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#Like is he leathery? Does he feel like a bedsheet
saltidctenid · 1 year
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I am loving all the analysis on Jordan Peele’s Nope as much the next film lover, but let me miss the point of the movie for a second to ask this Very Important Question: what do we think Jean Jackets body feels like? (from the OUTSIDE dear god I don’t want to think about the inside) like what is his “skin” texture
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kinghaargrove · 10 months
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𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒
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What Does Your Muse Smell Like? This post [ x ] and this post [ x ] cover his scent in my HC's already, but I'll just go ahead and compile those again anyway, to make it easy and cohesive. His regular aftershave is called Pour Homme from Paco Rabanne. The scents that most prominent have been described as 'green freshness with a soapy note'. Floral, earthy, woodsy. Pine, fresh rain, amber, and mild soapy cleanliness stand out about this aftershave. Add with it, marlboro cigarettes, leather, subtle hints of motor oil, and mint or cinnamon on his breath between smoking, and you have Billy's average daily scent. On date nights he adds to this with a cologne he reserves for occasions where he wants to leave a lasting impression. Aramis, from Estée Lauder. Most prominently, the scents described come across as fruity, aromatic and bitter/spicy. It's dark, herbal, leathery, smokey and woodsy. It's complex, 'seductive', and has a particular composition that gives it the longevity to linger on clothes or bedsheets for days. One layer deeper: The shampoos, body washes and moisturizers he likes to use are comparatively mild. He has a preference for gentle, citrusy/tropical scents, and he does wear sunscreen during his lifeguard days that smells very simply of coconut and floral notes.
What Do Your Muse’s Hands Feel Like? Billy doesn't shy from hard work. He's a tinker, a mechanic by hobby, a passion for drums, and his hands speak violence better than his mouth speaks English. The scars on his hands and scuffs on his silver ring are plenty telling of the violence he's capable of - it's rare that his knuckles aren't bruised or swollen to some degree, and almost always, his veins can be felt running lines over the backs of his hands. Billy's hands are calloused and firm, strong, out of necessity, but well groomed and capable of surprising amounts of gentleness, on those rare occasions he's allowed to be. On a semi related note about hands. His hands are steady, even under duress, and are capable of achieving very fine, even intensely small detailed work, when necessary. (Very seldomly do they shake, which I'll touch on further down on this post.) Despite a lack of any real, formal training, he's proficient at stitching injuries with these hands, even on his own body. He'd watched the doctors do it enough times, he'd picked up a thing or two for when he couldn't handle (emotionally or financially) going to the doctors as he got older.
What Does Your Muse Usually Eat In A Day? He 'pretends' he wants to be and to eat healthy, but his willpower is very weak to deny much, when it comes to food. He's not particularly health-wise to begin with, anyway, (as we see him smoking cigarettes and drinking beer while working out) and since he's generally not in charge of the groceries, he'll take what he can get. He has a moderate metabolism. This means can pack away a significant amount of food like most young boys can, but his body 'punishes' him by getting a little fluffy in some parts if he doesn't exercise enough, or makes poor choices. Billy is lactose intolerant, but Neil Hargrove does not consider Billy's intolerance as 'serious enough' to provide him alternatives to family dinner. Some days he chooses to make himself suffer from dairy, anyway, considering his favourite cold treats are milkshakes and ice cream. There is not much that Billy won't eat, but he has a considerable dislike of canned mushrooms, taste and texture, and is incredibly weak when it comes to spicy foods.
Does Your Muse Have A Good Singing Voice? His singing voice (when not intoxicated in one way or another) won't make people want to cover their ears and and scream, but he's not a particularly strong vocalist. He enjoys singing, his vocals come across at their 'nicest' in the mid to low baritone range, but he would almost never sing if there's a possibility that someone would hear him.
Does Your Muse Have Any Bad Habits Or Nervous Ticks? A ridiculous number of both. In the realm of bad habits: Billy is dangerously, recklessly impulsive. He smokes, he drinks, swears too much and has little to no control whatsoever, over his temper. He uses party drugs more often than he should. He sleeps too much or too little, depending on what he got up to the night before. He instigates fights for little to no reason, just for a hit of adrenaline and the sting of a brawl. He gets a similar rush out of a fight that he gets out of sex. He's incredibly self destructive. In the realm of nervous ticks: He has anxiety, which he works very hard to hide, but sometimes it comes out as shakes or shivers, and this would be one of the rare instances his hands may become unsteady. When his anxiety is amped (usual triggers involve his father, in most cases, but we see it on his first day of school in Hawkins, and immediately post kegstand), they'll tremble to the point where he can hardly hold his cigarette or flick his zippo. He'll snap his fingers to bring himself back down, shake out his hands, or work out his energy in other ways, via exercising or sex, wherever he can burn himself out. Billy also has enormous difficulties regulating his emotions and impulsive (destructive, to both himself and others) behaviours, part of his BPD, and C-PTSD. One of his tells or ticks is in the way he licks his lips, or licks his teeth when he's about to lose his shit, in one way or another. It's one of very few warnings he outwardly gives before flying off. Another lies in his hard, unblinking stare if he's gearing for a fight. He won't take his eyes off of someone if he's angry, waiting for a move or an opportunity to strike. Though Billy absolutely despises hard eye contact, he makes himself do it anyway, especially in high tension situations. He's learned he gets hurt much worse when he doesn't meet Neil's eyes - this carries over to behaviours and habits he exhibits in situations without him.
What Does Your Muse Usually Look Like/Wear? Denim, denim, denim, and more denim. Being from California, he's not exactly used to extreme lows in temperature. Almost always, he prefers form over function, until it's simply far too cold for a jean or leather jacket with little to no insulation. He's very particular about his clothing, on the rare instances he can afford to be. To him, looks are critical. He wants to be noticed - he wants to be desired, to spark envy in people around him, he wants people to know when he's in the room, and always wants to look and be his best. Unless he's struggling with mental health, he'll style his hair quite nicely almost daily, and put an effort into his appearances. In the peak heat of summer, when it's too hot for jeans, he'll wear shorts, flip flops, and if shirts are required, light, loose muscle shirts or crop tops featuring his favourite bands or sports teams. Usually, very little skin is covered. His aviators, he wears through every season. For middling or cooler temperatures, in the spring or fall or leaning into winter, he wears his levi's, leather riding boots (similar style to these), his denim jacket, or his dad's old leather flight jacket. He prefers button down shirts, or V necks, and seldom wears anything too snug around his throat unless he's got marks he's hiding.
Is Your Muse Affectionate? How So? Yes, immensely so, but getting genuine affection out of him is extremely rare. Billy indulges in physical closeness on the regular. Whether that's positive or negative attention, the source matters little as long as it scratches whatever particular itch he's craving that day. Whether it's a fight or a fuck, he's usually getting what he wants in the end. It's so rare, though, that he gets to be truly affectionate with a person. He doesn't usually let anyone close enough, for long enough for him to get attached and indulge in these softer sides of himself, but when he does, he's so much more than the hardened, aggressive front he puts up for the world to see. Billy's attentive, when someone matters to him, and touch is his love language. He likes to leave his mark on his partners, with bites (and boy is he a biter), with hickeys, but more than that, his hands grow so gentle, to the person he lets into his heart. He'll hold their hand, touch their hair, brush his fingers over their cheek and jaw. He's liberal with touch, and kisses, wherever he can place them, when he's allowed, when his partner encourages it and doesn't turn him away. He likes to be in their space, to simply exist together without expectation.
