Posts by CHICAGOCRIMES

◞➳ ooc: its friday the 13th kiddos, this was a necessity 😔 🔪🔪 anyway uhh, tw for death / blood / gore / etc

in the midst of this dark, dark night with moon but an wink of ivory envisioned in sky beside twinkle, twinkle of stars bright, laughter is boundless. it comes dribbling forth like summer's rain, accompanied only by shouts of indignation and exclamations of joy. heavy lake waters pitted blacks deep and foreboding are broken beneath moon light sugared touches, a shine cast overhead inviting and the party sailing over its waves is loud, loud; music blares, pop waving over the ripples wild and undaunted as teenagers run loose and rampant in seige of spring break. clumps of forest, birch and pine trees surround them, drifting forward.

alcohol addled teenagers, booze labors their breaths and adrenaline of the party still runs rampant through veins. there's teasing, pushing, and dancing, yang passes by a group thats pretending to throw one of their friends overboard and off the large boat, laughing loudly at them as she goes. her mind is mush, her thoughts static and tongue thick and fuzzy within mouth. alcohol stains her teeth, theres echoes of it in the swell of her lips, and mouth is ripped open into a grin one could only ever describe as bearish. she's bad decisions and karmic undoings, a gas station princess with dark glass bottle a picked poison.

she mingles and weaves through the crowd, a deep joy gracing brown coffee eyes usually oh so bitter and accusatory. conversation struggles to find itself on her lips, her head it swirls and swirls and swirls. in all truths silvdf lined and pure, embittered black and blue, she's not sure what sentences have come and folded itself past the thick of her tongue. she finds that she doesnt care.

laughter spoils over her lips again, loud, loud, oh so loud and she makes her way toward a quieter part of the ship, her hand steadying itself along the walls. suddenly throat burns and mind roils. it's instantaneous, the woman falters and comes to hang over the railings, vomit stinging gullet as it passes. groaning while mood so cheery begins to sour, she lays there with cheek pressed against the cold, cold metal, the sounds of the party burning into white noise. it isn't until footsteps come from behind her, that she looks up. odd man swaddled in black, a mask eerie and grotesque, bug like. beatle? cockroach? she knows not what it is, but it hurts to look at it.she rears back, startled, a gasp hitching within throat but then it quickly dissolves into anger, indignant squeak; "holy fuhhh- fuckin'- jesus, dude! you scared th' shit out o' me." they tilt their head as she rambles, accusatory stare upon them. they say not a word back, merely observing her. creepy "whats up wit' th' mask anyway? this- iissh isnt a cost . . . costume party, is it?" she moves toward them in drunken fervor, her hand aiming to grab at the mask seated over their face but their hand is far more faster; it squeezes around the bone of her wrist, holding her in a hold knuckle white. yang jerks back, tries to, a swear enveloping breath and then her eyes catch glint of blade in the waning of moonlight and lanterns orange glow, slick black blade held within other hand, promising trouble. but yang, yang in her own drunken arrogance, spies the knife and merely raises brow in challenge. "what are you gonna do? sssss-shhtab me?" the drunken woman laughs, idiotic.

as answer, the knife goes deep, deep, deep into the muscle of chest without hesitation. shock lances through features just like the pain invades veins, icy hot and a scream wants to stutters itself on lips now stained crimson but never does. the blade rears back and comes down upon her again. and again. and again.

gurgling, she stumbles backwards in terror, she's bleeding and bleeding and bleeding, oh, oh, oh. surprise and shock leaves her stare bulging as she looks toward masked figure quiet, stoic, the blade bloody still drip, drip, dripping. the grotesque beatle eyes of his mask are but the very last thing she sees as balcony railing gives no support; yang goes toppling into the waves with a final, embittered splash. within moments, her fate is sealed

her body surfaces seconds later, blood pooling around golden locks and there she lays within lake water, the first of many to die.

the beetle masked man turns away, on to find next victim of night.

