Hazbin/helluva Verse | L Fear No Evil; The Shadows Are Mine. So Is Your Life. - Tumblr Posts
Acid green eyes observed carefully, without a remark or a conclusion said out loud. So that's where the foolish bravery came from. If one had survived too many encounters with death, they were bound to be overconfident and careless. Yet still kept his mouth running; ah not for long now anyways.
“Nah, the usual way is a warning shot just grazing the skin covering the jugular. And even that is reseved for those who are stupid enough to not steer clear of me when asked.” she wondered when will his skin follow his clothing.
Those haunting eyes eagerly drunk up every little gesture, dark satisfaction at the first dent in the larger than life overconfidence.
“Ay, ay ayy cowboy” the entity clicked its tongue with twisted playfulness, taking a step forwards.
“Nobody told you the Wrath desert is full of monsters, little one?”
Everything was dead. No sounds of other animals penetrated the supernatural pitch black darkness; deathly quiet and still, except the grass drying and disappearing as the tendrils of her shadows sought reach. The woman's body contorted gracefully, acid green mixing with the abyss swirling her higher, at least twice her original height.
“Or you thought you're the worst hiding out of here?” despite her state, the silent destruction, her voice remained calm only just above a whisper
She might have taken it a little too far, judging how the imp was...destined to die after being in her presence for a prolonged time, let alone touching her cursed bullet. Still, she had warned him countless times. He refused to heed them and dug his own grave, happily lying into it by himself. So the shade stayed looming as a ghastly last warning: run home and hug the ones you love one last time while you're able.
deathshadowed:
“I just want to be fucking left alone to do my fucking job, why is it so hard to understand?!” long fingers ran through her bone white hair in aggravation; was this really a hard concept?
“I don’t owe you an answer. You don’t know shit about me, my experience or my life. You assumed I don’t even recognize a curve in the barrel for the fucks sake.”
“Maybe because I don’t need to eat and want to practice my aim instead?” Karma raised an eyebrow, trying to keep shadows, mist at bay along with her temper … which was quite new. Then she noticed him fiddling with the bullet. What in the everloving fuck.
“DON’T TOUCH THAT!” she didn’t remember the last time she actually yelled at someone, the acid green bullet reflexively caught after tossed, then dissolving into nothing at last
“I take you as suicidal because everything about this, about me screams death yet you’re still here.” Karma growled, why can’t her efforts to not kill him even accidentally be at least appreciated the smallest amount?! Surely the atmosphere was screaming danger yet he was still pushing, still purposely getting on her wrong side and she couldn’t understand how someone could be so blind.
And it all went up in smoke the second he opened his mouth again. “You doubted me first. And I am pissed because you don’t respect my boundaries or wishes to be left alone. You don’t have to know the reason to back off when asked.” an indeed deathly silence followed before a dangerously calm “So now you doubt my marksmanship too?” Alright then.
“Want to see why? Then fuckin’ watch.” the dam broke at last, her talent getting insulted was simply too much. A few moments to calm her mind, she didn’t shoot out of anger. No that would only open the door for mistakes and miscalculations.
“Villám.” steady and calm, a nod towards the mare as a sign to begin. The ebony horse’s shill neigh echoed through the desert, making the entrance guarding hog move at the sudden sound coming from too close.
Slightly obscured by a rock, not like it was protection. A step forward turned into a whirl, the woman a shadowy mass for a second during firing, the movement altering the bullet’s course to curve right behind the rock for the boar to drop dead. The sound followed a second later.
Without protection, the remaining took off again, crosshair eyes taking them in for an estimate. Wielding two guns clearly showed incredible ambidexterity, there wasn’t even a second pause in the surgical precision shots. The last one was getting a little too far, Karma grabbed the faulty rifle, from Villám thankfully the bolt closed on the round now, a few quick strides and a wrong position if the weapon was working flawlessly. Breathe in, one last adjustment with determination blazing in crosshair eye, breathe out. The scurry of legs coming to a permanent halt.