What Position Does Your Muse Sleep In? Billy is a side or belly sleeper. He usually has one arm curled under his pillow, under his head, and the other hugs it closer under his cheek. He likes to sleep with one leg hiked up, with a pillow or a partner under his leg, or even just touching, but neither are 'required' for sleeping. He can be shoved off from backpacking and not be perturbed. Visuals of his 'usual' sleeping position are here and here
Could You Hear Your Muse In The Hallway From Another Room?To not hear Billy Hargrove anywhere in the house, or even down the street from him, one would have to be immensely deaf. He drives fast to feel the engine roar, plays his music loud, whether it's at home or in the car, and has a penchant for letting his temper fly off the handle and getting loud as a result. Generally, he is a nuisance, and has been the source of noise complaints in his neighbourhood on numerous occasions. He doesn't know much about how to tone it down.
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Tagged by: @executiioner & @fiercehearts & @barhd Tagging: I've seen this going around a lot so I'm not sure who has or hasn't done it yet. If you haven't done it yet, steal it and tag me so I can see it, let's go!
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myurotic · 3 years
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I think Kerrie should get pegged. How would he feel about that? 😏
Oh boy! I went a bit haywire with this ask and wrote a short fic. As usual, lots of fluff and minor NSFW. 
It was an early Sunday morning, light rudely filtering in through the cracks of tightly drawn curtains. A heavy arm draped over your side, and a protesting grumble at the slowly brightening room. 
To say Kerrie slept like a rock was an understatement. He’d recently stopped wearing his right prosthetic to bed, and in all honesty, you were glad. The man already was an unconscious cuddler, and getting up was a struggle. With working hands you might never be able to escape.
Even without his arms, leaving bed was almost impossible. Kerrie had still managed to flip you with his legs, positioning you comfortably on his chest. The mess of blue and black hair partially obscuring his face as a soft smile spread across it. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”
Still fighting your own sleepiness, you gently move the hair from his face, kissing him on the underside of his jaw. Earning you a contented hum from the cyborg. 
But despite the reluctance to leave the tangle of bedsheets, someone needed to make the first move. And it certainly wasn’t going to be Kerrie.
Pushing his arm off you, you sit, straddling his hips with your thighs. Before slapping your hands hard against his chest, vaulting off the bed to get away with your crimes. The surprised yelp almost making you feel guilty.
It did work though. With soft thuds following slowly behind you, a lazy head resting on your shoulder as you set to work brewing coffee. 
“I’ve got a package arriving today.” 
Kerries perks up, the pressure on your shoulder easing slightly.
“Oh? Anything important?”
“Nothing much, just something I want to try out.”
Ruffling his hair, you hand him his coffee. Careful to make sure he has a grip on the handle before you let go. Kerrie giving you a short chuckle before beginning to drink.
The rest of your day is rather uneventful, the both of you content in your shared silence. With the occasional hip grab or hair ruffle inbetween watching Kerrie tinker over another machine. Replacing his hand every so often with another random tool to make the job easier. 
…That and playfully wiping grease on your arm. A habit you really wish he would drop, but the peal of laughter and subsequent hug make it almost bearable.
It’s almost late afternoon when the doorbell finally rings. A small brown box placed inconspicuously at the front door. Bringing it inside, you place it down on the kitchen counter. Kerrie following into the room at the sound.
Smiling, you look up at him. 
“It’s here!”
Removing the packing tape, you hold up the item. A simple black strap-on harness with matching dildo.  “So- I was wondering if you wanted to try pegging?”
Kerrie gives you a look of apprehension, moving his hand to gently rub the back of his neck. He goes silent, struggling with exactly what to say. 
“Babe, you’re allowed to say you don’t want to.”
Concern tugs at the edge of your voice, you certainly hadn’t received this kind of reaction from other suggestions you’d made in the past. And you certainly didn’t want to push Kerrie into anything he wasn’t comfortable with. 
“No! No- It’s nothing like that.”
He swallows, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to seem more relaxed. 
“Just, not very used to being on the receiving end you know?”
“Makes it a bit more vulnerable than usual- and I can’t exactly use my hands in case...  yeah.”
His brow furrows slightly, concern spreading across his face the longer he thinks about the worst case scenario.
Gently you grab his hand, your fingers splaying apart his metal ones as your other hand works on smoothing out the worry lines from his face. 
“Kerian, you’ve never accidentally hurt me before. Why would this time be any different?”
Kerrie doesn’t reply for awhile, concentrating more on the soft touches. But when he does it surprises you slightly. 
“Alright, but can we clean up first?”
Grinning, he ruffles your hair, giving you a soft chuckle as he pulls you into the bathroom. Turning on the tap to the bath.
“Y’know, you’re gonna be the death of me someday.”
Motioning to the shoulder joint of his prosthetic, he pokes his tongue out at you.
“I’m gonna need some help with this sparky.”
It’s a silly nickname, one you earned when you got a bit too curious in Kerrie’s garage one-day. Accidentally giving yourself a shock when you touched a live wire in one of his old prosthetics. Since the incident you’d become almost a master at detaching his arms though, being able to find the small lever under the plastic casing with ease. 
As the arm comes off, Kerrie breathes a sigh of relief. The weight no longer bearing down on his shoulder. Quickly removing the rest of his clothing, he sinks into the warm water of the bath. Waiting for you to follow. 
You certainly don’t need to be asked twice. You follow in after him, careful not to splash any water on the floor as you lean against the other end of the tub.
Both of you soak for a while, as you wonder if Kerrie really needed to “clean up” or he was looking for a way to relax himself. Moving around, you position yourself behind him. Deciding to help with the rest of his shoulder tension as you work your fingers into the tight muscle, careful to avoid the sensitive spots where the metal connector meets his arm. 
Your efforts are rewarded with a satisfied groan as Kerrie leans his head back against you, almost seeming to fall asleep as you continue to massage. A soft “I love you” assures you he’s not completely gone. 
As the water turns lukewarm, Kerrie grins, splashing a bit of water in your direction.
“Y’know the longer we sit in this cold tub the tighter my ass is gonna get. ”
“Unless this is a secret ploy for my kidneys, then in that case you might need some ice.”
He can barely contain his laughter as you leave the bath, throwing a towel at him. Also laughing as he hugs you from behind. The rough, leathery skin from his arm pressing against your abdomen. 
“Alright, alright. Bedroom?”
Kerrie smiles again, far more relaxed this time.
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Hey- just make sure I can walk tomorrow yeah?”
You’re not sure if that’s something you can promise.
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not-safeforsanders · 4 years
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Enchanted Endeavours
[Chapter One]
Chapter Two: Things You Never Expect
Fic Summary: Fairytale stories for adults; including nymphs, faeries, spirits, demons, witches. Each part has a chapter summary which explains and introduces the story, if you like smut and magical creatures this is the place to be. Each part will have relevant warnings and archives do not apply to every part. Each one can be read standalone, there’s no overarching story, only the theme.
