He had to admit it! He loved to talk with that woman, lost in her speeches imbued with clever irony, a so poisonous sarcasm that it was almost impossible to get out of it alive, but he was left fascinated and watched how far she wanted to go, how she was able to evade the intricate web of the Spider. Chrollo laughed and shook his head slightly, as he sank his hands into the pockets of his long black coat, then went to one of the large windows, looking at what lurked outside. But, there were only other abandoned buildings in which hid his loot, there were a full moon and a courtyard strewn with garbage and grass that there was a tendency towards the infinite and indifferent sky, cold and distant as the two of them. Who was he if not a social outcast? If he died no one would cry for him, but he was fine. He sowed death and panic, he took what he wanted regardless of whether he should kill a person or a thousand of them or a whole people.

He clicked his tongue, before this darted between the teeth. The great silver eyes looking at the stars, which seemed tiny diamonds that cast a cold light. He chuckled and shook his head as he understood, he understood that the woman had never stopped to think about how to kill him, see how her venom harden his muscles, cutting off his breath, wrote the word end in the veins and arteries of his body. Even he had never stopped to think of her, but he was able to move forward, ensuring that he could discharge that strong desire to break her neck on other victims. What he liked were the woman’s eyes without pupils, and wanted to see them shine under the light of the moon in a vial full of formaldehyde. They would have been his gift even if he regretted having to kill a woman so intelligent and witty, so clever and smart.

Chrollo licked his lips as he savored that moment, the duel of jokes and venom, that fight between snakes and spiders. “A queen annoying I dare say.” He said, finally breaking the silence they had fallen after she had stopped talking. “A queen who does not know what is her place …” Queen liked to play chess, and he knew that that was the only time of the preparation of the various pieces on the board, it was just the classic warm up before they both throw themselves into the fray, noting carefully every move of the other. Chrollo closed his eyes and let out another laugh, before it began to echo in the room, bouncing off the walls. The laughter died down, but its essence began to hover around them like an invisible fog, pierced by the spears of light of the full moon.

"What is your modus operandi? To poison your opponent after you get what you want." His voice became more serious as he looked out the cracked and dirty large pane that caught the rays of the moon. He also knew that Queen was a clever manipulator, she liked to play with the minds of her victims, and he was well aware of this since they were identical as two drops of water. But, what could a queen against Lucifer? He turned and faced her with a gaze that shone with a sadistic light. "The tribute will be your eyes." He said as he spread his arms. "You will have what you are looking for after you’ll pull out them with a knife and placed your eyes on the floor, then you can go away."

     The stakes were up. She knew it the moment he opened his mouth, the moment he chose to transcend from the dark corners of rationality and morbidity to dip his pale hand into amusement and power -- for what was he but a master of power, taking and conquering as he saw fit? But no, he did have that ridiculous notion that his power was exercised from duty -- a notion she found no real interest in, let alone anything even similar to significance. If he wanted to delude himself with fantasies of loyalty and doing what was 'right', then she would let him -- that was her game, after all: making her prey -- or the other player, in rare cases such as this in which the pawn turned out to be something darker hiding under a mask of what could be considered innocence, had it not been quite so cracked -- believe they had the power, when in reality, she was nursing the little trick up her sleeve, waiting for the exact moment to strike.

          It was serpentine of her, it was misleading of her, and it was, above all, strategic.

               But strategies were forever a variable, made to accommodate disturbances. 

     This was exactly what could be considered a disturbance. The moment he named his tribute, she had to admit that perhaps, the façade she had constructed around herself, the one that prevailed in the harshest of times, even when she was alone -- it cracked, just a bit, just a tiny little bit; inaudible, of course, and easily mended. Her eyes were... not easily replaceable, however, and there was a tiny purse to her lips when the pout disappeared, apprehension making itself known on the curve, evanescent after breaths counting seconds dwindled away into a small, almost sly smile. This was not dangerous -- not as dangerous as what she had gone through and survived. "Perhaps I don't know my place. Perhaps you don't know yours. Funny, ne, how humans can be so blinded~ Don't you agree, ne?"

                                              A queen knew her limitations.

