☈ 008 ☇ Voice

[milkboned]

You think I'm gonna stay down here? Can't even see the sun from this hellhole. -- Don't say it.

I don't give a shit about who belongs where -- though if you're gonna complain about it, it's too late, you should've lead a better life, assholes.

Aaaah, this whole thing pisses me off. High and mighty bastards, high and mighty god, the hell makes him

Comments

[bladed_siberian]

Kill them anyway.

1/2

[milkboned]

[thinking about it...]

[milkboned]

If I see them, they're dead.

[bladed_siberian]

Enjoy yourself. Double points if they have wings.

[valentineluke]

*sighs*

[milkboned]

....

[seekinghead]

[The clattering of hooves, the rhythmic grind of carriage wheels on street is the first sign of her coming- before the dullahan, the headless horse driving her carriage on which she's seated, pulls to a halt with a flick of the reigns beside Shizuo.

The dullahan- demon- dullahan... it doesn't really matter, does it, looks down to him. Or at least, it must seem that way, body twisting to face him, and to allow the head in the crook of her elbow to see him as well. The head is mostly covered by a cowl, only lower half clearly visible- but surely it's looking at him.

Since it opens it's mouth to speak.]

Shizuo... ? Will you not be joining the battle?

[Her place is not that battle, either- she only calls to the dead and takes them where they belong.]

[milkboned]

[A familiar sound, one that has him stopping in his tracks, turning toward the street before the carriage comes into sight.

She looks down, or seems to, and he looks up, at both head and body.]

Celty. [and, as only really happens with the dullahan, the gravel in his voice is less pronounced.]

Eh... if it comes to me, I'll get involved.

[seekinghead]

I see.

[Later, she won't be able to remember... how this voice sounds, whether it was like she remembered of if it was only how she imagines her voice sounds in her head. But for now, it's just how it is, and she thinks nothing of it. (After all- she's always had this head. Hasn't she?)]

And where do you go now?

[The horse pawed the ground, a dark, smoky snort coming from where it's neck cut off abruptly, wreathing around the ornate iron faceplate that gave the illusion it might be a whole being.]

[milkboned]

I don't know.

[Just walking, only walking, taking in the sun on his skin. He isn't going nowhere, exactly, but he doesn't have a destination in mind either. Something in his blood or whatever runs through his veins urges him, through aggressive instinct, toward conflict, wherever it's closest.

Maybe he'll give in; Celty's a grounding force. He exhales through his nose, steam through his nostrils.]

Are you collecting? [When isn't she? But, if she had a soul this moment, she wouldn't be with him.]

+VOICE+

[commendmy]

Creature, see that this pit you stay in was crafted by your hand.

+VOICE+

[milkboned]

Who the hell are you?

+VOICE+

[commendmy]

I am I. A messenger of penitence. A hand of justice. A voice of truth.

1/2

[milkboned]