Satisfaction flooded her at the successful hunt, easing her mind.
“ ‘Fancy’ bullets or a faulty rifle; doesn’t matter. Because it ain’t those what are special but me. Because I am the best marksman ever lived and rode across afterlife.” and with the previous demonstration she hoped she proved that statement true.
“Now leave. My…powers cause everything and everyone to wither in my presence. I can’t control it and you will die- where the fuck is your shirt.”
How many times have Striker met people who said they were death incarnate?
How many have said they’d be destroying everyone who crosses them or try to fuck with them?
He’d lost count by now and with his constant brushes against death he’d lost some feeling to it, a sad reality when one is hunted nearly 24/7 and with a bounty that would get even the most loyal of allies to contemplate where to stick the knife. It was old hat for the cowboy that raw unkempt rage in others as a sign that they weren’t able to control their talent, yet it was a more curious and pleasant smile that crept over his face when he noticed how skilled she was.
He was about to answer her about -the best marksman- but he was cut short at her explanation about powers of withering, only to again when given the opportunity, having to look down at himself and notice his shirt had disintegrated itself off of him. “Oh… guess that rottin’ boar was a lot worse for mah clothin’…”
The scars littered his torso on full display, perhaps a sign that he was accustomed to death, and point to why he was less afraid than most common folk when facing someone who has the rage to spare and a gun to shoot.
The effects of the withering were lost on him, he knew what she said, but he couldn’t understand as she and her horse were okay, and he was not having any ill effects of it, though he’d give his pants a little touch. It felt rather old, even though he had just bought them last week.
“Maybe it’s best ah head back to mah saloon…” He’d place his hands on his belt, it was dry, and it was one of his favorite ones too, he’d keep it oiled and balmed every day almost, he had no idea what was going on until he’d see a part of it start to chip. He’d look around them, the grass did seem a bit drier around where she had been and cleared his throat before starting to take a few steps back, in fear of losing more clothing and ending up naked on the way home.
“If it’s ya doin’ consider this a friendly gesture of me not chargin’ ya for messin’ up my clothin’, but ya got a fancy way of tryin’ to get folk away from ya.” Acted as if the whole -get the fuck away from me- part was just friendly banter, but the ability to ruin his clothing had crossed a line.
He’d soon be on his way back home, having to get to Bombproof asap so he’d get to the tailors before closing, and of course, try to get news on this new lady that’d be roaming the Wrath Ring.
It was almost time for her to disappear back to the desert, to her home as she didn't belong. She couldn't especially with powers beyond her control. Still, she hoped the imp, Striker she had the misfortune or rather HE had that to meet her was buried properly. She didn't want to ride past his rotting body, sure that remorse would linger.
Villám was enjoying their last hours in this town, prancing around with imp children surrounding her, Karma couldn't help but smile at the display and the little show she put on even without her rider. She had returned an another child yesterday, the last one missing, thankfully only a few bruises and dehydration. Still, she couldn't exactly shake off the feeling that something was terribly off about this region as a whole.
She didn't have the heart to announce they were leaving. Not when both the children and her horse were so happy. Instead she jumped on the playful mare with fur shimmering like oil in the blaze of suns. She was an undisputed champion of marksmanship, but among her skills came second being an extraordinary esquetarian. It was ‘made easy’ by their bond and mutual trust, but her talent was undeniable.
Suddenly the delightfully clapping children were picked up one by one, rushed inside despite their protests of wanting to watch. Did she indeed overstay her welcome and...and...she didn't even dare to think about. But the locals weren't coming with pitchforks ready for her. A newcomer or a visitor, Lord Olroth decided to make an appearance, Karma had heard a few rumors, whispers about the Hellhorse breeder, or better said horse stealer.
“Would rather not.”
She declined firmly as she yanked her priceless hand out of his talons, before the Lord could bring it to his maw.
“And Karma does just fine.” ‘Lady Karma’; holy chirst.