If anyone has requests, feel free to make them, I can’t guarantee that I will include them but I will at least consider them as so far I have about six chapters planned.
Chapter Summary: Have you ever fallen in love with an Eldritch God?
Notes: I dicked around with the tenses a little here because I had no idea how to actually start this one. Roman is such a bottom, Logan is...an Eldritch God.
Roman leans against the bed post as sunlight calmly drifts over his naked body. The bedsheets, a crimson red, tangled around his tanned legs, his long hair haphazardly tied back but sprawling against the pillows he lay against. His heart thuds lowly and peacefully in his chest as the sunlight adds a beautiful glow to his skin. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking lazily with a small smile on chapped lips "You could at least pretend to sleep," his hoarse voice rings out, moving to lie on his side whilst opening his brown eyes properly to meet a calm pair of light grey ones.
Sharp teeth grin back a little, a small shrug of deathly pale shoulders. Roman reaches his fingers to delicately trace the black lines tattooed in some fashion to his lovers skin. His nails graze over the lines that are so much older then he himself is, a silent reverie on his tongue as he does so. "I know you don't particularly need to sleep every night Logan, but that doesn't mean don't try," His companion laughs lightly in response and leans to lightly kiss his lover.
It's not clear to many that Logan is more than human, his teeth a little sharp and tattoos an old language yes, but not quite non human. It's clear to Roman for many reasons although it took a while for him too cotton on. Months in fact.
He'd met Logan by accident in the rain and a hurry one evening, he'd run into a man, this man, who had offered him an umbrella and told him to be careful "Your body is fragile," Logan had said, and smiled with his slightly sharp teeth "You will catch a cold," Roman had told him he was weird and laughed.
It took many months before Logan told Roman the truth and at first the human had thought he was using a metaphor, but then Logan showed him.
"What you see is real but it is not me, not really and not wholly," The man had explained, pulling his shirt over his head; the tattoos Roman so adored visible from where they dip under his waistband, up and over his muscled stomach and chest and up to his neck, most of his skin is full of symbols that the elder just never explains. "It is however, not my only form, but if I show you it, show you the truth Roman, I beg of you not to run," Roman agreed, and sat on the bed and watched.
Logan uttered something in a language the other had not recognised, tracing a large symbol on his chest. Roman watched. His eyes were wide and waiting as Logan's face screwed up in thought and then pain, a gasp on his lips and sweat on his face. The long haired man had stood to help only to get a strangled "No!" In response.
But it was like watching a chrysalis unfold, skin breaking and body shifting. His skin seems to crack a little and then...well it's Logan, but a Logan that makes Roman gasp a little. Five pale eyes stare back, the two he's used to seeing now devoid of an iris or white, now simply a...galaxy, purple and blue with flecks of white; the one in the centre of his forehead only white, whilst the remaining two are pale blue, the skin around them tinged the same colour and matching now the colour of his lips. His ears now point, long and with large holes in the lobe, as though they had been stretched, whilst behind his back are two large, leathery wings the colour of obsidian. Around his wrists is...something, something moving and long. It takes Roman a moment to realise that they are many long and thing tentacle. Logan blinked, and smiled shyly with sharp, pointed teeth.
"Oh," Is all Roman can manage at first.
Then he leaned forward and kissed the breath from his partner's lungs, pulling him back until they're both collapsed on the bed, Logan lying between Roman's legs. His hands cupped Logan's face, his legs curled around the other's with his hips raising. "Enjoyable then?" Logan asked, his voice deep and mellow, with a tint of amusement in his tongue. "And there was me, assuming you would be fearful," He should have really known better of what Roman is like, his curious hands ran over the moving masses wrapping around Logan's arms, then up to touch Logan's wings. They both catch their breath a moment as Roman simply studies his lover's body with curiosity.
"What are you?" Roman asked, his eyes wide with wonder and mysticism, enthralled by Logan's form.
"Very old," is the tired chuckle Logan gives, moving up off of Roman to kneel over his body, wings outstretched in the light of the evening sunset. The human sat up a little beneath him, his eyes trailing over his beautiful partner, committing every new detail to memory, his hands itching to touch some more. "I have been alive since the beginning, travelling and settling and then travelling some more, I was created for Humanity, to love them and care for them; my speciality is writing the laws of the world, to maintain what was once called magic and is now called Physics," Roman smiles up at the other, shaking his head in wonder.
"You're a God," He whispers, Logan blushes a light blue colour in response, ready to protest. "My own God,"
"Perhaps once," The elder smiles bashfully "There was a time where people would worship me but it is not the life I want, I exist to help not to be adored," He shrugs a little, looking down at Roman, who is staring at him like he is all of the stars in the sky in such a beautiful vessel. "Until I met you," He leans back over Roman, his hand placed on his lover's chest and pushing him down, his hands resting on either side of Roman's head as he leans down to kiss him sweetly and softly "Then I thought maybe being adored is not so bad after all," Logan feels the other man grin against his lips, Roman's hands tracing lines along his body.
"I adore you," Roman muttered, his body arching up against his lover's "I'll adore you until I die," Logan's lips meet his own again, kissing him firmly as their hands seek each other's, the elder's body pressing down against Roman's as he pins his intertwined hands down against the mattress below him. Roman's hips jolt up against the other's, grinding up against him. "I want you, I need you," His voice is soft and pleading, a sheen of sweat forming over his skin as his cock twitches a little, the excitement of loving someone as he had for months, but differently, overwhelming his senses as he pleads. "Fuck me," And who is Logan to deny him?
The tentacles unravel from around his arms, trailing along Roman's body and pushing his shirt up and off of him, chuckling as the human arches into the touch with a weak moan on his lips. Logan's hands tease his lover, easing him out of his jeans as the tentacles run over his skin, pressing where he always needs it most, over the sensitive parts that the elder had committed to memory so many times before. Roman is always so responsive, jolting and jerking and arching, moans and gasps and praise on his lips, desperate "please's" making their way over his lips. Logan's eyes watch, hands stripping himself out of his remaining clothes.
He has much more stamina in this body, his wings stretch out in an almost protective fashion as he eases into his lover, an arm wrapping around Roman as he pushes into him, holding him in place. Roman lets him, arms wrapping around the other's chest with his forehead resting against the other's shoulder, his eyes falling shut and a low gasp ghosting his lips delicately as his cock twitches between their bodies. His hands rest on Logan's back, his fingertips tracing the blackened tattoos on his skin slowly and with practised precision; loosing himself in the sensation of being fucked by a God; by something as old as time itself, someone bigger than he could ever be. More than that, by someone he loves as much as he loves life or himself, someone entirely and irrevocably his to worship and treat as his own.
Logan presses into him harder and faster, taking him apart in quick and fluid movements the way Roman has always adored; it makes more sense now why Logan can take him apart in a matter of minutes as though he's the scattered parts of a watch on a countertop, instead of a complex human being. It doesn't surprise him as much as it should that Logan is not Human, when his mouth presses to Roman's skin as though he's trying to draw his very essence from him in the practised way he marks him up, claims him as his own, and in a way that has Roman gasping and whimpering. It doesn't surprise him so much at all as Roman writhes beneath the other, rolling his hips desperately, and in minutes he is climaxing hard and with a growling whimper of his lover's name. In some ways Roman knew Logan was not Human, not with that stamina and those hands or the way that overstimulation feels like a blessing as he continues to press hard into the Human.
