Hazbin/helluva Verse | L Fear No Evil; The Shadows Are Mine. So Is Your Life. - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

Lil help in deciding: Rozália's and Karma's damage are unavoidable, because they don't have any control over it (Rozy only can turn the heat down to a 'manageable' level) nor can the injuries be fixed.

Cindy, while having near perfect control she's still a galactic terror and emotionally volatile.

Raia...is a violent, deceptive sociopath. It is entirely up to her whenever she chooses to chop the dick/finger/tongue clean off for her own amusement.

𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫. Ṣ̸̀o̷̖̒ul̴̖̃s̴n̶̔at̸c̴̍h̵̥͝e̸̾r.̷̺̑

𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝐨𝐫 𝕯𝖆𝖒𝖓𝖊𝖉; D̵̰̘͗͐e̸͚͑͆ȃ̶̆͐̆t̵̀̐̎ḩ̴̨̬̀ 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫

+𝟏𝟖 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐎𝐂 & 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲, 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦, 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥-𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐯𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞; 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭.

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧: death personified, self exile in order to protect others, effects of solitude, a past that was left behind but resurfaced viciously, tremendous amount of power and potential purposely kept locked away, yet an another Véghváry who has no idea she's been cursed, wicked great marksmanship, buried six feet under but the coffin is already empty, unique way of dealing with souls, the neutral harbinger, the lone rider, swift justice

♡ /↻ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭

𝓓𝓪𝓶𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓙𝓪𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮

As her cousin would say, that's a fucking war declaration.

@metaladam

𝕍𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕤

Alternative modern verse/Cryptid Ghost Hunter

After death/Hazbin-Helluva

Modern verse

Spiderverse ➡ @venomtorn

Apocalypse

Mafia

“Just...”

“In my day three shots meant three bodies.”

@deathshadowed

"One does the job, two makes a point, and the third is just for fun!"

“Not enough targets? In Hell ? Surely you didn't kill all of them because my list is still full. Too dangerous to take on gangs, little poser? Your eye is only good to spot a curved rifle.” a hiss after the statement, of course she remembers. Of course she isn't planning to let go. Unless a genuine apology.

“Besides, even in my human prime I didn't even get out of bed for less than $3000. And that, darlin', in the 1800s was a lot.”

“Just...”

“In my day three shots meant three bodies.”

She stood her ground upon approach, even taking a step forward herself; steel heeled boots just as intimidating regarding sound as they were. Gaze returned with the same intensity with a secret underlying knowledge of what could she inflict if she wanted to. Start of something electric tingled at the bottom of her spine, she couldn't remember the last time she felt a similar spark.

It was a fair question, indeed it was a lot. And she had earned even more, especially if it was a gang situation.

“Y'know how women are. Spent it on clothes. On quality grains for my horse. Sometimes a saloon which happened to have a bath.” the ivory haired hunter shrugged nonchalantly, poison eyes flicking towards the imp child in torn clothes Villám was currently playing with

“And some always needed it more than I did.” a thin veiled admission that she gave the remaining away

A surprised chuckle upon identifying the source of the sound, no wonder Villám is uneasy around him. “You're a hybrid. Knew you had other blood besides imp.” eyes narrowed at the snake, for now on the fence whenever was that an insult again or an innuendo hidden paired with the look he has been giving her and she couldn't shake off the feeling of meeting him before, but...that was impossible-

A more subtle calculative gaze measuring her with clear interest and intent. Sharp eyes aren't as golden but an undescribable brown shade like whiskey in sunlight. Antagonizing bordering on courting. The feeling of being alive in the rawest meaning. Sleek, well built frame and couldn't have sat nor stood normally even if his life depended on it. Back and forth banter; a dangerous game with a dangerous man. Strong, sure hands' bruising grip or feather caress, whichever she needed, craved at that night. Lazy but steady heartbeat. A so sure smirk sometimes softening into a rare, genuine smile with radiant Angel Eyes.