"Extraordinary beauty." Olroth near purred, making Karma slightly guess the path she has chosen as the Lord hungrily eyed with Villám
“Not for sale. No matter the price.” she nearly snarled, a slight twitch of fingers, the familiar weight of her revolvers grounding.
"Well, there are other ways of gaining a prize like that besides money. How about a race then? Prove your mare deserves the Wrath-wide fame for being the fastest. Or is it simply born defective?" Olroth questioned smugly and Karma almost shot him dead on spot.
Villám neighed in displeasure at the insult, emerald flame eyes burning a little bit brighter at being talked about that, which seemed to amuse the Lord even further along with fueling his curiosity.
deathshadowed:
Acid green eyes observed carefully, without a remark or a conclusion said out loud. So that’s where the foolish bravery came from. If one had survived too many encounters with death, they were bound to be overconfident and careless. Yet still kept his mouth running; ah not for long now anyways.
“Nah, the usual way is a warning shot just grazing the skin covering the jugular. And even that is reseved for those who are stupid enough to not steer clear of me when asked.” she wondered when will his skin follow his clothing.
Those haunting eyes eagerly drunk up every little gesture, dark satisfaction at the first dent in the larger than life overconfidence.
“Ay, ay ayy cowboy” the entity clicked its tongue with twisted playfulness, taking a step forwards.
“Nobody told you the Wrath desert is full of monsters, little one?”
Everything was dead. No sounds of other animals penetrated the supernatural pitch black darkness; deathly quiet and still, except the grass drying and disappearing as the tendrils of her shadows sought reach. The woman’s body contorted gracefully, acid green mixing with the abyss swirling her higher, at least twice her original height.
“Or you thought you’re the worst hiding out of here?” despite her state, the silent destruction, her voice remained calm only just above a whisper
She might have taken it a little too far, judging how the imp was…destined to die after being in her presence for a prolonged time, let alone touching her cursed bullet. Still, she had warned him countless times. He refused to heed them and dug his own grave, happily lying into it by himself. So the shade stayed looming as a ghastly last warning: run home and hug the ones you love one last time while you’re able.
Striker had seen his fair share of powerful entities, the showboating, and flair were not lost on him, yet he was more focused on the fact his clothing was slowly drying out and falling off him to pay too much attention to the theatrics and show that Karma was putting on, and even though he had seen it and could hear her, he was determined not to react, acting as if he had gone deaf to her flexing the power of getting him nude without even touching him.
He was thankful that his pants stayed on to the saloon, though everything had been ruined, he had plenty of spare clothing at home so he was soon suited up after a nice shower to clean off whatever remained of the day. Trying to figure out how things had gone so terribly with the fabric, he’d head to the tailor before day’s end to get himself suited up once more, blaming it on some Terror of the Wastes that tried to tear into him.
It had been a week since the incident, and even though he didn’t mention who had caused him harm when he asked around for news about a lady named Karma, the information he got in turn was generally positive, even though no one knew anything about her. Tales of her saving kids, killing vermin, sorting out rustlers, she was like a proper robin hood with how nice she’d been to people, yet all he remembers is the aggressive lady with the weird bullets and the fact she had damaged his clothing.
Soon he’d stop asking and go on with his day, wandering around town to help around the local shops as he usually did, and while near the outskirts he’d hear some commotion. There had been talks about a fancy lord coming around, which was rare as the town didn’t bow to anyone besides Satan himself, so he’d not cared to go, having seen too many (and killed a lot more) so he had his fill.
But then someone talked about the -Lady Karma- dealing with them, and it had Striker stagger, more in amazement that the crazy lady had gotten such a title in such a short time.
Since it was during the middle of the day, and people knew usually how lords acted out, most would only be looking from afar or from the windows in their homes, yet the cowboy sauntered casually in the middle of the road up to where he could hear the noise, and soon spotting the pair with their horses, though he’d keep a casual walk as if not to look like he was going to engage them, only to observe as everyone else did.
💀
@sssardonian-ssserpent
“Personal reasons or just felt like it?”
