Second of Sun's Dawn (OTA)

[blindwatchersees]

Who: Sheogorath and YOU?
What: Celebrating Sheogorath's Summoning Day
When: Februrary 2nd
Where: Not sure yet
Warnings: Probably some mentions of violence and blood, more to be added as they occur


What is unusual, when Sheogorath is involved? With him, there's very little that could be considered unheard-of behavior. That being said, sometimes he does things that seem more meant to draw attention than others. For example, right now, he's sitting in the middle of the atrium, cross-legged, with a plate sitting in front of him. Sitting on the plate, in turn, is a picture of a cupcake, scribbled with ballpoint pen on the back of a receipt from a Bric-a-Brac. He's muttering to himself, frequently shifting into different voices, as if he's trying to fill the role of an entire room.

Comments

carrying those cw's forward

[skaikru]

One moment she's sitting in the atrium trying her best at honest and godly prayer, and the next she's digging the nails of one hand into the back of the other in an attempt to scratch that itch. It's deep, it lives deep, it's like it can't be reached but at least in this instant she isn't worrying her thumbnail down to the quick. In the next moment, gnawing her own fingers to bleeding might have been preferable as the entire room begins filling with a swirling cascade of darkness that only registers as blood when her heart drops out of her throat and she remembers the same color is currently pumping through her own veins at heightened speed. Not real, not real — she screams internally, still halfway out of her seat and scrambling up the back of the couch in a vain attempt to keep her own head above water for fear she'd drown in her own blood again. For whatever good it does.

The begging crescendos. The wave crashes.

The atrium blinks back into stark, well-lit view and Clarke is left reeling in a terrified cold sweat. And wondering — if this is godly, do I really want to believe?

But in his own seat across from her, Sheogorath, Prince of Madness sits as if nothing happened. He mumbles, mostly to himself it seems, unbothered and at ease. And while Clarke can parse the words coming from his mouth, she can't quite grasp the concept. "I — what?" she splutters, rattled discomfort folding over on itself to sound downright affronted.

[blindwatchersees]

"You asked for help, little mortal. I've given you insight. Bits and pieces of desperation to examine, which might be from you, or might not be from you. Your blood, or mine? Your fear, or his? A pity you can't seek out my many-armed-unsister quite as directly here. I feel like her talents are best suited to what you seek. But... I think you understand, better than you did before, how desperately you want what you want. Is there anything else you want to say?" There are shadows dancing in his indigo eyes now, tiny images of daggers in the dark.