A primal, pained shout -a few moments after registering as her own voice- as something in her ribcage moved, more precisely: beat. Her heart has stopped since she perished, leaving her aching and hollow, yet the long dead muscle gave one agonizing, reverberating beat. As if she's been shot. Hands instinctively clutched the now silent spot, one hand slowly pried away and looked at in horror of what just transpired.

“Conversation over.”

Authority mixed with the tremor of terror and freshly unearthed grief; of course she lived to lose him too. And she had absolutely no desire to share any of it. Showing weakness was already bad enough, but there also were other questions which she will never get the answer to

“Villám, gyere!” (Villám, come!) Karma called for the oil black horse with urgency, the urge to disappear for years in true Wraith of Wrath fashion has never been a more tempting thought

“Not enough targets? In Hell ? Surely you didn't kill all of them because my list is still full. Too dangerous to take on gangs, little poser? Your eye is only good to spot a curved rifle.” a hiss after the statement, of course she remembers. Of course she isn't planning to let go. Unless a genuine apology.

“Besides, even in my human prime I didn't even get out of bed for less than $3000. And that, darlin', in the 1800s was a lot.”

An airy laugh carried by breeze, or rather by shadow.

“No no Cowboy, I'm talking about criminals.” she whispered into his right ear, the smirk evident in her voice before her body turned into seafoam mist and whirled to his left side

“You're talking about creeps, some asshole who flashed the florist lady, an unlucky bastard caught in the wrong woman, some son of a bitch trying something with the wrong daughter.”

“The real deal, now those end up pissing themselves in the final moments instead of an getting erect. At least when I deal with the problem.”

@deathshadowed asked:

“If that's a problem, something is fundamentally wrong with your... technique and approach.”

“But after all, I understand. I truly do; someone has to catch the creeps too. As the bigger game ismine. Even with a curve in the rifle's barrel.”

"How adorable, you think only the lower ones are creeps? You must not have gone after Royals or Overlords then. Careful, your inexperience is showing~." Striker chirping at her, teasingly.

If you think you could beat this woman in a quickdraw & accuracy in any of her verses;

I have news for you.

“I like this look on ya.” voice thick with satisfaction and heavy with something she couldn't quite describe. Sadism? Desire?

“The currency was mentioned, assassin. Getting a little scattered with all the contracts?” she stabbed oh so melodically and with a hint of cruelty- where does it keep coming from? She was no longer like this, not the way she used to lead dozens, hundreds into the death of their own ego with the right words and actions at the perfect time.

“Ah so we went from Creeps, Criminals to Creatures; congratulations.” ink lips chuckled while she listened; of course she did

Impressive profile so far, proving how the mighty can fall when they meet with someone both skilled and equipped. She wasn't going to deny that. Although Karma didn't feel talkative enough about her work both past and present, how her touch decayed even astral feathers. However the first one mentioned refused to leave her mind.

“Hold the dick measuring contest for a few minutes, I'm curious and want to see something. No, it won't hurt.” Karma refused to elaborate further, their shadows already overlapping. Green vanished from her eyes, leaving behind a gently swirling cloud gray color

Rot. Everywhere. Devoid of life, the ground is also dead, decomposing. Air thick with something ancient and dangerous. The decay feeding a single monolith soaked in old, familiar curse. Bones of the unfortunate thinking about shelter or attempting to end the reign of unseen terror. It was following him now closely, looming over him from behind, hiding in plain slight, staying within reach. A blinding flash but it was only a ruse. Death was here, more suffocating than ever. Too many eyes staring, piercing through soul and hungry, famished. A life saving reflex, each holy bullet finding a damned soul in the cluster of them. Mock retreat. Blessed energy fighting with all consuming decay but slowly overcame, snuffed out. A watch, a medallion gone from the cursed ground, picked up by gloved hands. Nothing changed in the atmosphere nor about the remains of once was a forest. A spin back to the heart of the abyss; all is connected. Eyes and a grin. Aged, ragged brown hair with bone white strands. Eyes staring right at her-

“What the fuck was that” her voice more winded than planned; why did she ask when she knew and felt. Karma being thrown out of a memory has never happened before, nor did it ever show something the other didn't see. And it would've been impossible for him to not notice. Leaving the only possibility that it knew Karma was watching.