A sympathetic glimmer in poison green eyes. But she knows better than to pity.
“I'm convinced the priest christening me wanted to drown me instead.” the marksman shrugged; it was in the past. And he was dead.
“I think you must have an idea of the reactions of me wearing men's clothes. Now not that bothered me, but when they declared my skills with revolvers are given by the devil; no, that was a different case.” the eerie mist surrounding the pale woman thickened at the memory
“And then there were the criminals running into churches all time as it's ‘the Lord's house’. ” well, she always gave a reminder that it's only four walls and a roof.
💀
@sssardonian-ssserpent
“Personal reasons or just felt like it?”
@infernal-dominion
Solitude and the desert were old, familiar friends. Made her feel like she belonged to the beautiful landscape even now when she was a wraith among vibrancy. Her decision to metaphorically bury her weapons -she would've never had gotten rid of her revolvers- and live a decent, quiet life failed spectacularly; a grim reminder of the words of an another feared gun for hire: she wasn't a savior but a killer.
Angeleyes was oh so right and Karma couldn't loathe the man for that. A sigh followed by a small smile, at least Villám was with her despite everything. Ivory fingers curled a tiny bit tighter into the mane of the sleek ebony horse, sometimes she decided to ignore tacks and rode in a way like the nomadic tribes her father told her about did.
It was strange to find a demon so deep in the endless horizon, furthermore alone; she was well aware the desert was also an unmarked burial ground, mostly for the undeserved. Gently steering Villám towards the figure, she had enough water to spare in case they managed to get utterly lost and she wasn't the type to simply ride past someone dying from thirst.
She came to a halt in front of the creature, ink black lips parting to offer help. The shadows whispered. Or she came to the conclusion that they did in lack of a better culprit. They have done so while she was alive too, bringing many unexplainable images, facts, faces along with a strong sense of deja vu. By now she learned to listen to them.
“Have we met before?”
Despite the confusion, her tone gentle as always, acid green eyes stared, overfilled with curiosity.
" Now I remember why I don't come here very often.. " ( From Sinner James )
The target never knows she's coming until the brief second till death kisses them on the forehead; except for this one. Thick moss green smoke slithered from her side, the bastard aimed at her horse, this was the only possible choice. At least the gun wasn't blessed.
Her seat was far back, cloaked even more so in shadows, only her piercing eyes glowing through the inky darkness everyone instinctively leaned away from. Distaste pulled at her black lips, not like she was nursing the most quality whiskey of her life but still. Something like that was a sure way to get yourself into an early second grave.
“Care to elaborate?”
The marksman spoke before the inevitable bar fight, already irritated by Pride's constant noise and by her injury. Oh plus the possibility of the client warning the victim, which resulted in her beloved horse almost getting shot.
Silent. Efficient. Quick. Without a trace. All of her skills that classed her above the rest of assassins, bounty hunters, hitmen; however they called themselves. With her...unique methods Karma managed to get to a level where she got to choose which job to take, driven by her moral compass: no petty skirmishes, unnecessary assassinations, nor final revenge by the abuser.
Her...business visits to Pride were just as quick as solving the problem she was hired to do. Villám insisted on snacking on flowers, no matter how Karma tried to convince the stubborn horse the otherwise. At least she managed to find a few which looked harmless instead about to bite her horse in return. Always on the lookout, while she could blend in Villám was quite a sight, drawing too much attention and not all of it was only curiosity.
The figure was familiar, something which Karma couldn't really say often, both her work and nature preventing her to see the same person twice.
“Ah, the fellow arsonist.”
She nodded in greeting, remembering the brief exchange with the snake demon.
“Don't want to bother, just thought it would be rude to not acknowledge. About to travel anyways.” the wraithlike gunslinger gestured at the book he's currently reading, she wouldn't like being disturbed when finally at peace for a while
Pentious’s tongue has been flicking in and out of his mouth on repeat for the past ten minutes. He isn’t staring off into the distance or anything. He’s just sitting there, reading a book. Tongue going in and out. In and out. Flickering and twitching and fluttering before slipping back in between his teeth, and then almost immediately flicking back out again. He doesn’t seem to notice.
