[ stumbles in here with a short announcement of how I am not, in fact, dead, and mostly just quietly lurking. 
I did notice some lovely SC blogs I didn’t see before, so hello, hello lovelies! You’re awesome. Keep at it. 
It might just get me be actually active again, as soon as this stupid brat cooperates. ]

typicalnutjob:

"Misguided Angel Of Death"

T  i  r  a

crowned-prince-of-conundrums:

She sounded so dead

No emotion, no reaction; just a hollowed version of the girl he knew, cherished. And it tore Edward to pieces to see it. 

He wanted to touch her, hold her, to tell her everything would be alright— but he did that last time. He said those words before and then promised to leave her again. Pretty words that turned to shit the second he ran off. How scared she must of been when he didn’t return home and how lonely her world became when there was no one to guide her from her madness. 

This was his fault, and she paid the price. 

His throat tightened, Edward dangerously close to an emotion he hadn’t felt in years when she said she thought he was dead. He took a slow step forward. 

He steadied his voice best he could but even Edward Nigma could not shake the quiver in his words. “I am…I am not, Tira. I left. Again. I am…” He closed his eyes, wanting ever so much to say he was sorry, to beg for forgiveness— but he’d do it again in a heart-beat. His work was too important to ignore, and he hated himself for it. 

"….there’s nothing I can say that will explain actions nor do I expect you to forgive me, but I am here, Tira. I am alive, and I am here."

— “B-but… but are you really… actually… here.”

That simple sentence, more of a statement than actual question, was spoken just barely audibly. Even so, the brunette’s voice quivered and c r a c k e d, syllables tumbling over one another in rather futile attempts to speak. Her throat was tight, her entire frame going numb in shock, in attempting to comprehend something she thought she should be used to. Something she should know better than to subject herself to.

As much as the assassin liked to believe herself independent and free of things as petty and fleeting as attachments, it could not be further from the truth. This was one lonely, sad little monster, one forever t o r n between running from something and clinging to it with desperate grip of her talons.

Thus, her blank facade really could not last that long. Features contorting first in rage, then in hurt, she seemed entirely undecided on which way to sway and what to do; let alone, say. And yet, as soon as Edward stepped forward, Tira leapt back like a skittish, frightened feline, pupils dilating to almost entirely cover those unnatural violet irises.

Paranoia, her old friend, was the first to speak up.
For what if this was a trick of mind? An illusion? Clearly, obviously she only saw what she wanted to see. Only heard what she wanted to hear. 
He was not really here.

     You’re not here. Hah! No, I’m onto you. You’re not. Here. How do I know you’re here? Or you’re you? How do I… we… know that? I don’t, you’re a ghost, you’re a… a… apparition!

With sudden haste, Tira rushed him, doll-like features scrunched in a determined grimace to prove that exact theory. 

     You think you can mock me, b r e a k me with these illusions? Oh nooo, no, we won’t have it!..

A hand extended forwards, swinging at Riddler, swatting at him with apparent certainty that, just like fog, he would fade away and slip through her fingers. That’d prove it. That’d show those forces to mess with her mind!

     … we …

Only he did not. Pale, tiny hand of the girl met a very real, very physical barrier, fingers automatically clasping at the lapel of the familiar suit. Just like that, she was back to the numb state of utmost confusion, lips moving with no sound leaving, eyes darting up at his face and back at her hands that clung to him with silent question.

(Source: eisernedrossel)

crowned-prince-of-conundrums:

This was the second time he left her. Alone. Unattended. 

He hated himself for it. Hated so deeply that his blood boiled in his veins. The visions of her by herself, lost to the madness— it was cruel the first time but the second made him a monster worth hating.

He stood before her, frozen. Uncertain of what to say or what to do. Edward was a man of charm, of lies, but he was not a man capable of expressing his true emotions. 

His nails dug into his palm as he studied Tira’s confused and hurt expression until finally he spoke. “I am back,” his words were quiet, almost lost on his lips, and he could only hope Tira could understand him, and forgive.

—  ”You’re back.”

The voice in which the Bird of Death repeated that simple sentence was nothing like her usual chipper, high-pitched tone; nor like the hoarse, rough manner adopted by her other persona. Instead, it was flat, monotone, almost robotic. 
It was as if something within the girl finally died. Though she did not look disheveled nor malnourished, the air of apathy could almost be tasted in her slack posture and glassy stare.
Finally, a heavy, quivering breath was taken as she quietly spoke.

     ”… I … I thought you died.”