“Our shadows overlap. When that happens I can look into memories; only see what you saw, don't feel what you did, don't know what you thought. Just look.” she explained that part hurriedly and not giving a fuck about how intrusive it was to do so without asking

“The dead forest. That's not over.” was she horrified because she recognized her powers or rather, what would happen if she let it run rampant and free as it wanted to since her death? Yet he was immune.

“The watch. You still have it. That's why my passive powers don't hurt you. You carry death in your fucking pocket you fool.”

One mystery solved in a way that raised thousand more questions and just as many concerns.

“Where is that place. I was thrown out of the past when that thing looked at me. At the end when you turned back to the building. I need- I have to go there.”

An airy laugh carried by breeze, or rather by shadow.

“No no Cowboy, I'm talking about criminals.” she whispered into his right ear, the smirk evident in her voice before her body turned into seafoam mist and whirled to his left side

“You're talking about creeps, some asshole who flashed the florist lady, an unlucky bastard caught in the wrong woman, some son of a bitch trying something with the wrong daughter.”

“The real deal, now those end up pissing themselves in the final moments instead of an getting erect. At least when I deal with the problem.”

Regarding Pride & sexualities as it reads from the snippet of an ask: Karma is quite clueless about the thing. I mean she is aware of being attracted to the same sex or both is a thing, along with trans people. Asexual, demisexual (which she actually IS in the Hazbin & modern cryptid verse) etc is lost on her along with every one of it having a specific color theme

Basically it goes with Karma picking a color combination that matches with her outfit & somebody with the same identity as the pin goes “Oh so you're aromantic too! Don't worry you're totally valid.” while she's internally like ‘I'm a w hat. ’

“I was actually thinking about target practice” it was only a half joke

The atmosphere somber and calm, a combination never thought possible between them since they crossed paths. For some reason, Karma wanted to preserve it. Let it linger a little longer. Silence was something she was perhaps too familiar with, more than content with letting him talk.

“I don't and even if I wanted to, can't put you in a box. Maybe there isn't a...large one for you but more smaller ones. Don't think that's a bad thing.” Karma said carefully, taking into account all that was said, the actual meaning of the celebration. No wonder he felt this way.

Society's judgments were also among the things she never understood and didn't even want to. So feeble, fleeting ways to waste already short lives.

“I think-” maybe she shouldn't. But...he opened up too, genuinely.

“I think I loved a man once.” she needed to sit for this, the admission already feeling like a raw wound further deepened

“It wasn't like in the tales, he wasn't a good man, it wasn't even supposed to happen and I never...never said it to him. Of course neither did he to me.” a shaky intake of breath, ivory strands of hair pushed back perhaps a bit too aggressively “Yet he made me feel like no one could. And I killed him.”

Karma remembered that day so sharply, amost as if more than a century hadn't passed since. The fear. The rage. The silent then hysterical pleas. The vast emptiness after which never left.

“He came to me gravely wounded. How he tracked me in that state is still a mystery. He wanted- wanted me to do it. I couldn't, could've never but he forced my hand. Knew I wouldn't have done it in self defense, of course he knew. Then with his last strength smiled and said ‘Now you're able to kill anyone.’ ” she recited, shoulders tense as a bowstring pulled tight. And how right he was.

Karma didn't speak about how he knew her before she got her famous scar. How they were rivals in the same business of death. The way his eyes looked like an exotic predator's. How his features softened when he smiled genuinely or let those sharp contours of his face relax. That he saved her horse after she was poisoned and he came to her on that dusk for that favor to be returned. How she tracked down the ones who wounded him and murdered both with utmost drawn out cruelty. And now how she was contemplating shooting the man who occasionally reminded her of him sitting next to her.

