Ic| Lord Have Mercy Because L Won't. - Tumblr Posts
“I do not. I accepted I will die and when I do, it will be on my own terms.” why wasn't she surprised that the creature, the wolf was capable of speech.
Adrenaline spiked higher after the translation of the Spanish, her statement very much brushed aside; the moment the wolf lunged so did her horse. 13 lives. 12 in the chambers, one within her.
The open provided little to no chance of a prolonged fight and she knew she had to keep her distance at all cost. The ebony mare flew towards the town, a cloud of dust in her wake. Veins on her neck bulging and rising to surface, a telltale sign of the half Akhal Teke nearing her top speed. A sharp halt at the edge of the small town, emerald eyes flickering between the two possible buildings.
A brothel. More opportunities to hide, to shoot from, to escape into other buildings by the windows but more casualties if the creature chasing her was too clouded by bloodlust. A bar. Probably medium crowd at this time of the day. Obstacles but easy extra time with the guns snatched from the already piss drunk. The owner probably has either a rifle or a shotgun under the counter.
Fluid dismount exactly in the middle of the two establishments, Villám purposely kicking up dirt to obscure the view before leaving Karma alone.
And she began to whistle.
At first hearing, it sounded almost cheery, it turned more and more sinister as the tune continued. Both revolvers cocked and ready, the path to either buildings clear. So she continued calling the creature with the knowledge she probably will perish today, yet it didn't matter. She wasn't a prey scrambling for her life, but looking for and possibly shooting Death straight in the eye when encountering properly.
@deathshadowed continued from x.
Death, in his time, had seen countless fools who were playing with their lives. This seemed to be the case, especially for Karma and her group of bounty hunters. He had been watching from afar, watching as the train and its occupants were torn to shreds, the wolf shaking his head out of frustration. He watched her and the other rider continue off away from the train, the wolf making his move.
He knew she had spotted him. It was hard to miss someone who stood out so far against the wasteland of the desert. White fur, red eyes, a black poncho and cloak. . . it was all someone needed to start guessing against themselves if such a figure was real.
But, in this case, staring her down as she reloaded her weapons, the wolf was. He reached for his scythes as his eyes glared out from beneath his hood, a hot snarl rolling from his lips as he spun them around once. Death knew she wouldn't be going down without a fight. He was prepared for this to take days if it needed to.
But he wasn't here just because she had cheated death, once more, from this little train fight. Oh no. . . she had a far larger history of pissing the wolf off and he was here to collect on her past misdeeds towards him.
❝I've always heard that you gunslingers had a death wish. . .❞ he commented coldly as he began to approach her, ❝But. . . Parece que tienes uno más grande que la mayoría.❞
With that. . . the wolf snarled loudly and began to race at her, weapons ready in his paws to end this one and for all. He wasn't going to allow her to leave without paying for her crimes against him.
He was going to make sure of that.
@alchemaxed
Long day, without the end of it in sight. At least it was quiet, away from prying eyes; deep in the laboratory which changed everything. She learned how to be indifferent and efficient by now, locking memories into containers just like...snakes. Her venom glands were acting up to the point they were causing discomfort, she was even recommended a dentist from her colleague.
It was time for a refill anyways. Submerged in the careful task of filling special bullets, a tiny hole drilled with precision into the point, only allowing the syringe to pass through and fill the cavity with her venom. Because of the modified structure, the bullet would be ruined upon impact and even if the wound itself wouldn't be lethal, the venom sealed the fate. Technically and legally, it classified as a biological weapon but Karma never felt the need to lament on ethics.
The activity eventually lulled her into productive serenity, until her laboratory started rattling, vials shattering, carefully arranged bullets scattering as a portal opened right there.
“MÉG A LÓFASZNAK IS VAN VÉGE!” (Even the horsedick has an end too!)
She snapped up from her chair with a furious exclamation at the sight of whatever the fuck invaded her space now.
“Ha megtalálom a felelőst hogy MINDENKI nálam köt ki, úgy faszon lövöm, hogy a következő életében is érezni fogja!” (If I find the one responsible that EVERYONE lands at me, I'm going to shoot him in the dick that he will feel that in his next life!)
“TAKARODJ PICSÁBA KI A HÁZAMBÓL!! ” (Get the fuck out of my house!) Revolvers already loaded, cocked and ready to be used
@iobartach also broke into Karma's house & “Speak for me again and I’ll detach something from you.”