( someone will find her soon enough. )

◞➳ courtesy. it comes to them timidly at first and carefully, the first to find them cautious, wary even. "they actually wrote their name in th' dirt. hebe-" gurgle scream tears the rest of the words from her throat, manic creature sobbing and despairing lurching forward with tears and swears emblazened into his lips like holy prayer. unnerving. chicago takes half a step back, eyes jeweled lavender watching the creature writhe and sob with dear child clinging to him like white on a picket fence. and the other clan members barely bat an eye toward own member; a thousand red flags lift within her mind. what th' fuck is wrong wit' this place?

more come out of the woodwork, and then it's all happening so fast. sweet boughs of the gaia, this has somehow already turned into a stumbling shitshow and her and her patrol have barely uttered a damned word past own lips ambrosia cracked.

they tear into themselves, insults winding the tongues of ruiners savage and meltdowns come unraveling, oh pour souls they scream and cry a doings agony and chicagocrimes finds judgement lurking heavily within her thoughts like the crashing of a tidal wave. what a messy group, they can't even keep themselves together, can't even stop another from tearing each other apart. and she is not the sole creature to take note of this either.

how embarrassing. even the exiles are more cohesive than this.

liquidgold's words curl within her head through the fog gathering, entwining themselves along the rot and ruin and she has to fight herself from snorting aloud, ultimately agreeing with the shepherd. lavender eyes squint at the catsune in the brief flickers of exasperation.

dethronedking's words come coiling within her thoughts next as the creatures continie to bicker and unravel in self righteousness splintered and bloodied, his cautious and observant slew an echoed thrum behind the pulse of temples; this is the group that's taken over the thunderlands? she wonders how they could even manage such a feat, for now tension comes winding past and mutinous comes abroad, speakers for jace, speakers for nadine, she even hears ver's name pass over a few times. this truly does seem to stand a kingdom halved and split. she feels second hand shame from merely being within their presence, and there's a lash of her tail, only incentive towards irritation rising and anger already mottled.

they speak of weakness and of how all is fair, brimming with more hostility than the patrols even dared show them ( shouldn't they be the angry ones here? ) and lips pull into thinning line. here they stand before them now, somehow holding onto claims to power whereas they can't even keep own members muzzled, cannot even keep the conflict off of borders and away from prying eyes of so called fair game. it's hilarious almost. it's disgusting undeniably, the irony burning ever eternal right alongside their so called red god.

this is weakness.

she would have never allowed such a thing in her time.

"praise him," child terribly young comes forth, words weaving themselves into her throat permafrost and smug aura radiating within the cut of eyes glacier hearts.

even their own children are affected.

bitter, how bitter for chicago has always adored little dolls such as she, a mother who cares for constellation childs so dearly and tenderly. this one's innocent features are twisted however into a cruelty unbefitting of her still kitten face; with gnarled, rotted thought she draws the resemblance to own self many years ago and the thought stings.

( something's not right with her, that little midnight velvet girl. )

and then portal opens, very well like the one she'd seen fateful night. fur bristles along spine at once as forth steps a dog that looks unkempt, shackles of hell forged around ankles; child killer. hatred seethes, the face, the words, a memory burning as the disgusting bug opens its insect mouth. "you weren't there ta protect them, it's yer fault that we killed 'em." what kind o' twisty, warped psychological bullshit is that? excuses, excuses, they are all so pitiful coming from the mouth of this so called holy creature. this is a creature who took down child too young to protect themself, it killed a child. she wonders if it would still be able to speak so haughtily with a fiery hand slammed down its gullet, breaking teeth and singeing tongue.

"war with the sanctuary has no consequences."

a roll of lavender eyes is nearly irresistible, disbelieving laughter threatens to burn and itch up own throat but she keeps it all down. big words fer such a bug lipped bitch. she should have expected no less, and her tail will try to swipe along fireghost's side as they speak up, attempting to ease the stresses of this horribly idiotic conversation that leaves the other phantom to bristle and bare fangs.

thoughts run rampant, swishing within her mind, plotting, plotting, plotting downfalls as they argue and bicker, seem to ignore them for most part in favor of just snapping fangs about a religion and a topic they seem to all stand oh so delightfully split upon but collectively, it seems nothing will go in their favor.

