver's blood off a knife
sender licks receiver's blood off their thumb
sender lights up a cigarette a foot away from someone they killed before offering one to receiver
receiver finds sender stood over a body
sender stitches up receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]
sender digs their finger into receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]
sender frantically checks receiver for injuries under all the blood
sender guides receiver's bloody hands under a faucet / water source and begins washing them clean
sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood
sender tilts receiver's head back to staunch a nosebleed
sender draws a smiley face out of the blood they spilled :)
receiver finds sender cleaning up a kill in a daze
sender looks receiver in the eye as they shoot / stab / kill someone
sender ruffles receiver's hair, getting blood all over their hand
sender gets some of receiver's blood on them and makes a face
sender flicks blood at receiver to annoy them
sender stomps in a pool of blood to splash it on receiver
sender slips in their victim's blood but receiver steadies them before they can fall
sender steadies receiver when they slip in the blood sender spilled
receiver comes home to sender covered in blood and waiting for them with all the lights off
sender spits out a tooth and it hits receiver
sender tries to wipe blood off receiver but the blood on their hands just makes it worse
sender takes an injury meant for receiver
sender shows up on receiver's doorstep covered in blood
sender sits down quietly next to receiver after receiver kills someone
sender punches receiver in the mouth
receiver watches sender lick the blood off their fingers like its cheeto dust
sender helps receiver bury a body
sender hugs receiver just to get their victim's blood all over them <3
sender hugs receiver just to get their blood all over them <3
sender leans on receiver for support
sender kills someone to protect receiver
receiver finds sender in a frenzy maiming a body after they've already killed it
sender kills someone and the blood spatters on receiver
receiver finds sender desperately trying to wash the blood off of themself
sender kisses receiver to taste the blood on their busted lip
sender shoots / stabs receiver non - fatally as a warning
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