The last encounter was also the last straw. After the disaster she was still finding cobras, taipans napping under surfaces, thanks to her floor heating. Not to mention the carefully arranged now scattered bullet supply. Or the missing, newest fine tuned other weapons.
An almost leisure sitting position on her couch, long finger methodically tapping against the black leather, waiting. She didn't have to till a portal opened again in her godforsaken living room.
“I sssaid.”
Came the already vicious hiss betraying her outer calm
“Fix your shit. If an another entity wrecks my laboratory, I will find a way to return the favor.” serpent slit eyes bore into the him like daggers sharpened to perfection, entirely unfazed by the threat or his presence.
“¿Entiendes?”
The mockingly soft hiss might have been unnecessary; but Karma had more than enough with the last intruder. Not to mention...the cleanup process took days, days without her ‘second job’. Days without emptying her venom into something or someone. And it was still her house, she was the most familiar with the layout and the secret surprises hidden all across the mansion, not just the six inch barreled revolvers in skilled fingers.
“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.
So it would seem she hasn't lost her allure completely. Although now it easily could be chalked up to her...condition. Her shadows stretched curiously at the creature, the last rays of sun and the lit oil lamp causing his to overlap with hers as he reached her lone table.
It wasn't often Karma got the chance to try this trick with supernatural entities; eyes averted as he spoke, hidden under the brim of her hat, well aware how her eyes will shift even more.
Churning sea soon to be colored crimson. A merciless father leading to extraordinary career heights. A pirate, mischievous, unfairly handsome with glinting dark eyes and messy hair filled with softly clinking trinkets. Trickster, thief and crafty, but not a cold blooded murderer. A young woman of high status, beautiful, a damsel at first then...a snarling pirate. But she never lost that air of haughty superiority that came with her birth. Brown doe eyes that seemed kind at the first look, yet such deception lurked underneath. And an another woman at last; a pirate just like the man but she was...vicious; like storm was forced into a human shape. Emerald eyes so bright, flashing like steel, insanity and intellect shining equally prominently. A greedy Brit dwarf thinking himself to be the king of the seas while according to myths it already had its Goddess and Devil. Creatures, more than fish than human led by the one resembling to an octopus.
His memories sharp and crystal clear like reflection on lagoon surface. Aching for telling, understanding and absolution. How...strange the contrast.
“It was an observation, vampire.”
Said so confidently yet casually as she raised her poison eyes to meet his again at last with a small smirk of ink lips.
“Worry not, vampire hunting isn't my work. Too many crosses facing the right direction and too many encounters with priests.” for further strengthening her point, she raised her jacket high enough for the metal fringes to be seen; the crosses at the ends were inverted.
“Sit” perhaps a bit too long fingers gestured to the unoccupied chair a bit further from her right, porcelain skin rivaling with her hair regarding color
“For the first time, I have a question.” it may have been a little rude to look into his memories without asking, at least she was courteous enough to not stay for his death
“You may not talk, but your shadow does. Surprisingly talkative in fact. It showed me three people who were very important to you, they must have been if you still remember them this sharply.” Karma mused out loud; the pattern was the same. Parent then loved one. She had seen two occasionally, but never three. She decided to gloss over the fact that the last woman, the swordfighter, the killer had the same eyes she once had.
“Which one did you truly love?” came the piercing question laced with genuine curiosity
“The black eyed pirate, no-” an another detail fluttering across her mind, causing a softer smile “The black eyed sparrow, the deceitful doe or the wild jaguar? Only one of them would've returned your affections with undying loyalty.”
(Yes you reblogged memes but...sort of wanted an official meeting ask before the dynamite coffin🤣)
Springrose became a ghost town after the Orphan returned to take revenge on the superstitious townfolk encouraged by their preacher to murder her family. They long forgotten her name, her face; nobody knew Death was riding into the town on an oil slick black horse. Most tales focus on the spreading fire; just like how her house burned. Others lay the weight on the act of hanging the preacher. Some mention both. What remains the same in each version is the endorsed murder, the arrival of the gunfighter more than a decade ago to settle a long overdue debt and her disappearance after.
Springcreek was established around 50 miles away, survivors afraid of her possible return even though it has been over a hundred years. Many swore they saw a ghost, a wraith with the same horse as the orphan turned gunslinger in the abandoned town. A few, extremely brave people has left flowers, small trinkets near the once beautiful burned down house as condolences.