Roman knows anyone who he'd serve so easily and so often would at least have to be something ethereal to him. He whimpers out Logan's name like it's a prayer, his nails scratching at the pale skin of the other's shoulder, palms pressing against the tense muscles before ghosting over the thick and leathery wings, revelling in the way the man shudders at the touch.
When Logan finally reaches his climax, spilling into him, Roman feels satisfied, pleased, the way he always does. His own orgasm had left him shaking and in bliss, but nothing quite stills the pounding of his heart and makes his body feel warm as knowing he has been of service to Logan. In life, Roman is so very dominant and demanding, for Logan he is nothing short of a man on his knees for something he loves more than anything. It does not surprise him as much as it should that Logan is something other, something different and something new, but then again even if he wasn't then it's a certainty that Roman would make it so he was. He worshipped him before he knew Logan was a God, he'll worship him all the same now.
--
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a-sweet-pea · 5 years
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Untitled: Cowboy
Next
Refer to THIS POST if you want to know why this is an unpolished, unfinished mess that I’m posting anyway. I’m including a bullet-point summary of the set-up I couldn’t be bothered writing, hopefully that provides enough context to make this enjoyable.
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- Anne is in the desert. Why? How? Who’s to say. That’s a problem for past-sweet-pea who came up with a vague premise and ran with it without developing it any further. It’s safe to assume that something unintentional and indian-in-the-cupboard-y was involved (I vaguely remember something from the later books where the magic key got turned into a car key and sent people back when they tried to start the car? Something like that I bet.
- It is hot and dry and there is exactly one object providing shade within walking distance, so she walks to it.
- It is not, as first assumed, some bizarre rock formation, but a knapsack. The size of a rock formation. This does her a concern.
- Another shadow appears, which does her a new, more concerning concern, and rather than stick around to see what that’s about, she begins to run in the direction of NOT THAT THING
- Unfortunately, THAT THING evidently has other plans, and Anne is trapped under something in stuffy darkness
- Until she isn’t anymore, because whatever is on top of her begins to be lifted up…
A sliver of light appeared at the ground and like the sun rising, it grew and spread across the dirt toward her. She shaded her eyes just in time to spare them the sudden brightness. The rising darkness took form; a smooth brown wall that curved around her with a dry creased texture. 
Leather? 
There was a square of white cloth stuck to the wall. In the dim light, she could just barely make out the words ‘Jenkins Haberdashery’ inked into it
A hat. This is a giant hat.
And it was the hat’s brim that was slowly rising, revealing a growing swath of the yellow dirt beyond. And, pressed into that dirt, another leathery shape.  Another perfectly ordinary thing made heart-stopping by its baffling scale. 
A hand. 
She didn’t want to look, but the receding hat was revealing an entity that filled her entire field of vision. The hand was attached to a tree-like arm, partway covered with the sleeve of a checkered shirt rolled up to the elbow. And the arm was attached to a shoulder and the shoulder to a torso of a man, a giant, kneeling in the dirt. He loomed over her tall as a building, blocking out the sun. He was holding the wide-brimmed leather hat in his hand and staring. 
"What the hell?" His voice rang out above her like a clap of thuder.
She wanted to ask the same question. Or scream and run away. Or maybe both. Probably both.
“This don’t make a lick of sense.” He squinted, eyes practically disappearing beneath furrowed brows. His face looked like it had been carved out of the side of a mountain. "I’ve been dry as a creek bed for a week now. Week and a half if you don’t count the swig a’ dirty water Buck Thompson calls moonshine.” The air shook with a deep rumble that might have been a laugh. "I sure as shit didn’t get drunk offa that.” With a movement like the swinging of a construction crane, he lifted the hat to his head.
“Oh well, better you than the flying scorpions."
His legs shifted; the sound of denim rubbing against denim was as loud as a conversation and the stretching, shifting shadows were dizzying. She shut her eyes and clenched her fists until the upheval stopped. When it did, and she opened her eyes again, he was cross-legged. The toes of his brown boots poked out from under his knees, and there were furrows in the soil where his heels had dragged across the dirt.
“So, what are you supposed to be?”
He’s talking to you.
She couldn’t form words, she could hardly formed coherent thoughts. Her heart was in the vice grip of the most basic, primal kind of fear. Goosebumps rose on her arms, in spite of the baking heat. She wished she could throw up the awful sick lump in her stomach.
“A spirit? One of them ‘demons of vice and iniquity’ Sister Jo’s always frettin over?" 
“N-no!" 
His brows shot up; his eyes were pale blue, almost grey. “Seein' and hearin' things? That’s new.” Something about the implication that she was a figment of his imagination irked her enough to eek out a sentence.
“I-I’m not a demon!"
The giant smiled wide, teeth shining against his sun-baked skin. “Well, ain’t that just what a demon would say?” He rested his elbow on his knee and leaned his head on a balled fist. “You’re a bit plain for a hallucination though. No wings? No funny colors?”
Anne took a wobbly step toward him. “I’m…real! I don’t know why I’m so small, or-or everything’s so big, but I-I’m not imaginary.” Shouting made her head hurt. Or maybe it was the heat. “If anything, you’re imaginary.” She nodded. “That’s got to be it,” she said more quietly, to herself. “I-I’m dehydrated, I’ve got heatstroke from walking around in this desert." 
She wiped the sweat from her forehead. It mingled with the sweat on her face and dripped down her chin. How many pints of water had she lost already? It was no wonder she was seeing giant hats and bags and cowboys.
“If you’re real, how come you ain’t got any substance?"
Anne didn’t see him reach out; she was busy staring off into the distance, trying to set eyes on some reasonably-sized landmark. By the time she turned around, it was hardly a few feet from her.
His hand.
A human hand the size of a four-door sedan, coming toward her palm first. A scream lodged in her throat, she couldn’t voice it. Warm fingers thick as her thighs wrapped around her and just like that she was off the ground; carried ten, fifteen, twenty feet in the air, as if by a rogue amusement park ride.
This isn’t happening.
But incredibly, it was. Neither hand nor girl had passed through the other, both were equally, improbably, corporeal. Anne slid down a few inches in his half-committed grip; It seemed he hadn’t expected her to be quite so solid. Her feet kicked uselessly in the open air as she scrambled for a foothold.
“What the...” The giant’s voice coming from some ambiguous direction, maybe all of the directions at once.
She tumbled head over heels in the air and then she was free-falling. Before she had a chance to scream, she hit the ground. But not the ground. Brown leather. She was in the hat again. It was upside down this time, and beyond its walls was nothing but dazzling blue sky, and the head and shoulders of the giant. The bemused smile was gone from the his face; his eyes were wide, his mouth hung open, he was shaking his head slowly.
“Well, don’t that beat all…”
The head eclipsed half of the circle of blue above her, and it was getting bigger. The hat was rising; slower than the gut wrenching grab of the hand, but it still made her queasy.
