dishonored meme

[wolfofdunwall]

***

a dishonored meme

'ever since the empress died, it's been getting darker in dunwall. but it's that moment just before the light goes that matters most of all.'

the isles are caught amid fractious days, and you find yourself living among them. perhaps - probably - you’ve lived here all your life. perhaps you’ve been brought here by some magical means. whatever the case, you’ve made or will make a life among the isles.

if you were born in or around the isles, what’s your lot in life? are you nobility? a person of great means? a member of the city watch? a shipmate? an inventor? perhaps a civilian just trying to make your way through the rat plague. perhaps a thief, a gang member, an assassin. perhaps a witch or a devotee of the outsider, or perhaps an overseer, scourge of the occult.

when you comment, add a little bit about who your character is in the dishonored world. what your occupation is (if you have one), what you think about recent events, what you tend to do with your days. (if you want to give multiple options re: who they are, feel free!)

you might also want to offer some prompts: scenario ideas, picture prompts, quotes, words, whatever you like.

Comments

[excultro]

[ His breath's a little too sharp now, his muscles drawn tense against the spate of self-defense and the sudden shattering of the skulls, against envisionings of what damage might next follow. He'd been ready to attempt a leap out of the way of the skulls. Had been ready to attempt a leap at Mitsuhide if necessary, half-thinking how best to draw a blade across the man's throat, thinking whether it'd be swifter and more certain to dagger him through the chest. Only that hadn't proven necessary, and Daud feels partly sick over his own thoughts; it's the old instinct kicking in, it's self-preservation, but he hasn't been so close to drawing death in years. Hasn't felt how easy it'd be to bring about an ending, his hands once more bathed in blood.

He doesn't like this man. (If this is a man, a human. If this isn't some half-wreck, total wretch withdrawn from whatever humanity he may once have possessed. What's happened to the earth, now bubbling? What curse had been contained within that letter? And what kind of magic is it that this man possesses?) He doesn't care for what Mitsuhide draws out in him, or the acts that he necessitates. And so Daud glowers, adjusting his grip on his dagger, telling himself to put the weapon away, shove aside the temptation to silence this bastard. Finally sheathes the dagger, eyes fixed on Mitsuhide. ]

I don't think so.

[ Meaning he won't be offering even the ghost of a laugh. Meaning he doesn't intend to let Mitsuhide split his sides one way or another, if that's what the moonstruck bastard has in mind.

Mitsuhide's been enjoying himself. The giggling, the declarations, that obscene smile all suggest as much, though to Daud's eye - to anyone's eye, he'd warrant - it's a warped sort of pleasure. Exulting in panic and pain. Relishing the very scent of blood (and yes, yes, Daud's bleeding now, can feel five or six or seven wounds where the skulls bit sharp).

Daud can feel his teeth gritting together. Feels the telltale gathering of tension at the back of his jaw, the beginning grind of a headache. ]

What do you mean by this.

[veryhuman]

Oh, very well... you may keep your laughter to yourself.

[ His bleeding hand pulls back as he assumes Daud is the kind that would not want to share his merry giggling over jokes with one such as himself. ]

Ah, dear, if I keep bleeding I might end up collapsing... one moment, please, one moment. [ A series of chuckles passes his lips as he turns his arm over to see the wound still bleeding. To anyone else's eyes, it is a shallow cut and should not still run red. Rotating his arm one way and the other, he shakes his wrist a little like there is a cramp in his hand. And the wound immediately closes as he breaks the curse he put on himself. ]

What do I mean by this? [ Lifting his hand to his chin, he pinches it between two fingers as he tilts his head. He is attempting to take a pose that he thinks Daud would like and that Daud, himself, has posed in. Look, Mitsuhide says in his actions, I am pretending to think like you think. ] Hm ... let's see... what could I mean by this?

[ He giggles at how Daud is trying so hard to hold back his laughter! He giggles because that is obviously what the tension in his jaw. He giggles because the two of them are now properly sharing a joke together and he looks away to laugh. ] Ah, what could I possibly mean?

[excultro]

[ Mitsuhide. Mitsuhide. Look at this man. Does he appear particularly prone to giggles??

And by the Void. By the fucking Void, it's like talking to - being talked at by - the Outsider himself. The questions without answer, suggestions toward some meaning that only the speaker can perceive. Daud didn't ask for this. Daud absolutely didn't ask for this (though if it's the cost of keeping this bastard away from Xu Shu, he'll accept it; after all, he's been prepared for this breed of periphrastic speaking, if not for the floating skulls).

A question to consider is what kind of magic this man possesses. It's nothing Daud's ever seen before, nor does it sign of the Void. Whatever, whoever Mitsuhide is, he controls powers that evade Daud's knowing. Where he'd gotten them is a mystery. What he can do with them is an unsettling idea. ]

I don't care for riddles. And I'm not one for guessing.