“I have seen men almost driven mad by lust.” the voice mused from a shadowy corner of the saloon after observation, one loud clank of steel heels as the other foot was set down
“Also familiar with the phrase ‘good enough to eat’, but.” there was always a but whenever she intervened “You seem to take that saying quite literally from what I see in your gaze.” and the woman leaned forward, pure ivory strands of hair falling from her hat, her eyes perhaps too bright emerald that almost seemed to glow in the setting dusk.
“It couldn't be that long time, stranger.” it could be said the newcomer can be considered a fine man appearance vise, surely working girls would even fight for his attention in any establishment. “And this area has an already bloody history, sure the locals already told their ghost stories. No need to add an another one.” soft spoken yet firm, not a threat, barely skirting a warning. Only her stare was akin to being caught in the crosshair, quite literally with the scarring around her right eye.
Inhuman green eyes people watched as if he were looking over feast instead of human beings. Yet, a voice managed to reach him through the noise of the ruckus. He sat with no drink infront of him, but full glass of water untouched. ( Un touched water.. in the desert??? )
Tortuga or Tombstone, Norrington saw these rowdy folk the same as pirates. They were the same rogues and ne'er-do-wells, just with a different accent.
Yet someone had noticed the vampire, her voice was exotic and cut through the minutia.
He listened to her words, each one a precise observation that struck at the heart of his condition. The mention of men driven mad by lust and the unsettling glint in her eyes spoke volumes about her experience and the battles she had fought.
Approaching her table, with a deliberate grace, the floorboards creaked under his boots. His gaze met hers—bright emerald eyes that seemed to pierce through the dusk matching the neon of his own, brought out by her very presence, the vampiric nature of him .
"I appreciate the poetry, Miss, but I'm not in the market for a lecture on my appetites, literal or otherwise."
He crosses his arms leaning back, hat tipped back. His voice-- accent too posh and English to be a cowpoke.
"Your insight is sharp," he admitted, steady and measured. " I've no doubt this town has seen its share of darkness, but I assure you, I am not here to add to its legends." Although the lost Dutchman mine in the superstitions did pique the pirate he was once and he would be adding to the blood spilled. There was no getting away from that.
“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.”
👊 to help my muse in a physical altercation. - from frank
They called her The Heiress. Well, it was one of the more acceptable titles to refer her to as in public or within earshot. Inheriting her father's ranch so early due to a tragedy, a crime that was never solved even to this day, people whispered possible predictions, none in favor of the orphan. Despite the tragedy, the pressure from every direction she prevailed against all odds. No one knew her given name, only her family one, Véghváry, what a strange name anyways; instead the young ranch owner introduced herself as Karma. Seemingly hellbent on taking her first name to the grave.
Law enforcement really couldn't take criticism, especially when it came to more serious matters and with considerable alcohol in their system. But how could've Karma stayed quiet upon the endless boasting of catching someone without a green card while the back of her property was a graveyard of gang members?
Cowards, all of them. The braver ones all had been shot, leaving only the rats. She dodged the furious swipes of the broken bottle effortlessly even in the crowded inn and broke an another on his head when given the opening. Smug chuckle freezing on her vocal chords when she heard the ‘Get her horse!’ yell.
Her boots a thunder as she sprinted past, avoiding grasps upon Villám's panicked neighs and the soon to be deputy sheriff trying to get close to the ebony mare with a knife.
Drawing her Colt was an ingrained instinct, yet that split second was enough for one of the officers to catch up with her. The man jumped on her in the word's most literal meaning, both of them landing in dirt, a full force punch cracking her head sideways before she could've shot in self defense. Head spinning with tongue tasting iron, the ten inch barrel Colt slipping a few inches out of reach from her always steady hand.
Karma still trashed, hissed every obscenity she could currently think of, her tirade cut short by hands wrapping around her throat with a "Fuckin' slippery bitch" grunt. She could try and possibly reach her gun and kill in rightful self defense, although knowing the sheriff...Villám neighed again, hooves hitting sand indicating she reared. She needed her, no matter the cost. The dilemma was solved when a well built man grabbed the officer and pulled the bastard off her in one motion; she couldn't recall seeing him around but he definitely seemed to be able to handle the drunkards pouring out upon the intervention.