“A little lady.”
Warm breath washed over her face and the sound of his voice vibrated the air around her. It was all just too close, too loud, too much. She pushed away from the face until her back was pressed up against the curved leather wall, but the hat was still rising up, the face was still getting closer.
“Howdja get so small?”
She hugged her legs tight to her chest and tucked her chin against her knees. It didn’t help her feel any safer. He was smiling again. His face hung in the air twenty feet above her, like a hot air balloon with teeth.
“S’matter, cat got your tongue? You were awful talkative before.”
“I, I-” Anne couldn’t take her eyes off the enormous face, but staring at it was only making things worse. The huge staring eyes, creases in his forehead long and deep as furrows in the dirt, the whole bulk of him like some cowboy-Mount Rushmore. It was all too much. “Please…” She couldn’t finish the sentence becuase there wasn’t an end to it. There was just the wordless, overwhelming fear swirling in her head. And tears in her eyes
“Hey, it’s alright, I was only teasin!”
She laughed, and cried, and tried to take a deep breath but it came in hiccupping bursts. Something moved in the corner of her eye. She turned her head and the source of the movement became clear as the glaring desert sun disappeared behind the silhouette of a giant hand.
“N-no!” She pushed her back against the wall of brown cloth, as if she could disappear into it.
The shadowy hand held still in the sky above her. "Easy, easy.” The giant spoke quieter, almost a whisper. “I ain’t gonna grab you. Honest.”
The hand didn’t come toward her, it moved to the pocket of the giant’s shirt, and pulled out what looked like a red and white spotted bedsheet (but was no doubt a handkerchief). Then the hand, holding the handkerchief, did come toward her. Down from the sky and into the hat, closer and closer, pinched between a massive finger and thumb, until it was only a foot away from her. The cloth looked surprisingly clean, given that there was a fine layer of dirt settled into the creases and wrinkles around his thumbnail.
“How about you dry those eyes?”
She reached for the corner of cloth, her arm was trembling. Pull yourself together. There was a warm breeze coming from above her. She didn’t want to look up; she knew what it was. But she couldn’t help herself. She looked up and immediately back down. His face is so close. Her hand was shaking even more now, she couldn’t even bring herself to reach the extra few inches to the cloth.
“Go ahead.”
“I-I’m trying,” her voice cracked pathetically. “You’re just…really big!” Her eyes stung hot, and suddenly the tears were flowing again. He’s not though, you’re small. Tiny, and totally helpless. She tried to take a breath to calm herself but the air came in sniffs and catches, she couldn’t manage a lungful.
The hand and handkerchief receded. “Aw, now you’ve got me goin.” She looked up, managing shuddering, but full, breath. There were tears welling in the giant’s eyes and his cheeks were flushed.“I don’t mean to frighten you, darlin,” he wiped the tears from his eyes; leaving shining trails across his dry skin. “Honest, I wouldn’t lay a hand on ya, even if you was a demon!”
She hiccuped, a puzzled smile on her face. “Why are you crying?” She pressed her sleeve against her eyes.
“I got a-” he blew a thunderous blast into the hanky. “Soft heart. Cain’t stand to see a lady in distress.” He wadded up the soiled cloth and tucked it back in his shirt pocket. “Cry so much, the boys even got a nickname for me, back in town.” He chuckled. “Boo-hoo Boone.”
“Is that your name?” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “Boone?”
“Sure is.” The giant inclined his head. “Would you be so kind as to give me yours? Unless you prefer darlin’.” His lip curled in a sort of half-smile, and she couldn’t help smiling back.
“It’s Anne.”
“Well, it’s mighty nice to meet you miss Anne. I’m awfully sorry I gave you such a fright.”
“I-it’s okay.” She nodded. “You didn’t mean to.”
“I sure didn’t.” He looked up and squinted, and wiped something from his forehead instead of his eyes. “Miss Anne, I don’t suppose I could ask a favor of you, could I?”
“Sure?”
“Well, I’m gonna burn red as a cherry if I ain’t careful.” He looked down sheepishly, and then slowly, the baking sun was once again eclipsed by a shadow hand. “May I, uh, escort you…um…outta my hat so I can put it on again?”
“O-Oh! Yeah, I didn’t mean to monopolize it.”
“Well, I reckon it’s my fault for dropping you in there in the first place; I’m awfully sorry about that by the way.” His eyes went wide and earnest. “I won’t do somethin as damn foolish as that again, I promise you that.”
Anne just nodded. The hand was coming closer, and she didn’t feel confident in her ability to talk without squeaking. Slowly, tentatively, rough thick fingers reached out to her. They just brushed against her first; a few fingers against one side, the thumb against the other. She didn’t scream, or squirm, or try to get away, so the warm digits gently pressed against her, and then she was lifting up into the air.
Her heart was racing, maybe Boone felt it, because he whispered, “It’s alright, I ain’t about to drop you.” She looked down in time to see the brown oval of the hat slip away beneath her, and looked up in time to see it placed firmly on the top of his head.
“That’s better.” She hadn’t thought there was anything missing about him, but seeing the hat on his head, Anne got the sense of the last piece of a puzzle being put in place. His face certainly had that satisfied look about it.
“Now then…” Anne was lowered slowly, and her feet touched something warm and soft. The fingers loosened their grip and Anne fell to her hands and knees on the skin of a giant palm. Warm and living and utterly incomprehensibly enormous. “Lemme get a proper look at you.”
Anne stood up, and fought to stay standing as the hand shifted beneath her. Boone shook his head slowly, blowing a long stream of air through pursed lips that washed over her like a cool breeze. “You sure are something, you know that?” He’d lifted her high enough that they were almost eye level with each other, and his were wide with wonder. “You, you ain’t even knee-high to a strawberry.” His low chuckle filled the air around her, but it was too pleasant to be thunder.
Ps @a-black-pegasus , this is that cowboy thing I mentioned that one time. Also, what up @questionable-breads . @wolfie180g @mostgarlicofbread Please enjoy.
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captainatin · 6 years
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Blood Moon Lost Child chapter 1: Rising Tides
A bat squeaked as it flapped its leathery wings and weaved through rock formations before fluttering out of sight. The sea bubbled with foam as it tossed and turned, smashing itself against the rocks with a sweet rhythm. A ripple shook out from the crimson moon and washed over the landscape. The tides grew more furious and the wailing souls of the dead caught inside began to rise up and take form once again; pirates, merchants, regular folk who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A small boy skipped across the rocks and his feet glowed to protect him from the sharp spires that stuck up from the raging sea. He glanced around at the white hazes that swirled around him and he grinned before he resumed his acrobatics while humming to himself. All the odd happenings seemed to be normal to the child, he never tilted his head in confusion nor did he stop to ask them what they were doing; the boy stared at the hazes and swiped his hand through one of them to take hold of the essence that made up the being’s soul. 