Ghost of her old life lapped at her core, the whisper of adrenaline she deprived herself of, a show, a lasting impression in the people. A long interlocked gaze with Villám and the decision was made. The Lord dressed in leather jacket and chaps definitely a few extra pounds with all the...decoration; Karma decided to discard her own along with the saddle. The hellhorse had a similar built like Villám, seemed agile enough, she didn't take unnecessary risks or weights.
A race to the nearest town than back, her trust in her horse unwavering. Perfect harmony between the rider and the lightning fast creature, mutual bond spurred both of them unlike the Olroth excessive use of a riding crop. Whispered praises as moss green veins started to protrude slightly from the ashen skin, just a little more. The midnight mare seemed to fly at an almost impossible speed, the Lord already left in the cloud of dust.
Acidic green veins glowed brightly as the horse thundered through the finish line, taking a little time to fully come to a halt from such neckbreaking speed.
Her rider laughed with ecstasy from the thrill, a few circles of victory while waiting for the Lord's arrival. At some point she dismounted so fluidly while Villám was still basking in applause, her eyes eventually finding Striker's-
Genuine shock as he seemed to be well and actual relief despite how much of a headache he proved himself to be. She couldn't help but send a bright laugh in his direction as well.
Then a gunshot.
Karma whirled around to watch Olroth horse collapse dead into the dust while the Lord was still spitting every possible insult at the animal's corpse, his men creeping from corners, inns, her trained eyes spotted a few on rooftops as well.
"Take that horse and kill the bitch if she moves!!!" came the furious order from the fanged maw
No. She was past this. She changed her ways. Her life was peaceful. Two of them stood guard on either side of her with guns ready.
She worked hard for a secure life. Both for herself and Villám. Tremors shook her body but not her hands as a part she kept at bay fought to surface. It can't, she can't-
Villám's shrill neigh of fear echoed through the small town.
Two shots, yet they sounded as one, the ones at her side dropping dead in a second.
The demon woman wrestling with Villám's reins was the third one who perished; the ivory haired woman taking lives with the ease of breathing. From the corner of her eye she noticed one of the rooftop snipers lining up; with frightening accuracy the fourth body hit the dirt.
deathshadowed:
It was almost time for her to disappear back to the desert, to her home as she didn’t belong. She couldn’t especially with powers beyond her control. Still, she hoped the imp, Striker she had the misfortune or rather HE had that to meet her was buried properly. She didn’t want to ride past his rotting body, sure that remorse would linger.
Villám was enjoying their last hours in this town, prancing around with imp children surrounding her, Karma couldn’t help but smile at the display and the little show she put on even without her rider. She had returned an another child yesterday, the last one missing, thankfully only a few bruises and dehydration. Still, she couldn’t exactly shake off the feeling that something was terribly off about this region as a whole.
She didn’t have the heart to announce they were leaving. Not when both the children and her horse were so happy. Instead she jumped on the playful mare with fur shimmering like oil in the blaze of suns. She was an undisputed champion of marksmanship, but among her skills came second being an extraordinary esquetarian. It was ‘made easy’ by their bond and mutual trust, but her talent was undeniable.
Suddenly the delightfully clapping children were picked up one by one, rushed inside despite their protests of wanting to watch. Did she indeed overstay her welcome and…and…she didn’t even dare to think about. But the locals weren’t coming with pitchforks ready for her. A newcomer or a visitor, Lord Olroth decided to make an appearance, Karma had heard a few rumors, whispers about the Hellhorse breeder, or better said horse stealer.
“Would rather not.”
She declined firmly as she yanked her priceless hand out of his talons, before the Lord could bring it to his maw.
“And Karma does just fine.” ‘Lady Karma’; holy chirst.