Like a snake slithering in sand, she swung her body towards her gun, shooting the deputy's hat off with deafening thunder, immediately halting his excited sawing of the reins. Karma stood slowly, dust covered, bloodied, eyes wild with fury, Colt already cocked and never losing her aim.
“Lay a hand on my horse and the next one will go through your skull.” gone the visage most people encountered, the calm, leveled voice spoke of experience in taking lives. If not for the motorbikes parked nearby, or the neon glow of the inn, it would've been so easy to believe time simply stopped in the 1800s here.
“You alright there tough guy?” she inquired, but decided to not risk a glance behind, keeping the man in her crosshairs
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.
A city was built in the sunkissed desert. Karma, seemingly eternally frozen in time only watched from her ebony mare as it grew, more vibrant, loud, populated, suffocating in crime. Witnessing its advancing was among her most surreal experiences. Her own realm, the unforgiving heated sandy wastelands were getting smaller, the city's thrum reaching far. With the ever growing crime rate more hastily or not even buried dead littered the outskirts.
Karma setting a foot in this town was a rarity, especially this deep but the shadows kept whispering, urging her to come. She had left Villám long before entering, thankfully the intelligent horse understood well why she had to stay behind.
The gunfighter's clothing barely changed throughout centuries, only she allowed more prominent metal chain fringes on her jacket, the decorations chiming with a soft finality with each move. The shadows led her to a museum, by then she also could feel it. Not sparing much attention to the displays nor the people; few, probably around closing time, that was good. She didn't know yet what would happen.
The aura was akin to a harsh push when she sensed it full force. Close, not too much but already enough for her eyes to morph even more. Her stainless steel heels a steady thunder of something unavoidable approaching.
Burgundy was a stark contrast against her bone white hair and skin, the chain fringes giving one final clink as she stopped at the entrance.
“This shithole is your doing.”
A statement bold and sure, the modern disguise of the demon incapable of fooling her senses. Poison eyes flicked to the criminal decorated wall.
“Along with other deeds indirectly leading to deaths of the undeserving.”
Sin City
Every now and then, Astaroth liked to don a human disguise and take a vacation to the surface. During these vacations, he would travel the world, checking in on the various cults that worshipped him, before settling in one spot for a few days and simply enjoying himself. He never stayed up for too long, lest anyone on Earth or up in Heaven figure out who he was.
A popular spot for him was Las Vegas, the city that gave him the idea to open a casino himself. He loved this city, so full of sin and vice, a true demon's paradise. So many casinos to see, so many other attractions, he never felt like he gave himself enough time for anything.
Today he was at the Mob Museum, somewhere he'd been meaning to visit for many years now. More than a few crime lords whose reach extended to Las Vegas had their blessing from Astaroth; his ability to lead men to treasure was a powerful one, and so often led people here. The blue-haired disguised human was grinning as he browsed the Wall of Mobsters, recognizing plenty of the photographs on the wall, some from reputation, some from meeting them personally.
@deathshadowed
“Humans can be more than vile without any intervention.” when did she start speaking like she isn't one of them anymore?
Inky lips curled into a sneer at the so blatant display of control over the mind; subtlety was certainly lost on this one. Soon the corner of her mouth quirked up at the now visible crack of the mask, the gunslinger unmoving from her previous stand. Her trustworthy Colts by her sides a comforting weight as always.
“Death.”
Her expression briefly contorting into confusion after the immediate, confident reply...she never could quite name exactly what was she. Or maybe she never wanted to dig deeper in fear of what she might find. This felt frighteningly fitting.
“Therefore I don't give a fuck where you crawled out of. You've done more enough here. Leave to ruin an another place; your time here is up.” Karma always warned once, only fair this way.
His shadow was overlapping hers, better said the ever growing shadows accompanying her. She easily could've read the past from it, yet her gut advised against it. Especially after spelling ‘get the fuck out’ to the demon who apparently had himself on a high pedestal of vile glory.
Sin City
Every now and then, Astaroth liked to don a human disguise and take a vacation to the surface. During these vacations, he would travel the world, checking in on the various cults that worshipped him, before settling in one spot for a few days and simply enjoying himself. He never stayed up for too long, lest anyone on Earth or up in Heaven figure out who he was.
A popular spot for him was Las Vegas, the city that gave him the idea to open a casino himself. He loved this city, so full of sin and vice, a true demon's paradise. So many casinos to see, so many other attractions, he never felt like he gave himself enough time for anything.