You should have sent your letter.

[ There's a quiet thought, growing the longer he watches this strange excuse for a man. If Mitsuhide's bent their agreement so far as to speak his letter rather than sending it through the mail, what else might he have twisted? Right now, the thought's barely discernible, but with each quirk of Mitsuhide's, it speaks just a little stronger. ]

[veryhuman]

Perhaps? Perhaps. But that would infect the messenger. [ He pulls his hand away from his face to gesture toward the bubbling liquid at their feet. ] You may not have found it so humorous if the messenger were to attempt to kill you instead of skulls tugging playfully at your limbs.

"Do not kill the messenger." That is what even I know. If I send a letter laced with my blood, it would most definitely get the messenger killed. [ He giggles, mouth closed but lips curl up into a smile. ] I would have liked to see what would have happened if you touched it, though. [ His eyes lift up towards the sky. ] Our magic does not mix well. His is very old, but mine is... [ He squints at a cloud, tilting his head. ]

But no magic ever mixes well with others. They don't like to play well with one another. [ A click of his tongue. ] You're already marked and so if I successfully marked you... I may end up being scolded for it? [ His voice lifts as he turns the statement into a question. He tilts his head the other way, eyes still focusing on a cloud's shape. ]

If I was scolded, would your heart feel lighter in your chest? Or would it sink into your stomach? [ Mitsuhide smiles. It is filled with a sickness that cannot be described. ]

But you had a question for me... could you be more specific with it? "What do I mean by this." I have a lot of reasons and a lot of "this." So if you could narrow it down... I will answer your question.

[excultro]

Try writing in ink.

[ None of this bodes well.

This talk about and these signs of blood-laced letters bound with magic. This talk of murderous messengers, of scolding. This talk of mixing magic. And why is this bastard fuck talking about the Outsider. Daud feels himself turning cold, a little nauseous at the core. Feels his shoulders gathering into tension

'I would have liked to see what would have happened if you touched it.' 'If I successfully marked you.' 'What would have happened if you touched it.' 'If I.' 'If I.'

The man means him harm; that much has been clear and is only becoming more evident. What's drawn Mitsuhide's interest is unclear. Whether Mitsuhide wants something specific with Daud is also unclear. And there are plenty of questions to be asked, but one in particular strains to make itself known. When Daud speaks, the words come almost impulsively, a sentiment he can't contain. ]

I have no interest in being marked.

[ Once was enough. Once was more than enough. There's a cold fury - distant but sharp - in his eyes. There's calculation, a moment's pause. ]

You've marked others. [ It's almost a question. ] What marking do you leave.

[ It's one question of many; a place to start. ]

[veryhuman]

I should. It is much more polite.

[ He giggles, shoulders hunching as his hand presses over his mouth to cover up his laughter. Mitsuhide makes a small noise -- thoughtful, amused -- as he pulls his hand away to see that he accidentally smeared his own blood on his face. It only makes him laugh more. ]

Ah, I really forgot how messy that is. I honestly forgot. [ Even though he speaks softer, seemingly talking to himself, his tone is that of a child attempting to convince an adult of a lie. Lilting, obviously deceptive to the point it is laughable. But once more, he is the only one laughing. ]

Ah? Nothing that can be seen. [ He lifts his hand to wave it, brushing away the question. ] The body is already ... [ His head turns slightly like he hears something behind him. His gaze becomes distant as his mouth parts just a little. ]

The marks I leave are upon the soul. Yes, it is beyond the flesh. Far beyond it. You have seen it already, haven't you? [ He returns his gaze back to Daud, lips pressed together like he may start laughing again soon. ] Those skulls. They were once living men. They had to be! You can't just summon a skull from nothing! Did you think I did? You are so silly!

[ His head is thrown back to laugh at the very idea that there are just headless abominations that he can call upon. ] The body comes along later. But I don't do much until the body is dead. It isn't nice to. Not nice at all. So, I just give the spirit reason. After all, every spirit has a little bit of madness in it.

[ He smiles. ] Once their celebration is over, they can join the others. It would be sad, after all, if they were all by themselves. Don't you agree? Very sad, indeed. I am not so cruel as to discard them once their bodies have been hacked to pieces. Right? You agree that would be rude, right?

[ Indeed, it is in his mind just a little curse to drive the soul mad. In its madness, it may end up with the body being torn apart by those that wish to stop bloodshed. Sometimes, the person can break out of it themselves. Sometimes, others are able to shake them out of their madness. But to those whose bodies become ruined and bloody messes, he will happily collect what remains. ]