               That was why when, confronted with this alternative, she did not falter. Her limits would not be passed -- how preposterous! She wasn't about to hand over her eyes, however -- not without some incentive. The familiar rush of adrenaline and pleasure derived from sick amusement dripped through her veins, darker than black and thicker than her blood, electrifying. "You're fond of my eyes, ne? I'm flattered," she began, slowly, drawling. Her smile never wavered, almost eerily attached to her ace -- this was interesting. Danger never failed to excite her, after all, and what was this but danger? Danger was toeing the fine line between safety and death, life and morbid destruction - life and death had a thousand different shades in between, and she was quite well versed in figuring them out.

     "There is one question that arises, though, ne," she continued, words lathered with honey with a touch uncharacteristically gentle, made to drip across poisonous amusement and blatant defiance, made to hide it under sweetness too rotting for anyone to stand except the woman herself. "What would happen if I don't do as you say, ne?" She blinked, eyelids fluttering, hiding the metallic irises of her eyes with each butterfly-wing beat. "Will you kill me? How rude that would be, ne. Not any way to treat a guest, at the very least~" She tilted her head, innocent and childlike in the way she regarded him, though her eyes were now half-lidded. "You forget, perhaps, Lucifer -- I am not helpless, ne. But curiosity," she said with a long-suffering sigh, her hand rising so the metallic eyes that were being bartered upon that very moment could inspect her painted nails, the delicate hands hiding power infinite. There were different sized of infinity, after all. " -- curiosity is a powerful influence. Call it curiosity which makes me ask you that, ne."

Confess something you've thought about me on anon

✂ the two &(♛)QUEENS ❜ —

She’s walking barefoot around her ice castle, delicate heels having long been kicked off to some corner, forgotten not even a minute after it was discarded. Her hair, once a platinum blonde and expertly weaved into a thick braid that rested over her shoulder is now pure white and in loose waves cascading down her back.

She’s tugging at the white locks now, hard.

Her frenzied fingers need something to do, something to clasp onto, and there is nothing in the castle but her, so they will pick and pull at that.

Her ice castle, once a flawless, breathtaking creation of pure blue, is now muddled with red and black, cracks scattered throughout. It is a painting with a tear in the middle of a canvas, the missing piece burned away.

                                           Elsa is a mess.

"You’re a mess," a voice to her left intoned.

The smile that crept on her face is sad and filled with irony. But of course he would voice aloud what she had just thought inside her head.

"I know," she croaked out her reply, turning around to face who just read her mind.

Alek is but one of the several snow creatures she’s created since learning she was capable of doing such a thing. He is not like Olaf or Marshmallow though. One was made in a moment of pure joy; the other in fear, but also love.

Alek, and all the other companions lurking in her castle, was made in a moment of pure desperation. He was made when the storm raged too hard, choking her, squeezing out the part of her that kept her sane.

                                    Kept her human.

He is a twisted thing with hollowed out eyes, misshapen body, and a voice that would send chills down her spine if only she was capable of feeling the cold.

                              He is the part of her everyone has.

           Always there to ridicule when others have praised.

                  Always there to destroy any self-confidence gained.

                        But always there to keep one grounded, lest he get blown away.

Her fingers are twitching already. She’s about to clasp her hands together when another voice sounds from the other side of the room.

"Someone’s coming!" it chimes, and this time the voice is high, sweet, but gives Elsa no more comfort than Alek’s grave tone.

Because there is someone coming to her. 

Someone has entered her castle. Someone is here. Someone has intruded upon her only safe domain.

The rage is there, swelling in her core. The castle around her shook and the walls groaned, reacting to her anger. She thought she had made it clear that everyone was to leave her alone. But apparently not, and now she’ll have to exhaust social skills she no longer possessed to try and drive away yet another being.

Feeling properly worked up, Elsa clenched her fists, straightened her spine, and prepared herself for what was to come.

     Perhaps it was curiosity that led her to cold, and perhaps it was something else of a darker nature that she was so often prone to delving into; however, cold was familiar -- cruel, but she was no stranger to being cruel; would she not be hypocritical if she said that? Oh, how lies fooled even the liars themselves in their mocking decadence, but no; she was not just a liar -- she was a queen, the piece which killed in the most beautiful disquiet, the piece which had a bloody past of rising to the top, the past no one spoke of, the past that was never seen as anything other than insignificant until the opposite end of the chessboard was breached

                                                                 {you are disposable --

                                                                                      i am ROYALTY}

     and red lay splattered across the pure black and white until it seeped through the cracks and claimed what was once unsullied as its own.

