call it aftermath, he's turning blue
Who: Undertaker [cadaverdaddy], Veser [sealbait], and Lee [gotsomebadnoose]
When: backdated to Sunday October 16 after this thread and this thread
Where: Undertaker's house in Sector 4
Summary: Old memories are dredged up with the visage of an iron bar, and the floodgates open. Dadception ensues.
Warnings: Possession, trauma, mentions of murder/staged suicide, etc creepy
[Laughter's ringing through the basement in peal after peal, the Undertaker bouncing his mirth and riddles off the concrete walls. Veser and Lee, the ones who inhabit his home who so few have ever dared. So few have taken steps into his realm without the intention of leaving as soon as possible. They've come to take purchase in his heart, a little nook where curiosity and something else have met. Paternal instinct perhaps, or lingering tendencies of the reaper and undertaker alike. One meant to care for the souls of the dead, and the bodies respectively. Caring, nurturing, tender and unconditional. Yes, that's what he feels. The same sweet smiles gracing his lips toward them as he flashes to the young woman in white as she lay on his table, his fingertips pressing down on eyelids, smearing away the petroleum jelly that leaks. How lovely these two are, despite the obvious reality that they still draw breath.
Or well, one of them does.
The other is just beautiful in everything he is, in his very existence that just shouldn't be, and yet is. A paradox among paradoxes even. Breathtaking.
Tilting his head back toward Lee, his hair falls away from his face, green twinkling in the ghost's direction, bouncing with his delight. And he returns to Veser. Long fingers reach down and wrap around the metal length of the crowbar he'd lighted on the lid of the wooden casket prior. For the moment, it doesn't move. It remains lighted there, full weight not yet held in his grasp, as his fingers reach to brush knuckles across Veser's cheek affectionately. It's truly hard for him to keep his hands to himself sometimes.] I would be delighted to have you as my protege, Veser, utterly delighted.
[And back to Lee, focusing on him with those emerald hues. So similar to the ones he saw staring from the darkness of memory in the brief moments in which he'd struggled with the ghost's consciousness. His hair cascading in silver from his shoulders, the braids breaking the smooth lines, and yet complimenting them.] Don't you agree, Lee? He would make a wonderful undertaker.
When: backdated to Sunday October 16 after this thread and this thread
Where: Undertaker's house in Sector 4
Summary: Old memories are dredged up with the visage of an iron bar, and the floodgates open. Dadception ensues.
Warnings: Possession, trauma, mentions of murder/staged suicide, etc creepy
[Laughter's ringing through the basement in peal after peal, the Undertaker bouncing his mirth and riddles off the concrete walls. Veser and Lee, the ones who inhabit his home who so few have ever dared. So few have taken steps into his realm without the intention of leaving as soon as possible. They've come to take purchase in his heart, a little nook where curiosity and something else have met. Paternal instinct perhaps, or lingering tendencies of the reaper and undertaker alike. One meant to care for the souls of the dead, and the bodies respectively. Caring, nurturing, tender and unconditional. Yes, that's what he feels. The same sweet smiles gracing his lips toward them as he flashes to the young woman in white as she lay on his table, his fingertips pressing down on eyelids, smearing away the petroleum jelly that leaks. How lovely these two are, despite the obvious reality that they still draw breath.
Or well, one of them does.
The other is just beautiful in everything he is, in his very existence that just shouldn't be, and yet is. A paradox among paradoxes even. Breathtaking.
Tilting his head back toward Lee, his hair falls away from his face, green twinkling in the ghost's direction, bouncing with his delight. And he returns to Veser. Long fingers reach down and wrap around the metal length of the crowbar he'd lighted on the lid of the wooden casket prior. For the moment, it doesn't move. It remains lighted there, full weight not yet held in his grasp, as his fingers reach to brush knuckles across Veser's cheek affectionately. It's truly hard for him to keep his hands to himself sometimes.] I would be delighted to have you as my protege, Veser, utterly delighted.
[And back to Lee, focusing on him with those emerald hues. So similar to the ones he saw staring from the darkness of memory in the brief moments in which he'd struggled with the ghost's consciousness. His hair cascading in silver from his shoulders, the braids breaking the smooth lines, and yet complimenting them.] Don't you agree, Lee? He would make a wonderful undertaker.