“Extraordinary beauty.” Olroth near purred, making Karma slightly guess the path she has chosen as the Lord hungrily eyed with Villám
“Not for sale. No matter the price.” she nearly snarled, a slight twitch of fingers, the familiar weight of her revolvers grounding.
“Well, there are other ways of gaining a prize like that besides money. How about a race then? Prove your mare deserves the Wrath-wide fame for being the fastest. Or is it simply born defective?” Olroth questioned smugly and Karma almost shot him dead on spot.
Villám neighed in displeasure at the insult, emerald flame eyes burning a little bit brighter at being talked about that, which seemed to amuse the Lord even further along with fueling his curiosity.
The sight was interesting, to say the least, a lord he’d care less for than the dirt he walked on(At least the dirt did something like keep the ground from not being there, the royal did jack shit in Striker’s opinion). He’d post himself up nearby a general store and watch the whole scenario unfold.
He might have issues with Karma, but even he felt insulted when the lord questioned the horse’s qualities. It maybe scared of Striker, but from one rider to another, one does not mess with the horse, and here Striker wished he had his popcorn, ready to see the lady that was so eager to get him away that she threatened violence and said such terrible things to him, he was eager to see the lord get their just desserts, knowing for a fact with how they acted, Striker believed himself to have done way less deserving of a tongue lashing before, he waited patiently for the explosion.
“Me without my camera or snacks, this is gonna be one heck of a show!”
Cursed headcanon time!
Karma can't use anything to masturbate with because everything she inserts erodes before she's finished and she's stuck waiting for plastic and battery acid to break down completely.
It happens with both organic (aka, dicks, fingers, tongues) and artificial materials. She cannot control her passive decay, especially after she's fully back in the bounty hunter business. Objects erode, beings age if she's in their presence for long enough.
If something goes INSIDE the vicious power that already cannot be contained, the process is sped up significantly despite she does not want that.
Some beings are immune either by sheer fucking luck or that high level in power, or their power counter her passive. Otherwise...don't stick anything into her and expect to keep it.
"Am I....not suppose to be here?" From Rovéna, surprise me with which verse lmao
What could she say to that?
“Probably not, sweet child.” how old even was she? And why would she end up in Hell, to top it off in the wrong ring. Was Karma supposed to lead this sunshine to the slaughterhouse they called Pride?
“What's your name little one?” her voice calm and melodic, trying to keep the twinge of melancholy out of it. No use in frightening her even more.
The bringer of surprise was Villám who after a short inspection of the girl, nickered and rested her head on the newcomer, as if she had known her for ages.
“And uh, she's my horse.” Karma added with slight disbelief at the displayed behavior from the always careful creature
"You're a bounty hunter, are you not?" From Stella lmao
The ebony horse came to a halt, the rider turning towards the...Goetia demon. That could range from high profile assassination to petty skirmish because someone overdressed her at a party.
“For the right person, I am.”
Acid green eyes seemed to glow in the almost supernatural, thick darkness.
“Please state your business ma'am.” the wraith on the emerald flame eyed horse spoke, calm and measured. Status never scared her, more like she couldn't be bothered by it. Still, basic respect was given to everyone until they proved to be deserving a bullet instead.
The gentle caress made the ebony horse snort and nuzzle further into the now vibrant pink waves of hair, deciding that she liked the girl a lot. Karma's dormant heart twisted at the display, Villám was shy most of the times when meeting with new people, except if she felt something special about them that made her comfortable. What is she doing in hell?
The silent question surfaced again, she didn't act nor looked like deserving damnation. And how the bloody hell did she land in Wrath?
“Thank you.” a small smile at the compliment of her emerald eyed family
She's not going to take her to Pride. Innocence is lost or worse, sold in that place; not something she will allow to happen to this girl. The name caused a strange, strangled noise crawl from her throat, disbelief, utter surprise and confusion.
“WHAT in the FUCK-?”
The usually stoic woman started unblinking at a name she hasn't heard in a century and a half.
"Am I....not suppose to be here?" From Rovéna, surprise me with which verse lmao
What could she say to that?