war with the sanctuary has no consequences?

we could tell our allies o' their doins'. we could tell their allies o' their doins'. tell th' entire world. nowadays, who would stand alongside a group that harbors child killers? they might glance past their own baby blood stained paws with ease and without pain or care to flutter within the wickedness of the wind, but the rest of the world, working as the way it does now, grouping together oh so many times to save children frail and brittle boned and defenseless within the last few years, would not.

she doesnt care about their red god, she spat on its written scrolls and set flame to its shrine the morning after the discovery of the body. a god who lets children topple to ruin and torture to add to its disgusting skeleton army is no god in her eyes, merely a fable they've all given too much time to.

and it is here in this moment that she is reminded again why the woman never walked along the borders of anticlanners no matter how ruthless of a character she has grown to be, or the battles she's craved; she's killed out of necessity, out of protection, and even at times vengeance has haunted the curl of her thoughts.

this, however, is none of those things.

this is simply because they can, and the notion disgusts her.

in all truths black and white, its not an apology she seeks anyway; it's blood of the one at fault.

sanctuary has always stood as a neutral clan, not one paw balanced towards the efforts of valiant proclanners and not one entirely muddied by the costly savagery of anticlanners. eye for an eye, she feels inclined to say though in the end, she knows truthfully it will not come to death of the insect; at least, not now.

fair game, they toss the word this way, that way. she expected it, she knew they would, creatures too proud to look past own noses and egos enlarged and bloated. chicagocrimes forces herself to not roll her eyes; the sanctuary has came into their home many moons before, ran along these very lands to retrieve members stolen from them with hardly an echo of a struggle; and personally she doesn't want to hear them rant about not being able to protect their own, hypocritical creatures spewing nonsense when she knows they are no better. a gunmetal queen, million matriarch has confided to her before of many troubles warbound be it nights they slipped under sheets or during talk of war tactics as they mulled over a table of ideas to throw off exiler scum. she knows at least a little bit of their doings. chica isnt a woman left completely in the dark of this group's affairs in part due to that, and it's not as if no one knows of the war they raged with the exilers, demanding children returned themselves, screaming for justice when harm came upon them, and waging raids to retrieve members that they themselves had " misplaced ".

natural selection at its finest, they would say. a weak choice of words, regurgitated over and over and over again, sometimes she wonders if they even know what it means.

( the dead girl would have scoffed; in the end, these are all sumarized as but hairbrained excuses that in all reality excuses nothing. blood still weighs upon their hands, sacrificial lamb is still a baby being nailed down, it is still a young life that they snuffed out. actions come with consequences, they of all creatures should know this. )

and there it is, the threats finally surge. a little canine with fidgety bones and a stare so daring she wants to rip it right off, hot white claws tearing skin, the image burning into heavy mind.

lips peel into a snarl as she eyes him, heat rising up to claim bones and veins, she stands there boiling. he needs to sit down, to sit down an' muzzle him self before i decide ta go an' fuckin' lose it. thoughts swirl, she's taken on a defensive stance as expected, lavender eyes glaring coldly, coldly upon creature who's mouth knows no bounds; let him try something, anything; she'll have his throat in her jaws before another breath could be taken. she's set flames to lands before and melted the flesh to very bones once white now charred off of several who stood in way of the corpse of a queen, and she will do it again without hesitation, if this situation continues to escalate. she's always been a violent woman, and very little about this scene deters those temptations now. she exhales in a faint effort to calm self some as liquidgold speaks, an eddy of ember and thinning smoke weaves past nostrils as anger simmers.

her shepherd holds more patience than she will ever cling to, they rise over all comments with but flick of their tail. admirable trait, attempting peace or somewhat decent discussion to rise out of whatever this mess has become.

and then, finally. someone willing to play a mediator of some sorts. this must be nadine, she assumes. apology burns her tongue and simpers along lips waxed cherry crush, a horned queen. has she seen her before? the solaris crowning, perhaps? familiarity tugs at chicagocrimes all while the other speaks, but she can never place where she saw the face. words don't bruise past lips, anything threatening to boil falters as some sort of tense silence drawls out, liquid's request met with pause. hush, hush, the " adults " are talking now, blood red queen and humbled shepherd forged angel gates.liquid is the speaker of the sanctuary, they agreed upon that as they came to the sands, and watching them navigate through these messy currents only further proves they had been well picked to take up the mantle alongside jailbreak. she merely looses a soft sigh, tail tip flicking idly as the seconds pass and some ruiners even take their leave.