Perhaps, a part of her even hoped he did; for that would still be better than abandonment. Either way, she was used to it.
So used, that when proven wrong, Tira was honestly at a loss of how to react. Should she be relieved? Angry? Should she rush to embrace him, or to pummel him within the inch of his miserable life? 

Clearly undecided on the course of action, with fists curled tight and hunched shoulders visibly trembling, Tira opted for silence once more.

(Source: eisernedrossel)

Artist: Corvus Corax
Track: "01 Intro-Gjallarhorni"
Plays: 51 plays

|| crowned-prince-of-conundrums is spotted;

Was this a ghost? An illusion?
A hallucination, perhaps? That would hardly be the first time, now would it.
The petite brunette simply stared at the other with a nearly absent expression, arms limp by her sides and confused violet eyes ever searching, ever examining for whatever trickery was involved.
Lips parted momentarily in order to speak, only to close again and purse into a thin line.

eisernedrossel sent:

Heeey. Hey, Nightwiiing~! ♪

talkeramongwriters:

theflyinggrayson:

      Well, hey there.

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

[She’s never mentioned anything like this before, always been all smiles, but he supposes he can be the same way when something’s weighing him down.]

image

 

       Is there anything I could do to help, Tira?

[ Oh, but why would she?.. The usually perky female had practically never allowed her conversations to go that far. Certainly not into a territory of having to disclose and discuss personal struggles and strife. 
Of which there were very, very many. 
A good deal of which she would not admit even to herself. ]

       … no, I… I don’t… think…

                     { Ohhh, no. Don’t you even think about it. }

       It’s nothing, really!..

                     { You can’t let him know! Not anything! What do you think he’ll think of you then? }

[ A short burst of distressed laughter escapes Tira’s lips as she shakes her head and brushes an unruly strand of ashen brown hair from a bloodshot eye. ]

       I’m just… a lil’ lonely, I guess. That’s all. Heh.

+5

xranipari:

image

        { ♕ }         ; The Guardian continued to wait for an answer from the girl, staring back at her. She usually wasn’t put off by one’s staring       she had come to expect it from people, considering her physical appearance       but with how much this one was, it was a bit…

          …well, unnerving, to say the least. The first time she’d ever truly been this unnerved by someone staring.

          She was starting to wonder if she should say something with the way she was gaping at her. It didn’t exactly seem like she was going to say anything anytime soon enough. It was actually a surprise once she finally did talk.

                                                    “Ah…well, thank you.”

          Tooth was never one to turn down a flattering compliment. But, that still didn’t answer the question she had posed before hand.

          “So, uh…can I ask you again how you were able to enter my home without my knowing?”

— Well, that was one way to make an impression. What better tactic to earn one’s good disposition than to stare at them for an uncomfortably long amount of time, wordless, unblinking. 

         Why, she had already forgotten why did she climb up here in the first place. The posture of the brunette assassin was surprisingly relaxed, shoulders slack and both gloved hands leaning on to that peculiar, circular weapon reminiscent of a hula hoop that rested on the palace floor. Its sharp wing-shaped blades still bore stains of sanguine liquid, spread in dry splatter patterns over the worn metal surface. 

         It seemed almost unbelievable as to how this tiny thing carried it around, let alone used it. 

         Not that there was much use to it now that the girl stood there dumbfounded and completely off-guard, too captivated by sight of the Queen. It was not that she had not seen anything as strange and unusual before, no, not quite. 
         But what else was a person revering most things avian to do when faced with someone like Toothiana?

image

         "They… they are real, right? It’s… it’s just, they’re so… so… colourful!”

Ugh, really? Stop standing there and gaping like a fool… We’re intruding here, remember?! Quit messing around!
     
I know, I know… But do you see, do you see those wings? Whatcha think she is?
Maybe you can ask her yourself, as soon as you stop this fangirl act. It’s revolting.

         ”I’m… ah-hem!" The thrush straightened herself up, dreamy gaze finally becoming more alert and lively as she put on a bright, friendly grin. "Gee, look at me, being so rude! Unacceptable. I’m so, so sorry.”

image

         "Honestly, I just wanted to see what’s up here! Never seen a place like yours before, nope. Wasn’t sure anyone lived here either, but I opted for being quiet anyway.
I’m very… very good at being quiet. So maybe that’s why?” a soft snicker concluded that last statement, followed by a light and naive shrug.
                           ”… you’re not gonna toss me off the mountain for it, are ya? Heh, eheh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to uh… break in like that.”

randomtengureporter:

vixyish:

Solemn harbingers of death, ladies and gentlement.

[[Yes, how very terrifying. Utterly monstrous.]]

(Source: mortem-et-necromantia)