“Happy birthday to me!” He chimed melodically as he bit into the glowing soul and bat ears flipped up from his head. “Happy birthday to me!” He jumped to the next spire and spun on his heel as he took another bite. “Happy birthday dear,” the child paused for a long moment as he struggled to find the words to use. “me?“ There was another long silence and the spirits seemed to halt in their places, they stared at the bat eared boy and blinked as they rippled as if they themselves were made of the bubbling sea below them. “What?” The boy narrowed his eyes that glistened like sapphire. He shrugged before he spat at them and stuck his tongue out. “Stop staring at me you salty bedsheets!” He huffed before he finished devouring the soul shard in his hands. “What is it about these?” He grumbled as he chewed and smacked it around inside his open mouth. “Oh come on, I’m hungry! You can’t really blame me.” He swallowed hard and held eye contact with the spirit of a weary captain. His spectral beard flowed in the wind as if it were soaked in the waters crashing up around him as he rose closer to the boy and leaned disturbingly close. “I said buzz off!” The adolescent's stark blue eyes suddenly flared red like flames as he reached out and grabbed the phantom by their neck. “This is my turf, you flakey dim bulbs merely adopted the blood moon.” His mouth unhinged and the white essence flooded into him and made him twitch as he purred with delight. He licked his lips and shuddered again as he bounced on his heels. “Thanks for the food, it was delightful!” He stared down as the glowing in his chest started to subside and he felt empty. The fire in his eyes died out and his crystal blue iris returned to his pale expression. A weary sigh rang out as he stared towards the nearest sign of land aside from the rock formation he was skipping across. “Where does our purpose lie? Humans like to make it oh so complicated.” He reached out and grabbed the spirit of a little boy that looked a lot like him, the boy had his black hair overgrown in the back and was more curly than any tumbleweed or bramble thicket. “It’s so fun to not care at all, if only you could see the same things as me, throw off those shackles that keep you so wrapped up in everything that’s sooo confining!” The child stared into the rippling soul and tilted his head as he pressed his forehead against the phantasm as if to share their thoughts. “I wonder what type of kid you were while you were alive. I wonder how you used your soul, I’ve never found a good use for it; although I guess it’d help if I actually had one.” The bat eared boy chuckled as he poked his finger in the mist where his ears would have been mirrored if the boy were truly just like the peculiar child with the nonexistent heart. They stared into each other and blinked in perfect synchronization, the boy standing on the rocks reached out and wrapped his hands around the spirit’s throat. “So what do you have that I don’t? I already know the answer but I can’t really feel put my finger on what difference it really makes.” His eyes flickered red for a brief moment as the boy in his clutches opened their eyes as wide as possible and they shuddered violently, gasping for breath they didn’t even need as the choking sensation coursed through them. “It’s not really up to me, don’t worry about the pain. Nothing is gonna matter after you fade anyways, I wonder if you believed in any form of god or goddess, can they hear your cries? Can you hear them comfort you? Can you hear them spit on you and damn you into the nothingness? Can you hear them at all?” The bat eared boy throttled the specter and grinned widely as the fire in his iris overflowed and filled in the whites of his eyes. He glanced to his arm and remembered the large gash that had only recently healed, leaving a nasty scar that stretched from the base of his thumb to his elbow. “What do you want from them? What did you want from life? What did you want? Why did you want? Who did you want? Does it really matter what you want?” The spirit rippled and started to show cracks as if it were made of stained glass. “What is it like to have a soul?” He chuckled as the cracks spread out and covered the phantom. “You know what?” He tilted his head back and stared up at the blood moon and frowned as the brass colored light shimmered down on him. “I think I’ll just stop caring, it’s never gotten me anywhere has it? I’m standing on a desolate rock formation as a pale boy shunned from the real world. Do they really think I’m going to starve? Can I even get thirsty? I’ve never known these common feelings, why should I anyways?” He bit into the cracks on the soul and it shattered into a million pieces as it crumbled into the boy’s mouth. “It’s so boring here!” He continued to chew with his mouth open as he gnashed the essence with his teeth as it quickly dissipated as quickly as it shattered. “It’s just annoying, stupid stupid humans! Think they can do whatever they want because they have more than I do.” He looked around at the other souls and began skipping from one formation to another as tried to pick out his next victim from the spirits rising up towards the moon. “I wonder what’s going to happen to me.” He sat down and curled up in a ball, not a pathetic ball of cowardly fear but a ball of boredom that narrowed its eyes at the general world that they thought about. “What’s going to happen to this rock? Should I blow it up? Can I blow it up? I wonder,” he paused and started rocking back and forth as he closed his eyes tightly. “I wonder, I wonder, I wander. Where will I wander?” The boy cooed softly as he tried to focus on the chilling noise of the waves below him, churning the ocean as it slapped against the rocks in a strange melody. “I have a head I can use, why do I have to talk to you guys out loud? It’s not like I care what a flimsy wraith thinks of me.” His mouth unhinged as he yawned and continued to rock back and forth, aligning his swaying with the crashing of the waves around him. He couldn’t help but feel drowsy as the clouds draped over the crimson moon and the chill of the waters below clung to him and numbed his senses to the point where he could only feel the tingles that the shivers sent down his spine. His throat rumbled as he purred softly and relaxed his eyelids and felt his thoughts drift away from him slowly and subtly. The images in his mind molded around and took away the bleak surroundings that was drowned in the red glow of the lunar eclipse, instead his mind was replaced with the image of pink flowers scattering around him in the flurry of strong winds. The petals parted to reveal a vast ocean and a sail being pushed by the furious winds. The sight was calming yet so strange to the boy. I don’t remember this, how can I have a dream of something I’ve never ever experienced? He looked down at his hands and noticed that the splotches of mud were nowhere to be seen; the cuts along his arms were nonexistent and his clothes seemed to glimmer like gold. What’s going on? Something is so very wrong here, I don’t understand why this is happening. I’ve never been here, this doesn’t make any sense at all! Dreams of something I can’t know?
“Do you know what a vision is, little one?” A soft voice echoed across the vast ocean and rang sweetly in his ear. The voice was clearly that of a young woman but it was so unfamiliar to him that he couldn’t help but feel nervous. There was a long silence as the child glanced around to try and find where the noise came from in the midst of the powerful winds that soon slowed down to a gentle breeze. “What is your name?” The silky voice chimed again and the boy twitched. “Y-You do have a name don’t you?” Her voice hiccuped slightly which gave some small comfort to the boy who still couldn’t help but glance around for some explanation.