Rage and calm were of a synonymous nature; there was no room fora mistake, and if one was made then a sacrifice was hastily thrown in its place -- the cycle of madness was endless, but there was something sane in insanity and there was something insane in the mundane monochrome of what was considered normalcy, and she controlled both to an extent, which laid waste to everything but the grey area between black and white: were black and white not just a shade and a tint, nothing more? Oh, how pathetic humans could be when they believed in their significance~

     -- But everything had its complexities, and those were more than apparent when it come to this particular domain.

Ice reigned supreme, though betraying whatever imagination foretold about purity; no, purity was something untouched, and this was in essence sullied -- and realistic, perhaps, as well.

     Painted lips stretched in a mockery of a smile, undisguised delight apparent in the subtle curve. This was interesting -- something that caught her attention, at the very least: this broken fantasy of a castle warped until only the rotten was left to grow on the walls and the damned left to lurk in the shadows of a once-pulchritudinous prison.

     But there was no sign of abandon, no sign of the absence of life, and that was what truly struck her as interesting.

But, no matter - she was not here to mull over whether or not she would have to spray red over the already stained walls, red against a white canvas that should have been kept pristine.

A castle needed a queen, and of course, while she would not overthrow a throne without prompting (how rude that would be!), she would certainly want to check whether anyone still ruled here.

     Her thoughts were cut short when a small rumble -- barely audible, but significant nonetheless -- confirmed her thoughts of the castle being inhabited - even if by someone more likely than not broken and twisted like childhood dreams and fantasies so often were. The tiny tremor centering on her left was almost enough to send her balance a few notches towards imbalance -- ooh, had she been noticed, trespassing with a pleasant smile attached to her lips as she set the welcome mat aflame and tossed the ashes aside in blatant defiance of courtesy? 

     What fun.

                        -- Oh, but she was just another commoner here, was she not? How absolutely despicable of her to think otherwise~! Oh, yes, she would most certainly remember her place... here, anyway. The thought pushed a giggle from her throat as she turned and headed straight towards where the tremor had come from, her hand clutching a knife pulled out of its holster seconds before.

     Broken fragments of shattered fantasies would be crushed.

bloodlacedscythes has started to follow you.

      A god amongst men, he seemed. Unable to die, wielding powers that no one could explain or attain, his strength unparalleled to those of mortal men no matter how gifted they happened to be. Life was drained and reaped, never given, rarely spared. Like the divine, the very threads that wrapped around a person’s soul to give them life were coiled around his fingers. Without giving a second thought, with no repercussions, the reaper would sever the precious cords whispering of sweet melodies that promised vitality, health, and prosperity. Snap. And the corpse would rot beneath the earth, animals and insects feasting on a body that had been long forgotten. It was of no worry or woe. The world would spin on, not caring that one insignificant ant had fallen off the planet’s axis.

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collections that are raw as fuck ➝ rami kadi s/s 2013

    {s m i l e}

                 even when your teeth are red with blood.

I’m the 

    m   o   n   s   t   e   r 

you read about when you were just

             {a kid}

If you want to roleplay something send me a:

% - Angst @ - Smut $ - Fluff ! - Drama € - Horror © - Comedy ¤ - War ¿ - Spies Þ - Mystery Ð - Adventure ç - Crack Œ - Romance Ŧ - Thriller ƍ - Historical ƒ - Supernatural Ɯ - Fantasy ƕ - Science Fiction ȸ - Western Ǯ - College & - A combination of any two or more (please specify which ones)

Terry Pratchett, Sourcery

For all my roleplay partners:

Never hold your muse back. For real. If your muse wants to lash out at mine, or kiss mine, or tell mine a horrible secret, or slam mine against a wall — go for it. Don’t ever feel like I’ll get your reply and judge you or your muse. Your character has specific feelings, instincts, and desires, and if they want to do something, don’t hold them back. I want to roleplay with your muse in their entirety, the whole truth of your character, not a watered-down version. Never feel nervous — just let it happen as it happens, and it’ll all be great.