“Which box does this put me in?”

@deathshadowed asked:

“Wanna crash the parade or party with me?”

The offer perhaps somewhat surprising from the always calculative hunter preferring the shadows instead the loud crowd. “It's been a while for me...y'know, I wasn't really invited to any events in life either. Had fun with mariachis mostly. Which was of course almost a sin worthy of a hanging at that time.” a pause after the brief reminiscence, continuing with a more hushed tone “Those colored things, pins, scarves, do you pick which color combination you like or goes with your outfit? Or what's with that?”

The offer had Striker stunned for a moment, not having expected her of all people to suggest going or hanging out together because of it. It had him feel calmer, at least seen by her, weird as it may sound, it was nice to be given a choice.

"I appreciate the offer, but it'd not be the same, but I'd rather hang out instead of partyin', can't say I have a mood fittin' for celebrating." He'd let out a long sigh, putting his knife down, having been keeping himself busy with sharpening it in a sort of meditation style, it helped him calm down.

"I don't know what colors I'd have, not sure what most of them mean, not sure if they have one for how I work." He'd stare at the dagger before starting to clean the blade from the light dirt from the polishing stone, starting to work it over with a damp cloth before going on a leather strap to remove the burr. "I know they mean freedom to them… Freedom to express themselves without anyone looking down or thinking less of them for it… It's something a lot of people have had to keep hidden in fear of being hurt, by the community, family, work… Airing out what's been kept inside is important, and I hope to get to do that one day once I find out what I am."

Finishing up the knife, he'd slide its sheath on his belt, looking winded as if he had just forgotten to breathe. "I'm just tired of being who people see me as and putting me in a box, or in the case of the parade, pushing me away from the boxes and having no idea about myself."

𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫. Ṣ̸̀o̷̖̒ul̴̖̃s̴n̶̔at̸c̴̍h̵̥͝e̸̾r.̷̺̑

𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝐨𝐫 𝕯𝖆𝖒𝖓𝖊𝖉; D̵̰̘͗͐e̸͚͑͆ȃ̶̆͐̆t̵̀̐̎ḩ̴̨̬̀ 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫

+𝟏𝟖 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐎𝐂 & 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲, 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦, 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥-𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐯𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞; 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭.

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧: death personified, self exile in order to protect others, effects of solitude, a past that was left behind but resurfaced viciously, tremendous amount of power and potential purposely kept locked away, yet an another Véghváry who has no idea she's been cursed, wicked great marksmanship, buried six feet under but the coffin is already empty, unique way of dealing with souls, the neutral harbinger, the lone rider, swift justice

♡ /↻ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭

𝓓𝓪𝓶𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓙𝓪𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮

True Hell. How ironic, how fitting. It was also spoken with a certain timbre, something that made the gunslinger arrive to the conclusion he had a similar trauma. Head hung in defeat, why did have he to be right? She listened to the admissions pouring freely, such sorrow instead of relief stemming from avoiding many close calls with death.

Karma couldn't free him from the guilt, it wasn't her place nor duty. Instead sat as a pillar of crumbling marble with understanding occasionally shining through too bright eyes surrounded by darkened sclera.

At first she didn't recognize the animalistic sound as her own voice, a mixture of a muffled scream and a serpent's agonized hiss; she never felt complete. His loss only worsened the everlasting feeling. Her hands moved faster than sound, the revolver she carried on her left pointed straight at him.

“I made a promise to never tell this to anyone. And if I did, I'd kill them.” her voice didn't hold its usual melody, jagged, frenzied almost.

“Your survival guilt is enormous. You don't fear death, you invite it. I'd be doing both of us a favor.” Yet she didn't sound convinced the slightest.