“Yeah, it’s Rev.” He rubbed his left arm with his right and didn’t feel the deep scar that he knew should have been running down it, his ears twitched and he felt no holes in them, everything felt pure and blissful. “So where exactly am I? This isn’t just a dream according to you; so what gives?” He gritted his teeth and shifted uneasily. When something’s going right you better be careful because something is about to go oh so very wrong. The boy thought to himself as he tapped his foot against the small raft he was standing on. The waters were calm and the breeze stopped, leaving him stranded in the vast ocean of petals. “So, are you going to answer me or what?” He took the time to take in his surroundings, not to admire the beauty, but to get an idea of where he was. Visions come real don’t they? I better keep this place locked in my head for later. He swallowed the lump in his throat and shuddered slightly. Fate, that’s really not a word I want to hear. You better not recite any BS about destiny or how I’m so child of prophecy, you better buzz off before my eyes flare and I rip out your soul. Maybe your higher power nonsense will actually satisfy my hunger for a little while. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder where I’ll wander. He looked back over the vast sea and spotted a spiraling trail of the pink petals. I can’t row after it, I don’t have a paddle. He crept up to the edge of the raft and dipped his toe in the water, it was only then he realized that he was much taller than he remembered and that he was wearing tall boots that reached halfway up his calves. “Hello?” He called out again as he dipped his whole foot in the water, the chilling sensation rushed through him before he quickly drew it out and shook his leg to be rid of the stinging feeling that had come with it. That’s not just regular salt water, there’s something off about it I’m sure. He bent down on one knee and stared into the water in front of him, his reflection was perfectly normal; there were no scratches on his face and all of the other wounds on his arms and on his ears were gone. This is wrong, this isn’t right, where is everything that shows that I have lived? Where is everything that shows that I have had fun? That I’ve done something with the existence I myself have struggled to sustain. Where’s the struggle? Where’s the fight needed to keep going? “What have you taken from me?” He shouted out into the waters and growled in frustration at the apparent silence he was being given by the mysterious voice. “What do you want from me?” He placed his forehead against the bottom of the raft and pounded his fists on the oak wood and tried to release some of his anger. “I asked you what you want from me!”
“P-Please can you can quiet down?” The voice chimed back in and the spiraled trail of pink petals reformed into a straight line. “I’m sorry that you, uhm, you like being hurt for some reason? Or, uhm, like knowing that you’ve been hurt?” The lady stuttered and the strange hesitation could be heard as clearly as the bright light of day that surrounded the boy on the lonely raft.
“I like knowing that I’m alive, the only thing I can gather from this experience is that I’m either some child of destiny bull crap or that I’m just a corpse floating through the ocean right now and this is some sick game before I go to the vast emptiness that is death.” Rev gritted his teeth and stood up before thrusting his fist into the sail and tore it down viciously. His cold blue eyes gazed into the sun but he felt no pain, the light was blinding like normal yet he continued to stare. I’m right, I’m dead, great! Fantastic! No more fun, just sitting here in this pile of boredom on this stupid, damp, frigid, piece of oak crap! He growled as he clenched his fists and tossed his gaze around.
“Well, uhm, you’re not exactly dead yet.” She paused and a soft clicking noise echoed through the waters that gently sloshed around the shabby raft. “Yet….yeah, uhm, I don’t know if I’m supposed to do this, this is my first time interfering with the human world in this kind of way.” The girl hummed and the clicking sound changed in texture as it got louder, the nervousness getting to an unbearable level as it radiated off of her voice.
“Good to know you are some kind of deity that decides my fate that is gonna be set in stone. Or are you more like some kind of grand spirit? I’m really curious as to who is correct about all that- oh oh!” The bat eared boy bounced on his heels and raised his hand as he chimed mockingly. “Are you some kind of angel? Are you going to tell me that some random whore is gonna have a divine child and I have to be the daddy?” He grinned widely to show his yellow pointed teeth as he leaned against the pole that the sail was on and started spinning the cloth with two of his fingers. A silence fell on the serene seascape and the boy grinned wider as he mentally praised himself. “What’s wrong, cat caught your tongue?” He flicked his neck to toss his curly hair out of his eyes.
“You, uhm, really don’t know who I am do you? Uh, I guess there are a lot of humans that don’t believe in us anymore.” The voice grew more sheepish and they muttered something incomprehensible as the sound grew farther and farther away. “Uhm, well you could be a little less mean about it.” Her voice drew closer and there was a brief silence before she let out a weary sigh and made another clicking noise. “Are you even old enough to know that kind of stuff? How old are you?”
“Ya know, for a powerful spirit or whatever you are, you really don’t have that knowledge part of the deal do you?” The boy scoffed and rolled his eyes as he started randomly poking at different places on the sailcloth as he idly started making a popping sound with his lips. I wonder if she’ll actually believe me; grown ups have never gotten along with me very well. I bet she’s no different from anyone else, grand spirit or human they’re all unable to relate to me. His boot tapped against the raft and made it dip deeper into the water ever so slightly. “I’m twelve as of today, a dozen years of life, six times two.” His fingers fiddled their way to one of the corners of the sail and started rolling it back and forth for a moment before he rolled it up into a makeshift telescope without any of the glass lenses.
“You’re only eleven?” The girl sounded surprised and the petals all jumped into the air and floated there for a brief moment before they drifted back down to the surface of the water. “I-I thought you’d be a little bit older, oh well, I guess it doesn’t really matter all that much.” She huffed and dismissed it almost as quickly as the thought had entered her mind. “Anyways, if you could follow the path of petals that would be great.” Her words hung in the air as the boy simply stared and placed a hand on his hips as he started to tap his foot slightly harder than before. “Uhm, i-is something wrong?”
“Yeah, there’s quite a few things wrong here.” Rev grumbled as he rolled his eyes again and his bat ears twitched slightly as they turned around in another futile attempt to locate the source of the voice. “First off, why should I trust you? I really don’t know who or what you are so I have no reason to go anywhere with you or for you.” He bit his lip and drew a small amount of blood as he started to chew.
“Uhm, b-because I, uhm,” The woman paused again as she tried to find any form of counterargument. “I guess you’re right about that one; you have no reason to trust me or do anything I tell you to.” The boy nodded in response and spat into the water with a small drop of blood being caught. “I-Is there anything I can do to change your mind? A-Anything at all?” She stuttered onward as the petals behind the raft started drifting forward towards the horizon. The light above the boy’s head suddenly started moving rapidly as it changed from midday to twilight in a matter of moments. “D-Do you like the night better? I-I thought that maybe with the bat ears you’d be a little more comfortable here.” Her voice grew a little more cheerful as the stars came out and started glittering against the water, her eagerness to make the boy comfortable could feel no other way but suspicious.
“Awwwh, how did you know?” Rev snickered slightly as he looked up at the pale moon that shimmered just like his skin. She’s trying to get me comfortable, get me to let my guard down before she thrusts something onto me and I have to go to some far away land to do some far away junk that I don’t want to do and I’ll waste so much time and I won’t have any fun at all on this stupid quest. He tapped his foot slightly harder and the raft was put under the water that sloshed onto it and started to continue to pile on it more and more, pushing it farther and farther under the gentle waves.
“Well, uh, I just guessed because bats really like the dark and you have those cute little ears and, uh, I just thought that maybe you’d like it.” The disembodied voice chuckled awkwardly and let out a mild sigh of self directed frustration.
“Isn’t that a little presumptuous of you? Just because I have bat ears doesn’t mean I’m totally batty!” The boy chuckled as he felt his entire body swarmed with the chilling waters that stung at every part of him despite there not being any wounds for the salt to irritate. “So, uh, I’m going to ask my second question now.” He twinged with pain as his clothes were soaked through by the mysterious waves that gently lapped at his shoulders. “Do you really want me to just swim down this path since I don’t have, uh, a boat or, uh….oh god stop it!” He twitched and started flailing around in the waters as the pain started to become unbearable. “Just take me out of this blasted water!” He swallowed the lump in his throat and struggled to keep his shoulders and neck out of the water. “Stop torturing me you lunatic!”