- god sorry if this is all over the place, ninja'd several times over ahshdjd ;w;

◞➳ emotionless snap of a voice, the words drawl a racing of fear white hot up the dead girl's spine and her eyes glance away from the character she's ran into to look instead toward phantomly creature, devoid of emotions that weigh down own woman so heavily, their heart entwined with that of a glacier. her lips trembles as she stares their way, her face fanning itself with a rising heat as throat twists self into knots upon knots as she cowers there, berated just as she had feared to be.

she starts to fumble, her voice wavering and losing more and more whatever pitiful power tried to curl itself into her vocals. "i- 'm- 'm so-so-sorrryyy," oh. oh. oh, chest heaves, breaths grow terribly short.

the woman bursts into tears on the spot, ugly whimpers that quickly form into poor wails.

- lies & slander, snaps a picture of ur writing & hangs it up on my fridge

◞➳ i also,,, dont play animal crossing so any faceclaim ideas would be great ;0;

◞➳ mathilda,,,, im in love. thats gonna be chica's fc, thank u for the recs!! ;0;

◞➳ curious conversations unfolding alongside the whisperings of the winds, tainting the fae touched lands all unwinding with tension and amply spiritbound. she can't quite make sense of the words being spoken as the murmurs caress shell of tufted ears but in the end, she remains ever in the dark as they speak. it's only natural that forth steps the dead girl, forged embers and woven iron, intent to find whats drawn own meadowland spirits into such a peculiar state.

its a child.

small kitten ears, little puffball frame and voice a high pitched joy curving over ears, she knows this to be true before she even reaches the patrol, though steps do quicken a bit. a dear darling woven from the depths of the cosmos, the nebula scraped between teeth and the stardust embedded into fingertips, he's the dark of the moon with a smile vivid as sun rays and voice undaunted joy. chicagocrimes feels heart begin to melt and puddle as she moves to stand beside liquidgold. eyes of sugar plum have plummeted into softened edges, and all should know that the dead girl oh, she loves the little dolls dearly so, adores them to ends of very earth.

but this one has been hurt.

face marred, swath of eye gone, skin unveiled an ugly pink that makes own flesh crawl. horror pulses, anger thrums. who hurt you, little one? he speaks still with no tremor to voice, a brave little creature, scars entwined into flesh yet laughter comes pouring past as but a summer's sweet rain. it's admireable, "name's chicagocrimes fazbear. if you want a tour, or need any help little one, jus' ask me."

◞➳ compliment the user above you. its exactly as it says on the tin and!! i wanna get even more good feelings up in this place. i'll start us off !

in general, i am absolutely and utterly in love with this community. i've been here for,,, ever maybe lol, but! the sanctuary has always just been really welcoming and an all around fun place for me and you all only enforce / confirm my thoughts bout it. i'm absolutely in love with every character that comes this way, and you all, the roleplayers behind them, are all so sweet and funny?? everyone's writing is always a treat to read, i love the dynamics each character has, i love looking at any post that enters my feed, and i just ahh, i love you guys!!

stares into the camera like i'm on the office

◞➳ ANASKDDKDMS

cradles ur head

◞➳ slow and tender day, her walk along the little village flowering and content is peaceful. chit chat comes buzzing over tufts of ears at pace thoughtful, a low thrum of white noise her thoughts indulge in. laughter isn't so much a rarity any longer, clanmates chuckles linger over mind and the fluttering of a wisp now and then, slinking heavenbound and flashing lights greens or purples, makes her day even that much kinder, far more easy. the sanctuary has always had that kind of air around it, mystical meadows a strange and airy place with whispers of the dead ghosting along shell of ears.