“I was- I was hired to kill him. He wasn't a good man, much more the opposite. Caused suffering everywhere he went...yet he made me feel like no one else could. Like I was alive. The widow of his recent visit hired me. We were in bed when I told him. He wasn't surprised, only asked whenever I accepted it. I said I'd let fate decide. Left one bullet in, spun the cylinder. When I cocked the gun I could hear it load. And I couldn't. Despite everything, I couldn't.” And it wouldn't be the case here. She no longer could empty the chambers in the afterlife, they were always full. And again she heard the bullet sliding in place as she cocked it.

“His name was Angel Eyes. And you.” one might mistake the flare in her eyes as anger but it was purest form of agony “You remind me of him. It hurts, you have no idea how badly so. The way you look at me, our little contests, the way you move, the timbre of your voice; I hear and see him in you. How dare you be so alike yet different.” a tremble traveling through her hands. Her hands never shook. Nor did ever wetness partly blur her vision when about to pull the trigger. Fractions of millimeters, she could hear the intricate inner mechanisms sliding together, closer and closer to an another death.

Instead of a bang it was a soft thud. But not the body of the serpentine imp but her revolver hurled way out of reach. Soft, muffled sobs soon filled the silence, perhaps the very first time Karma allowed herself to fully mourn this loss. Part of her wanted to apologize, for putting him through this after such honesty, perhaps she even would've if not for her overwhelming grief.

“You don't deserve death. And certainly didn't deserve what I've done to you. Shoot me, leave me here without guilt; I'd understand. Worse: I'd survive.” her laugh unstable with shadows ever growing, closing in and suffocating any other sound or source of light, only her cursed revolver glowed sick green in the sand.

“I was actually thinking about target practice” it was only a half joke

The atmosphere somber and calm, a combination never thought possible between them since they crossed paths. For some reason, Karma wanted to preserve it. Let it linger a little longer. Silence was something she was perhaps too familiar with, more than content with letting him talk.

“I don't and even if I wanted to, can't put you in a box. Maybe there isn't a...large one for you but more smaller ones. Don't think that's a bad thing.” Karma said carefully, taking into account all that was said, the actual meaning of the celebration. No wonder he felt this way.

Society's judgments were also among the things she never understood and didn't even want to. So feeble, fleeting ways to waste already short lives.

“I think-” maybe she shouldn't. But...he opened up too, genuinely.

“I think I loved a man once.” she needed to sit for this, the admission already feeling like a raw wound further deepened

“It wasn't like in the tales, wasn't even supposed to happen and I never...never said it to him. Of course neither did he to me.” a shaky intake of breath, ivory strands of hair pushed back perhaps a bit too aggressively “He made me feel like no one could. And I killed him.”

Karma remembered that day so sharply, amost as if more than a century hadn't passed since. The fear. The rage. The silent then hysterical pleas. The vast emptiness after which never left.

“He came to me gravely wounded. How he tracked me in that state is still a mystery. He wanted- wanted me to do it. I couldn't, could've never but he forced my hand. Knew I wouldn't have done it in self defense, of course he knew. Then with his last strength smiled and said ‘Now you're able to kill anyone.’ ” she recited, shoulders tense as a bowstring pulled tight. And how right he was.

Karma didn't speak about how he knew her before she got her famous scar. How they were rivals in the same business of death. The way his eyes looked like an exotic predator's. How his features softened when he smiled genuinely or let those sharp contours of his face relax. That he saved her horse after she was poisoned and he came to her on that dusk for that favor to be returned. How she tracked down the one who wounded him and murdered both with utmost drawn out cruelty. And now how she was contemplating shooting the man who occasionally reminded her of him sitting next to her.

“Which box does this put me in?”

The only time she felt, better said allowed such sorrow bubble freely from her chest was when her beloved horse was poisoned. She lost so much already and simply couldn't hold back it anymore, screaming bloody vengeance against whoever dared to hurt her precious with river of tears pouring into Villám's black mane. A miracle she wasn't tried as a witch, never in her life and afterlife she'd been that unstable. Until now.