“What’s wrong? It’s, uh, holy water! N-Nothing should be hurting you right now, it’s meant to cure all your wounds and purify you and all those sorts of things.” Her voice rose in pitch as she started to panic and the petals started fluttering around. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise! P-Please don’t be mad at me or hate me or shun me or refuse to hear me, please?” The petals sunk into the water and gathered under the boys feet and quickly sprung up and made a sort of raft of their own that held him up despite being too weak to carry him if they were regular flowers.
“Holy water?” Rev shook off as many of the droplets as he could as he continued to shudder in pain. “You really have no clue who you picked to do-” He cut himself off as he faded into silence, gazing towards the same rock formation that he had been on when he had fallen asleep. “To do whatever the hell it is you want me to do.” The boy’s ears twitched as he tried to wiggle more of the cruel specks off of him.
“What do you mean? Holy water should have no negative results on humans who are not in the control of an evil spirit or cursed by any of the gods. I sense no evil spirits or curses anywhere near you; even if you did have curses upon you, they’d be quickly melted away by the enchanted fluids.” The woman hummed with confusion and let out another weary sigh. Clicking sounds came from her once again before the flowers danced in the air for a moment as she thought.
“Can you at least get the rest of this crap off me while you try to figure this garbage? I really don’t want to feel like I’m coated in a kraken's stomach acid! Unfortunately, I’ve seen some people experience that.” The adolescent growled and seethed in pain as he clutched his left wrist and swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Oh, sorry, yeah that would probably help some wouldn’t it?” With just those words storms suddenly started clouding up the sky and began downpouring torrents of rain onto the child who was already drenched. In a matter of moments the clouds passed and the boy was whisked closer to the rocks that he had come to know so well. “I-Is that better? A-Are you alright? I said I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry, I’m use to being tortured by girls.” Rev grunted as he sat down on the pile of petals and looked away. It didn’t matter if he thought he was above pouting, his expression gave away everything. What kind of woman is this that she tortures me one moment and asks me to help her the next? It’s always the opposite order with humans. Are spirits really that different? No, there’s no way anyone can be different, everyone just wants to chase their desires in their own weird way. He stared at stalagmite that stood high above the water, the slightly curved ones next to it gave away its identity as the one he had original drifted off to slumber on.
“Uhm, w-what do you mean by that?” The woman’s sympathy fell on ears that were unwilling to listen, she knew he could hear her but questioned if he would ever answer. “A-Are you alright? You can talk about it if you want.” Her voice bubbled back to its normal cheerfulness as she offered her condolences.
“You assume that it’s anything worth talking about.” He rolled his eyes in retort as he jumped onto the stone spike and started climbing his way up by clawing at the openings in the grey rocks. So what is the deal with this spirit? She refuses to answer questions about herself but she’s oh so very nice and chummy when it comes to me and my problems. I don’t even think she knows that I don’t think they’re problems. The boy grunted with each tiny leap and scrape that bent his fingernails back a little further each time. I decide what I do, I am my own person and I don’t need some spirit to tell me or anyone else what to do! He had almost reached the top when his shoulders suddenly started to tense up as he felt a cramping sensation surge through him, he became as stiff as board and groaned in pain as his neck tilted back slightly before it too became a great pain. “Holy hell, not again!” The sense was familiar, it was the only true pain that had ever bothered him besides his newfound experience with the holy water that surrounded the stone pillars. “I don’t want these back! Just go away before I have to get another thing to devour.” The ever present hunger in his stomach churned and made a sound similar to that of a dying whale as it longed for sustenance. Why the hell am I hungry so soon after absorbing two souls? Normally that stuff lasts me a few weeks! He gripped his stomach with one hand as his other held tightly to the stone to prevent himself from falling back into the calm waters that somehow came off as more threatening than the bubbling ones from before. It’s so eerie, so silent. What the hell is she gonna say next? Where the hell am I even supposed to go from here? He swallowed the lump in his throat as his feet glowed again and he lifted himself onto the spike that had a smooth white surface floating just barely above it.
“Oh, you have magic too!” The voice suddenly chimed in again at a much louder volume than ever before, startling the boy and making him nearly jump out of his skin. “You seem to have at least a basic understanding of what you can do with your soul power.”
“Never, ever do that again!” Rev glared around as he was left hanging onto the tip of the spike and dangling off the edge as he was forced to stare at the unsettling sea that gently lapped against the rocks. I swear to god this woman has already tried to get me killed more times than those stupid priests that keep pestering me any time I come within a few yards of them, what gives? He hoisted himself up again with another grunt of irritation. “You know what? I’ve had it! I’ve had it with this lack of explanation, lack of planning, and overall lack of any thought put into whatever the hell it is you’re trying to get me to do because you clearly have no idea who you’re talking to in the slightest!” He started shouting as he clenched his fists and jumped to a curved spire. “I mean really, an entire ocean of holy water to make me swim through? You might as well ask me to slice open my brain and pour salt all over it!” He spun around on his heel to face the main piece of the rock formation, a large platform that sat at the top of several spikes that arranged themselves in an informal staircase fashion.
“And who exactly do you think that you are?” The woman’s voice suddenly grew serious, any semblance of peace and compassion had been lost in a matter of moments. “I would really love it if you could enlighten me on your predicament so that I may aid you with my divine powers and purity.” It was hard for the boy to tell if it were an insult or an invitation so he simply shrugged in response and started skipping his way across the rocks, much to the dismay of the disembodied voice that yearned for a deeper answer.
“I’m Rev, I was a boy born without a soul.” The adolescent scoffed as he allowed the words to sink in for a long moment as silence draped over them, even the gentle sloshing of the waters below them had halted in order to leave him be. “I don’t expect you to be able to imagine what it’s like not to have the same thing as literally every human on the face of the planet, I quite like it if I do say so.” He grinned and took a sloppy bow as his hair flipped down and hit his eyes, causing him to flinch back in pain and brush it away.
“Ah, so that’s why the holy water hurt you.” The girl hummed pleasantly, the soft sound was soon starkly contrasted by the sound of her clearing her throat. “That does explain a few things, particularly the amount of aggressiveness you have towards me being supernatural in nature.” She made the clicking sound again for a few moments as she awaited a response from the crass child.
“Yeah, apparently not having a soul is seen as a curse to your blessed well water! How can you even explain how all your mystic crap works?” The bat eared boy growled as he started leaping up the different spikes, the white panels below his feet cracked with each rough landing as his hands struggled to find secure rocks to latch onto before making his next jump.
“Like you’re one to talk! You’re the one that can jump on pointed things and not get your feet mutilated like that last soul you devoured.” The voice bit into him with aggression that hadn’t been present before.
“So what the hell does it mean to you? So what? Nothing is gonna happen to me after I die anyways, I don’t care if there’s any kind of afterlife because I already know that it’s just plain not for me.” Rev rolled his eyes again as he climbed his way to the flat surface at the top of the rock formation. His jaw slowly dropped as he was met with a brilliantly shining light that drowned out everything else he could have possibly seen.
“I am Kebechet, goddess of purity and liquid embalming….” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “What say you to answer for your crimes?”
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