despite tensions coming undone and anger sifting through veins of many, the dramas that have been played out and expanded upon within past days don't reach her brain just yet. sanctuarians, though cautious, though wary, still refuse to let that other clan and its sinister awakenings deter them from making best of own lives. pride swells at the thought, she wishes she herself could loosen up as much as them. though too sleepy mind can't bring itself to wrap around that bundle of nerves, now; the day is young, and exhaustion stains her gaze.

there's a scrabble of claws, an echo along the hallowed trunk of gaia wood that catches attention of the dead girl's mind all rotted and ruined. exhale of ember dusted breaths, her head turns— and fluffy kitten weight launches itself against her flank, a silvery sparking bullet gunning her down. shock laces its way across her features cut candle ambers and cinnamon creams as another breath is let loose. however, as thoughts come to register the offender to be a child, concern is what winds along her chest next, the woman moving toward little starshine girl with brows furrowed. "i think you bumped into me there, lil one." another breath, her words come forth like boots on gravel, the splinter of pine trees snapped under unrelenting maelstrom, and a raspy toneage layers vocals. "but 'm sorry, anyway." half a smile frames curve of ambrosia stained lips as she draws closer, a paw extending itself toward the other in an offer to get her back on own feet. children, oh little children, how she adores them all just so, little dolls and dears forged of cosmo dusts and ocean breezes and forest murmurs. "are you hurt anywhere else besides yer nose?"

- it all reads just fine, dw! and!! i love timekit so far, ahh

◞➳ meetings are usually a greying affair, timeless and mundane, habitual, expected by the members of the clans. it lacks grandeur azure, shock and awe nonexistent in its foldings, only grim thoughts or perhaps even trickles of pride, of excitement when one's name is announced. she imagines having that light, so many moons ago, a young dead girl rising through all the ranks with ease, wide summer's rain grin stretching kitten face and ego ballooning with each murmur of prey unfolding acrross tufted ears.

now as she approaches however, it is with reserved power embedded into each crackle of step and a hard stare. her thoughts toil over the events of this week, tragedies turning on a flick of silvery dime, horrors lurking behind eyelids. her eyes lift toward the gaia before she can help it, a faint dread whittling itself into her flesh; will the lake waning blood red moons destroy very heart of religion? terrifying thought.

and the ruins . . . lips bend into snarl some as peace talks come forth. angry, violent woman borne fiery furies and gnashing tongues, the brunt of war costly but memorable enflames own thoughts. she'd rather skip all attempts for peace with a clan already divided heavily and seemingly oh so unwilling to cooperate. she'd rather they try and take that bug of a priestess' skull now, than wait for a conclusion that, in her mind, seems to not get them anywhere. one leader willing to apologize behalf of the death, but seemingly neither willing to punish the child killer . . . unacceptable.

her ears twitch as the consonants of own name, chicagocrimes, find themselves crackling along liquidgold's mouth. ancient . . . another title tacked to the brunt of her name? pride flutters in, but only faintly; sugar plum eyes swirling with galactical stardust and cosmo bits, narrow. are they callin' me old? those sons o' bitches. both amusement and even the echoes of offense come to curl along her amber cut features, the dead girl shooting brows skyward as she eyes the two shepherds, but words fail her for the moment.

◞➳ naughtythotty has logged on

naughtythotty: tired af but 👀 are u ready to lose it spirit

naughtythotty: are u abt to go fuckin wild

naughtythotty: absolute madman

naughtythotty: can i come with

◞➳ she's moments behind spiritline and while he stands with wide smile curving lips and something boyish tugging at strands of heart, chicago feels only murmurs of dread. funeral still a stain within rot of mind, to find little doll, liquidgold's own daughter no less, all by lonesome merely makes chest tight, tight. she'd hate to see another little one drenched in wine and reeking death, all in the name of their fake god. her steps pick up the moment she aees little kitten ears and hears tiny, pitchy voice curl along skull, concern evident in line of brows as she draws near. "why are you out o' camp by yerself?" hard frown curves lips thin and bruised, her voice comes a splintering pine tree, the lizards scuttling off into icy hot waters ignored entirely in face of a matter far more pressing. scolding, scolding, she's a mother slipping into fretting habits familiar and well versed. "you heard what yer mama said; ya can't be out alone."

