CAN'T SAVE A SOUL LIKE MINE // OPEN

[REAPER]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Gabriel was dead. His cover gone, and it didn't fix anything.

It would be a joke to say he was in control. His handler- Pincher could fix this. If he wanted the job done, if he wanted The Ascendants on a spit over the fire, he would fix Reaper. Banish the hunger, let Reaper think again without needing more and more and more to fill his empty belly. He considered that maybe Pincher would put him down like a mad dog, but that couldn't keep him away. Just- anything to make it stop.

He'd lost count of how many he'd eaten. Sunhaven, Snowbound, The Pitt, The Ascendants- he'd tasted of them all, and still he needed more. It had all been going so smoothly in the beginning, Sunhaven raiding The Ascendants, blood heated as it spilled. Moonmade had almost been his for the taking. Almost. That had fallen through. Now there was only Agathe, and it seemed Sunhaven had forgotten the carcasses.

Reaper wished he could. They called to him with their deadened eyes, mouths gaping like fish, crawling across the ground. His mouth salivated already at the memory of flesh and bone across his tongue, hot blood in his belly. The many mouths littering his body lolled out their tongues, licking at the air for just a phantom taste of sweet copper, recoiling when there was only salt.

He was a nightmare to behold, sinking in and out of the ground as his body shifted between tangibility, pinioned wings flailing at his sides while all the sets of eyes and mouths opened, closed. Smoke billowed from his head, and he disappeared every so often, reappearing feet ahead or behind, sometimes in the water, or just beneath the rails. Keeping himself together was running across no man's land expecting to emerge unscathed- impossible.

The heavily mutated lion fell at the gates, mouths gnashing, chest heaving, obsidian eyes bleeding into alizarin crimson. "Pincher," he snarled, voice emerging as a graveled cacophony from many lips, "Fix me.""

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"][ guns emoji as I track this ]

[Grimm]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]Murderer. Cannibal. Monster.

Caught upon the fine strands of thought one may find may words lingering, plucked from the mess of the vocabulary given to any who may have come upon the presence of such a beast – roiling mess of flesh and decay, parting of skin until about his structure orifice had been made, hunger touching upon the very strands contained within a structure that should not be. Within a way it seemed to know this fact, felt within the fibres that drew together the mess of it until it flickered in and out of this existence as best it might, clinging to the edges, cracking and breaking apart only to reform once more.

Hell upon earth might it be, this mess of flesh and bone drawn about the core aspect of hunger for the living, for the flesh and the fine network of veins contained within, caught in a prison of its own making.

Better may it have been for both if the one to answer the call, if such may be deemed such for no words found perch upon pale lips, rather home to the curl of a frown was it, had been the man wanted. Child drawn from the threads of heaven and hell, if such places may be rooted within anything one might deem as truth, worked about the core of a mortal being – set apart as this other was, their own thing and discarded for it, outcast in a place of many clinging to the edges for different were they all. Clouded the eyes which find the other, touch upon body that should not exist and almost screams for such, driven on only by the coiling heat of desire, eating along its own prison to continue the cycle.

Within a head toned in shadings of cream and lilac there is no memory of this being nor the things of his past, events drawn about by such a thing which tainted his heart, ruined what once had been a man of honour and kindness, father to few and friend to many no matter his way of acting, brought low by means out of his control. Indeed may have mercy been best, to end the pitiful existence he had found himself suspended within, but nothing of such thing rose within the hollow void of the child, found no root within a heart that seemed missing – so what was the fluttering, the beat of a hummingbird's wings touching along the curve of their ribs.

There was to be no fixing for a creature such as this, no ailment touched him for condemned was he in all ways. Over the dark shape of him eyes roved, found the parting where new mouths had been made, the flickering want of tongues extending and retreating in their disgust, displeased at the tang of salt drawn about the air. They are nothing but shades, colours odd as they reach into the shadings of brown and green, touch upon the lace edge of sky melding with it all, curiosity a gentle touch about their thoughts. Kaisa would not be the next to speak, tightly pressed the lips as the child lingered behind the open gates, silent bystander curious as to what would bring someone such as this here seeking audience with Pincher.