So spend your hours on What you think I've done wrong I know I'm in your mind I've been here way too long I want to spend my life With those who've done me right Your heart is frozen over I'm a four-leaf clover
“Yep, and I like it. Knew something like this would get you up.” He says with a smile, sitting down nearby.
He sighs, looking down “And why can’t I come along? I’m capable and strong, you know that.”
Their mouth once again wraps around his arm, taking the flesh before pulling back. Xavier feels a claw making its way down his spine as Ambrosia sits next to him.
A seed-like pod falls from the sky like a fleshy shooting star. As it hits the ground, it splits open, pouring goopy blackness to the dirt as it reforms into a floral shape made of humanoid parts, resembling the remains of every villain, hero, or other important being that has ever been to this place, dissolving into darkness and gore before another flower blooms, over and over again, iterating on the failures of every fear that ever made its presence known in this place. After at least 10 revolutions of horror, a statue of some unspeakable abomination appears in the center, surrounded by arcs of limbs and webbings of nerves. Then it opens in the middle like an iron maiden of meat...
A man, if you could call him that, emerges. He immediately gets up and dances across the ground, gliding frictionless through the remnants as the greasy shadows gather around his curly-toed Uggs. His fluff-fringed cape flows around him despite its obvious weight as he moves weightlessly across the earth, enraptured by his own dance.
A wide-brimmed witch hat with a six-lashed eye symbol on it, bent over with a little ball of fluff at the end rides atop this strange figure. On his shoulders is a strange garment, a combination of pointed shoulder pads which curl up like horns to end in more fluffballs and a frill like you would find on an opera cape, covered in yet more fluff as well and contain a pair of cat-like eyes shrouded in darkness. He has a long, perfectly rectangular strip of fabric hanging from where his neck should be, three black stars running down the middle and ending with (guess what?) a ball of fluff.
A woman seems to watch, cleaning a knife that she holds in hand. The body of a deer lies in the grass, the organs skillfully removed. She tilts her head, her long brown hair moving from her face, the ugly flesh marred and scarred from years of bone structure turned fractured. She cleans her hands off and places her knife in the sheath on her belt.
A seed-like pod falls from the sky like a fleshy shooting star. As it hits the ground, it splits open, pouring goopy blackness to the dirt as it reforms into a floral shape made of humanoid parts, resembling the remains of every villain, hero, or other important being that has ever been to this place, dissolving into darkness and gore before another flower blooms, over and over again, iterating on the failures of every fear that ever made its presence known in this place. After at least 10 revolutions of horror, a statue of some unspeakable abomination appears in the center, surrounded by arcs of limbs and webbings of nerves. Then it opens in the middle like an iron maiden of meat...
A man, if you could call him that, emerges. He immediately gets up and dances across the ground, gliding frictionless through the remnants as the greasy shadows gather around his curly-toed Uggs. His fluff-fringed cape flows around him despite its obvious weight as he moves weightlessly across the earth, enraptured by his own dance.
A wide-brimmed witch hat with a six-lashed eye symbol on it, bent over with a little ball of fluff at the end rides atop this strange figure. On his shoulders is a strange garment, a combination of pointed shoulder pads which curl up like horns to end in more fluffballs and a frill like you would find on an opera cape, covered in yet more fluff as well and contain a pair of cat-like eyes shrouded in darkness. He has a long, perfectly rectangular strip of fabric hanging from where his neck should be, three black stars running down the middle and ending with (guess what?) a ball of fluff.
A woman seems to watch, cleaning a knife that she holds in hand. The body of a deer lies in the grass, the organs skillfully removed. She tilts her head, her long brown hair moving from her face, the ugly flesh marred and scarred from years of bone structure turned fractured. She cleans her hands off and places her knife in the sheath on her belt.
He slides over to her, eyes big and curious. He holds perfectly still for a minute, directly in front of her. "Are we related?"
A seed-like pod falls from the sky like a fleshy shooting star. As it hits the ground, it splits open, pouring goopy blackness to the dirt as it reforms into a floral shape made of humanoid parts, resembling the remains of every villain, hero, or other important being that has ever been to this place, dissolving into darkness and gore before another flower blooms, over and over again, iterating on the failures of every fear that ever made its presence known in this place. After at least 10 revolutions of horror, a statue of some unspeakable abomination appears in the center, surrounded by arcs of limbs and webbings of nerves. Then it opens in the middle like an iron maiden of meat...
A man, if you could call him that, emerges. He immediately gets up and dances across the ground, gliding frictionless through the remnants as the greasy shadows gather around his curly-toed Uggs. His fluff-fringed cape flows around him despite its obvious weight as he moves weightlessly across the earth, enraptured by his own dance.
A wide-brimmed witch hat with a six-lashed eye symbol on it, bent over with a little ball of fluff at the end rides atop this strange figure. On his shoulders is a strange garment, a combination of pointed shoulder pads which curl up like horns to end in more fluffballs and a frill like you would find on an opera cape, covered in yet more fluff as well and contain a pair of cat-like eyes shrouded in darkness. He has a long, perfectly rectangular strip of fabric hanging from where his neck should be, three black stars running down the middle and ending with (guess what?) a ball of fluff.
A woman seems to watch, cleaning a knife that she holds in hand. The body of a deer lies in the grass, the organs skillfully removed. She tilts her head, her long brown hair moving from her face, the ugly flesh marred and scarred from years of bone structure turned fractured. She cleans her hands off and places her knife in the sheath on her belt.
He slides over to her, eyes big and curious. He holds perfectly still for a minute, directly in front of her. "Are we related?"
"We are not, at least I do not know, we may be but not in the ways of biology I would assume." She said, her words turning into a laugh at the end.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
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*Would that be me, Salem? If so, I’m deeply sorry for whatever I did, and I love you.*
*Welcome back Moon.*
(how are ya)
So spend your hours on
What you think I've done wrong
I know I'm in your mind
I've been here way too long
I want to spend my life
With those who've done me right
Your heart is frozen over
I'm a four-leaf clover
*Im doin’ decent, ya know how it be.*
*Im so sorry, happy to hear I’m still husband number one though, thought Jobah would replace me, I’ll go get it.^
He puts it on the record player, seeing how good the songs are in the album.
He tilts his head “Which uncle? The one that saved your dad or the one that helped save your dad?” He asks, worried about where they are going.
It grumbles softly, their eyes smiling up at them.
*ksjsjsj*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Hello again, Wendi.*
*(Nibbles your arm)*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Cut for Salem.*
“Yep, and I like it. Knew something like this would get you up.” He says with a smile, sitting down nearby.
He sighs, looking down “And why can’t I come along? I’m capable and strong, you know that.”
Their mouth once again wraps around his arm, taking the flesh before pulling back. Xavier feels a claw making its way down his spine as Ambrosia sits next to him.
A woman seems to watch, cleaning a knife that she holds in hand. The body of a deer lies in the grass, the organs skillfully removed. She tilts her head, her long brown hair moving from her face, the ugly flesh marred and scarred from years of bone structure turned fractured. She cleans her hands off and places her knife in the sheath on her belt.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Sorry, missed this. Also, ouchies, my arm. Good to see you Wendi.*
*How're ye?*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Im alive, just happy to see you really. You?*
*Eh, a wee bit sad but that's nothing new.*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*I hate to hear that, but there is nothing I can likely do, to which I’m sorry.^
He slides over to her, eyes big and curious. He holds perfectly still for a minute, directly in front of her. "Are we related?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"We are not, at least I do not know, we may be but not in the ways of biology I would assume." She said, her words turning into a laugh at the end.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