Today he was at the Mob Museum, somewhere he'd been meaning to visit for many years now. More than a few crime lords whose reach extended to Las Vegas had their blessing from Astaroth; his ability to lead men to treasure was a powerful one, and so often led people here. The blue-haired disguised human was grinning as he browsed the Wall of Mobsters, recognizing plenty of the photographs on the wall, some from reputation, some from meeting them personally.
@deathshadowed
Silent as marble, she had to get used to such title herself.
“I didn't say where to go, only to away. And the why is because I feel imbalance. Too much evil influence outweighing good. Life cannot flourish.” curt explanation soon followed by ire laced words “I'm a drifter. Go wherever I'm called or feel like. Don't think yourself so highly. You aren't special when it comes to personal visits. Mortals, divine and demonic; all the same at the end. And don't even bring God into this. Give even less shit about him and ‘his ways’ than I do about you.” the spark of the old fire long thought dead flared viciously in acid green glare
Karma didn't dignify that with an another reply. Unnatural darkness rolled into the room like a tidal wave, the ivory haired woman dissolving into black mist with green tints. Faster than any eye could follow, the shade whirled into the center of the room accompanied by the ever growing undechiperable whispers of the abyss. Lights suffocated, glass shattered, portraits dissolved, rot eating away the rich burgundy tapestry.
The shadows formed her body again, this time with revolvers already in hand, crosshair scar glowing seafoam green.
“I don't like repeating myself.”
Sin City
Every now and then, Astaroth liked to don a human disguise and take a vacation to the surface. During these vacations, he would travel the world, checking in on the various cults that worshipped him, before settling in one spot for a few days and simply enjoying himself. He never stayed up for too long, lest anyone on Earth or up in Heaven figure out who he was.
A popular spot for him was Las Vegas, the city that gave him the idea to open a casino himself. He loved this city, so full of sin and vice, a true demon's paradise. So many casinos to see, so many other attractions, he never felt like he gave himself enough time for anything.
Today he was at the Mob Museum, somewhere he'd been meaning to visit for many years now. More than a few crime lords whose reach extended to Las Vegas had their blessing from Astaroth; his ability to lead men to treasure was a powerful one, and so often led people here. The blue-haired disguised human was grinning as he browsed the Wall of Mobsters, recognizing plenty of the photographs on the wall, some from reputation, some from meeting them personally.
@deathshadowed
The entity grinned, inky abyss where her lips should've been at the reveal in return, not sheathing her guns just yet.
“Excess sin leads to an unnatural spike of deaths. You can imagine how the world wars felt like. I feel it. Every demonic, divine interference, presence and the ones existing in between.”
“Bad experiences with that opening.” she refused to elaborate further, since that incident she started with guns ready and a simple get the fuck out before shooting if the entity didn't comply.
“You leave somewhere else. When you ruined that place too, travel again. I'm not policing where. But if I sense you near Vegas ever again I will kill you without hesitation. Same goes if you touch my horse. That's my word and deal which I will honor.”
His agreement was slightly surprising, it was an extremely small percentage of her encounters where a negotiation could be reached. Keeper of Balance...no, not quite. And the shadows told her Balance exists in form of a cosmic phoenix. She was Death, so it seemed. And for certainly she will be looking into the history of the town to find out exactly who could get this answer out of her.
“In old times, they called me Karma.”
Sin City
Every now and then, Astaroth liked to don a human disguise and take a vacation to the surface. During these vacations, he would travel the world, checking in on the various cults that worshipped him, before settling in one spot for a few days and simply enjoying himself. He never stayed up for too long, lest anyone on Earth or up in Heaven figure out who he was.
A popular spot for him was Las Vegas, the city that gave him the idea to open a casino himself. He loved this city, so full of sin and vice, a true demon's paradise. So many casinos to see, so many other attractions, he never felt like he gave himself enough time for anything.
Today he was at the Mob Museum, somewhere he'd been meaning to visit for many years now. More than a few crime lords whose reach extended to Las Vegas had their blessing from Astaroth; his ability to lead men to treasure was a powerful one, and so often led people here. The blue-haired disguised human was grinning as he browsed the Wall of Mobsters, recognizing plenty of the photographs on the wall, some from reputation, some from meeting them personally.
@deathshadowed
“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.”