◞➳ naughtythotty: oh hell y e a h

naughtythotty: its a murder party jack im sure we can

◞➳ invitation further into the desert, hope for a quieter place where the snarled, combatative opinions of others fade to back drop is certainly enticing. a setting where this all can go over somewhat smoothly sounds utterly delightful. blessed gaia, it's an honest relief to be met with such level-headedness now compared to before.

and yet— suspicion still lingers, the mind of a dead girl paranoid.

drawing them further into desert promises trouble unless they bring bulk of their patrol along but then again . . . she doesn't want to leave their home unprotected any longer, with exilers and brigadiers on either side of the lulling meadows, and these ruiners split divided.

impulse decides, a quick thought; any trouble here, she's almost sure they could remove themselves from it, they seemed more intent to belittle one another rather than them, after all. dismissiveness suddenly wages within bones and floods veins laced lilac blues now white hot, the corpse of a queen raises her head to look back toward fireghost, outspoken phantom with lilac flame embroidered into their flesh, and zephyr, flightless tempest who stayed silent through all the entirety of this madness (she briefly wonders where his thoughts are); there's a jerk of chin, a flick of tail tip as in the quiet order of the reigning nymph all flame and bone, she tells them to turn back and go home. protective measures taken in light of . . . what they've seen today. the idea of the sanctuary being without presence of either nymph or their shepherds any longer already spells trouble, especially with how the crowd afore her behaves; she'd rather some creatures with high positions or a rank of some sort be placed close to the meadowlands as the trio handles this dilemma. liquidgold or jailbreak will inform them all of what's been spoken come the next meeting just as expected, when time has slipped and beaded past fingers without ever giving pause.

chicagocrimes aims to slightly brush up against liquidgold as she moves forward with the invitation still fresh upon a rotted mind, ever undaunted. sugar plum eyes lift to meet theirs in but a brief second as she passes by, several emotions displayed in a single shot; pointed gaze, exasperation lines lavender moons, fire burns for she is oh so still very angry, but now a strand of contentment entwines the fury, a flush of exhausted relief; she's proud of them. it fades quickly however, only a split moment undeserved by the eyes of majority that are present, and returns to former hard stare as she looks back toward the retreating leaders, king and queen sat upon a throne of splitting bone and bloodied knuckles. she moves past the crowd still gathered swiftfully, purpose stained in step, a woman tougher than any backcountry winter. "we're right behind ya," splintering pine, her voice comes easily, a tuneless hum barrelled in rotted throat.

now the real challenge presents itself; discussions of diplomacy and politics.

- a thread would be lovely, tysm!! could jailbreak, liquidgold & myself be @'d when its made, please? </3

◞➳ ooc: tagging this as controversial just to be safe; mention of death and intrusive thoughts, the start of a meltdown, and self harm abound. this is a closed oneshot because chica tries to avoid situations where she comes undone in the face of her home as often as she possibly can! she is the type of woman to try and handle her more tender / fragile emotions away from the public eye. anyway i realized that the ruins drama could open up to some potential / further take chica to the end game i've planned with her since im stinky and i feel like i derailed my own plot a little bit oop. 

the child lingers. her thoughts try to pull away from the scene, unwilling to let the horrors of that night and the morning following pollute her so but— its an impossibility. disgust towards the ruins and their doings lingers within mind, a silent hatred leaving rage to come and seethe itself into the itch of veins laced baby blues. savages horrible and vile, there stood many things she never could see when it came to their ways, but the murder of a child . . . absolutely unacceptable, and all for a so called god that bays for their blood? even worse so. any harm to come to those darling boys and girls indebted constellation dust and galactical cosmos always riles her. she's a woman motherly, a dead girl who died too young and knows, just knows how easy it is for them to become trapped and wither away into nothing. the world is cruel and its inhabitants sinister; and children, poor little youths do not come to know this right away, making them most vulnerable.