Karma felt...something expand on both sides of her spine, the painless gashes growing in size until suffocating darkness was also pouring directly from them. Her eyes, scar glowed in the unnatural abyss, his voice managing to break through the increasing turmoil.

Part of her hoped he would shoot her. Instead came reassurance, which at last halted her sobs. Abyss lips parted slightly, her mind unable to wrap around the words...yet here she was as this abomination wishing the worst but she never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. Except for him.

His half question, half declaration rang true and she decided to not answer to that. They both knew the reply anyways. The next shock came at the gesture of handing back the weapon she almost killed him with, the cursed energy piercing through the blanket of darkness with sinister finality. Yet he was unharmed, as always.

Her movements slow, careful as she at first clasped his hand around the grip, holding just for a few seconds with care till her fingers were touching bare skin instead of the gloves he always wore.

“You're wrong regarding one thing.” Karma managed, gently taking back her revolver

“You don't remind me of a terrible past. You remind me to the only time in my life when I was happy and...alive. I can't hate you for that, believe me I've tried.” the entity lamented with sorrow, thin eyebrows knitting together on porcelain face as her mind pulled an another sentence fragment from his words

“Despite everything, you...like me?” asked with such contradictory innocence, a glimpse of humanity from the grim abyss

True Hell. How ironic, how fitting. It was also spoken with a certain timbre, something that made the gunslinger arrive to the conclusion he had a similar trauma. Head hung in defeat, why did have he to be right? She listened to the admissions pouring freely, such sorrow instead of relief stemming from avoiding many close calls with death.

Karma couldn't free him from the guilt, it wasn't her place nor duty. Instead sat as a pillar of crumbling marble with understanding occasionally shining through too bright eyes surrounded by darkened sclera.

At first she didn't recognize the animalistic sound as her own voice, a mixture of a muffled scream and a serpent's agonized hiss; she never felt complete. His loss only worsened the everlasting feeling. Her hands moved faster than sound, the revolver she carried on her left pointed straight at him.

“I made a promise to never tell this to anyone. And if I did, I'd kill them.” her voice didn't hold its usual melody, jagged, frenzied almost.

“Your survival guilt is enormous. You don't fear death, you invite it. I'd be doing both of us a favor.” Yet she didn't convinced the slightest.

“I was- I was hired to kill him. He wasn't a good man, much more the opposite. Caused suffering everywhere he went...yet he brought something for me. The widow of his recent visit hired me. We were in bed when I told him. He wasn't surprised, only asked whenever I accepted it. I said I'd let fate decide. Left one bullet in, spun the cylinder. When I cocked the gun I could hear it load. And I couldn't. Despite everything, I couldn't.” And it wouldn't be the case here. She no longer could empty the chambers in the afterlife, they were always full. And again she heard the bullet sliding in place as she cocked it.

“His name was Angel Eyes. And you.” one might mistake the flare in her eyes as anger but it was purest form of agony “You remind me of him. It hurts, you have no idea how badly so. The way you look at me, our little contests, the way you move, the timbre of your voice; I hear and see him in you. How dare you be so alike yet different.” a tremble traveling through her hands. Her hands never shook. Nor did ever wetness partly blur her vision when about to pull the trigger. Fractions of millimeters, she could hear the intricate inner mechanisms sliding together, closer and closer to an another death.

Instead of a bang it was a soft thud. But not the body of the serpentine imp but her revolver hurled way out of reach. Soft, muffled sobs soon filled the silence, perhaps the very first time Karma allowed herself to fully mourn this loss. Part of her wanted to apologize, for putting him through this after such honesty, perhaps she even would've if not for her overwhelming grief.

“You don't deserve death. And certainly didn't deserve what I've done to you. Shoot me, leave me here without guilt; I'd understand. Worse: I'd survive.” her laugh unstable with shadows ever growing, closing in and suffocating any other sound or source of light, only her cursed revolver glowed sick green in the sand.