“Probably not, sweet child.” how old even was she? And why would she end up in Hell, to top it off in the wrong ring. Was Karma supposed to lead this sunshine to the slaughterhouse they called Pride?
“What's your name little one?” her voice calm and melodic, trying to keep the twinge of melancholy out of it. No use in frightening her even more.
The bringer of surprise was Villám who after a short inspection of the girl, nickered and rested her head on the newcomer, as if she had known her for ages.
“And uh, she's my horse.” Karma added with slight disbelief at the displayed behavior from the always careful creature
🦒 ---- How does your muse feel about height? Do they like their height or are they ashamed of it?
🦘 ---- If they have kids, what type of parent is your muse? If not, what type of parent would your muse be?
🐙 ---- Is your muse a hugger? Do they enjoy physical affection whether it's platonic or romantic?
Headcanon prompts I like
🦒:
She's fine with her 5'9 not to mention she's almost always on her horse or on a train/rooftop.
💀: Sometimes it gets really frustrating but then she can always shadow morph her body to towering heights so there's that.
🐍: Again, fine with her height, both tall & short enough to execute her forged fighting style.
🦘:
Never really had time to even think about the concept of having children and probably would choose not to given by her lifestyle. It's the best for both her and the hypothetical child.
💀: With Death curse Gift full out and I think I've written that cursed headcanon, motherhood is entirely off the table. She's not capable of giving life only eroding or taking it. And she has tons of internalized trauma due to that.
🐍: Aside from that she literally adopted your Gwen, Hobie, Pavtir and Peni? Karma doesn't know whenever her reproductive organs are affected and if so, how much by the venom and she doesn't want to risk an unsafe pregnancy. What type of parent would she be? The 'if you ever GLANCE at my kids again I will murder you in your sleep.' type. The 'world is evil and sometimes to keep yourself safe you have to get your hands dirty' honest, no nonsense mindset. Always there, always helping however she can.
🐙:
Both base & 💀: She, given by her life and later her uncontrollable abilities is ridiculously touch starved and probably would crumble at the faintest positive touch. Yet she fears them, to not accidentally harm those who manage to get close.
🐍: Not used to it & always expecting harm to follow the contact. Craves genuine affection be it platonic or romantic and once someone is comfortable around her and vica versa, she's definitely a hugger. Plus often initiates contact because someone hug the traumatized snake damnit.
Your 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 … You aren’t even Ｈ Ｕ Ｍ Ａ Ｎ anymore… 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ?
“You are hopeless.”
Shadow morphing a few feet away because she needs to process this.
“Would you keep it in your pants while I have a small crisis?! Thank you.”
“....”
Well fuck
"Heheheh, four bingos huh? Ah knew ya were perfect" Also Striker "Hehehe, come here!"
“I said let me process because I can very much end destiny with a headshot. Respect my boundaries. Won't ask again.”
“....”
Well fuck
"Heheheh, four bingos huh? Ah knew ya were perfect" Also Striker "Hehehe, come here!"
The marksman stared in shock at the pristine target for practice, the gunshot deafening in her ears. Karma...missed. Something that has never happened in centuries.
Poison green eyes bore into the stone she'd struck instead while testing the rifle, an unfathomable, unexplainable violent coil rolling within her when she pulled the trigger. Karma has always felt hollow. Dead already before she perished. Yet now...something felt like moving inside her.
Her revolvers whispered, not one or two voices but hundreds. Souls shaped into deadly bullets writhed, beckoned her to abandon any other weapon and use what she has reaped. The gunslinger although startled, deep down she knew this day would edge nearer. How? She had absolutely no idea.
Glancing at the peaceful scenery of Wrath and she already could sense the amount of dead soon laying in sunwarmed soil. Within a second, she was already riding Villám to Pride, she needed to meet her cousin, despite the bad blood. A storm was coming.
“WHO THE BLOODY FUCK IS HOLLERING AND YOWLING AT NOT EVEN THE DAMNED ASS CRACK OF DAWN”