theres a shake of her head, lips tugging into a deep frown and she moves to stand. from safety of her own cabin she watches, through the english ivy vine curtains and the large split opening within the gaia tree, the scene before her. as the sun draws low, the watercolored sky diluted into ambers warm, springtime afternoons. so beautiful, she thinks. and then these horrible thoughts invade her skull rotted and ruined.

what if thats what happened to winterhymn?

oh. oh. oh.

her limbs start to shake, a choked gasp writhing past throat. the thought, it burns into her mind and she can't help it, images of the child plasters itself into mind but altered now.

the ceremony set out in dead of starry night, the moon a voidless, hallowed black obstacle, itd light absent. the only warming light that flickers orange, red, yellow wavers from slender candles all crimson stained and red endless. scripts of nonsensical words preached to a faceless bug lipped being who only finds power when worship praises him and blood stains his name rotted. a sightless monster towering over kitten build but its fur is creamy white and his eyes are seafoam green. his lips usually pressed into smiles exhausted but summer's rain ever so now folded into a gaping, still, open mouthed frown. stiff, too stiff and drenched with their damning wine— chicago rears away from the window, breaths come short and shorter, terror palpable, sweat glistening along body suddenly so, so hot. boiling.

a thought whispers, pleading with her, trying to force her away from the horror that comes to grip her, heavy mourning coiling around her thoughts and choking, choking all breath from own ambrosia kissed lips ; don't be like this, don't no. no, please . . .

she ignores it.

would he have screamed? would he have called out to her? his imagined wails curl at her, they claw and sink into skin, splitting at the flesh so lakes blood red boil and brim and seep. grief has her in its nasty clutches, its tearing her apart, oh, oh—

stop. stop. STOP.

baseless accusations, there's no proof here to be found, just her imagination cruel and terrible and aching. but her mind persists, terrorizes her and she looses breath exhaled embers and shaken, she—

her claws drag against base of skull as fangs tear into lip with more venom than ever should.

instantaneous; blood spurts and the pain burns, splintering white hot madness played along lips, but thoughts cease, hazeyed white noise now in face of hurt. she cradles her jaw as heavy breaths scrape past lips and tears slip down feathered cheeks silently crimson rivers billowing over lips and staining fingers amber and cream. she stares blankly ahead, coppery metallic scent staining nostrols and ghosting throat.

clarity rings moments after, a gentled balm upon the torture her soul endures only too much.

she hasn't forgotten her promise. she hasn't given up on him.

she is going to find her son.

she's going to bring him back.

soon.

◞➳ - this takes place almost immediately after this thread, but don't feel pressured to read it!

blood pools over curve of lip. an aching sting moreso than she's ever willed teeth to give. worrying away at lip, to nip at it . . . a habit used to steady self, the warm gush of copper that follows entwining a reset of sorts into the folds of her swamped mind. this time however, her teeth pushed too far and bloodied hand moves away from own mouth to instead push open door once all of her episode disastrous, her falling apart so spectacularly and horrendously, comes to an end. she's still light headed as she finds herself on her paws but the crimson is staining and dribbling all along her floors now, obviously unwilling to cease its flow no matter what she's done for it; she needs the opinion of another, requires aid. the tear tracks linger no longer but eyes dazzled the sharpest of sugared plums are still lined red, something she'll allow slip through in favor of the injury done by stupid, pointed fangs.

chicago shuffles out of own home with ambrosia lip bloodied and bruised. sun is stil setting, orange glow gilding her form already amber into tendrils of striped flame. passerbys, her gaze glances back and forth between those present, wandering creatures who havent yet taken note of her appearance. she clears her throat after a few moments and the dead girl looks almost a little lost, as the words find purchase in her throat rotted; "oi, i need some uh . . . help 'ere." dizzy lull in voice, she doesnt notice it.

◞➳ "hit me up, potty mouth." the woman calls out, exhaustion a faint note entwined into voice, amusement far more broad. swears lined his words, drawing brows to shoot heavenward slightly as forth she steps.

- give me a prompt please bby! </3