[mature] what's in your head? {Morty & anyone else who wants to deal with jack}

[Jackel]

jackel

Things are so much clearer in the other world.  The never ending, babbling haze that veils my mind is drawn up by the abrupt finality of death.  Blurred memories suddenly sharpen to pinpoint focus and it is overwhelming.  So overwhelming in fact, that many of these memories are strewn by the wayside—it’s simply a protective instinct—though I can take away the bare minimum of my endeavors.  But for me, the finality of death is only temporary.  In the blink of an eye I’m dead and gone, and then equally as quickly I’m tossed back out into the world of the living.  Or at least it feels like it.  I guess I am just too much for the spirit world to accommodate at the present time (yeah, probably never).

My eyes have already opened and adjusted to the brightness of daylight and the burning in my lungs upon my first breath in days has subsided.  There is an audible snapping and creaking amidst the slumbering giants as cartilage  and joints that had become flimsy and dislocated after days of disuse resume their functions.  But they protest as they grind in their sockets; my movements stiff and almost robotic looking as I take a couple tentative steps away from my latest gravesite.  Another notch in the bedpost, if you will.  The latest line in the tally always seemed to be better than the one before.  The pain, the blood, the sex…so disturbing, so morbid, so exquisite.

Whatever clarity that had been a side effect of my passing is quickly fading.  Standing within the quiet of Sylva I wait  upon crooked limbs, dried blood and mud caked onto my lackluster coat, as the gauzy veil slowly descends.  The shadows grow longer around me and a wicked grin inclines upon the plain of face.  They’re practically dancing for me, telling me with their body language that my worst fucking nightmare is still amongst them…plus some others.

A girlish giggle works its way to fruition—shattering the quiet.  I fucking hate the quiet.

And I’m back for more, bitches.

all this joy, I've got some to share

devin's∇designs



@[Modicum Mortem]

[Elise]

Laughter is all she hears, and the woman is drawn to it like a moth to flame. Dark hooves barely touch the earth as the phantom glides through the Sylvan timber. To any outsider she was just as beautiful as she had been years ago. That silky pelt was the same gorgeous mix of ambers and off white. Her eyes still shone a malevolent ice blue, but her soul. Or that soul only shone for her children, and for others it was black as night. Colder than arctic ice caps. 

She sees the other rise from the earth as she had (though she had not risen from death) her body cracking into place with sickening crunches and pops. Lillith smiles and licks chapped lips as she makes her presence know to the laughing lady. 

"Who are you?" 

She rumbles, dark tresses curling lazily around a cocked hind leg. It was about time she became acquainted with those whom surrounded her. This woman was interesting, she caught the fleeting attention of Lillith and the painted woman was locked on.

"You seem like a good time." 
and oh how she loved a good time.

||\
Maybe she can stir up some drama

[Modicum Mortem]

For days he’d come back to the shallow grave that kept his laughing lady protected. Her beating vessel, he hung it from the trees in the heart of the forest for all to see. A memory for him, a warning for others.

She was ruthless, the little thing, so he knew it was only a matter of time before she returned, a living dead girl. It fascinates him, the lifelessness in her dark pools, the rigor mortise that sets into her bones. He’s unsure how she will recover from her death, but he’s excited nonetheless. He wants Her back, the bewitching little thing.

The quiet of the forest is interrupted by that impish little giggle - she’s back to cause more trouble. Mortem grins, calling to her, taunting her. “We all float, Jackel...” A wicked, horrible laugh. “She sees the ghost!”

Following the echo of laughter he is finally able to see her. Sexy, beautiful, crazy thing his laughing lady is. But she is not alone. With her stands his flame. She’s angry at him, and this makes him laugh. How long could she stay angry? Tsk tsk.

“Jackel...” He slithers by her side, biting at the wound on her shoulder that has still yet to close completely. “How was floating?” He looks over to Lillith, grinning.

“Do you want to float too, flame?”

@[Lillith Elvira] @[Jackel] idek What this is I’m sorry I’m advance.

[Jackel]

jackel

Only a minute passes before I hear the shuffle of something moving through the fiery tears of the giants.  It speaks to me, whatever it is, but I cannot see it yet.  The lingering stiffness in my neck as prevented me from raising my dial any higher than chest level.  This will pass, but it takes time and my present company does not allow me such indulgences.  My head tilts almost unnaturally to the side, allowing my constricted pupils to appraise whatever has stumbled upon my resurrection.  The something just so happens to be of the female variety;  something wicked this way comes and all that.  My eyes roll sluggishly in my head due to the lack of moisture, tracing the outline of her frosted frame.  The pretty frigid mare speaks to me then, but no sooner do her words register than I hear the taunting.  My head slumps to the other side to hear better and that impish grin grows a little wider—he calls to me, the shadows were right.  Why do I ever doubt them?

I’ve been trying to find my voice this entire time, shifting my gaze back to the mare; my voice seems to be the last thing to return to me.  Death literally chokes the life out of you and vocal chords rigid with unuse are fickle things to become pliable again.  Laughing is one thing, formulating words is entirely another.

My nightmare approaches, saying my name and answering the question of the other woman.  As for her last statement, well, ”Depends…upon your definition of… good”, I manage to force the words out with a wheezing laugh.

Teeth meet my raw flesh and I inhale a sharp intake of breath; nerve endings fresh and alight spark my adrenaline anew and my head suddenly snaps skyward.  The movement elicits a collective symphony of cracking vertebrae as they finally realign into their proper places, recovering all of my lost movement at last.  The sound is the loveliest music to my ears.  Lingering stiffness resides in my muscles but that would fade eventually, at least I could move more fluidly now.

The sting in my shoulder draws the attention to my devil; my nose meets his chest, breathing in where I had first tasted his blood, moving upward along his midnight flesh and into the coarseness of his mane.  “You know just what buttons to push, don’t you?  My worst fucking nightmare, did my heart keep you good company while I was away?” I whisper hoarsely, giggling into the darkness of his tangled locks.

But I have not forgotten about the third member of our ménage a trois, as my sharp eyes fixate on the wickedness of the snowy woman nearby; there’s an ache in my bones that I can’t ignore—it tells me that we are not so different her and I.  In a couple languorous steps I am within the bubble of her personal space, as a cheshire grin stakes claim of my dried blood stained lips.  Eyes widening to show their whites,  “Do you like the taste of blood, sweetling?  Such a pretty thing, you are.”

all this joy, I've got some to share

devin's∇designs

OOC: Hope you guys are cool with creepy Jack today. Also, imma slap a [mature] label on this thread because....yeah.

@[Elise] @[Modicum Mortem]