Death/Grim Reaper/Azrael (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
transitioner) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kismet_loop_logs2014-12-14 01:35 pm
transitioner) wrote in kismet_loop_logs2014-12-14 01:35 pm
But that is not for them to decide...
Who: Yet-Unknown Death and OPEN
What: An entity stalks the streets of Haven
Where: All over the city...no, really, All. Over. - this entity does not know boundaries. Or personal spaces. You could encounter it in your apartment, even.
When: Any time mid-November to now
Warnings: Surprisingly, perhaps? None, really, but what you bring with you. Possibly general talk of death and mortality
Notes: Replies to tags will come whenever I can. Still no computer of my own, not for at least another week (and then we're looking at Xmas o.o). Just that I'd meant to put this up as soon as the event was over, since technically THAT would have been back in early November.
A smoky, curling mass of shifting blacks and deep greys crawls through Haven. Night or day, this mass might be encountered. Sometimes, it coalesces into the shape of a common black house cat, albeit a slightly large one. Its eyes are crimson red and, if met, will gaze back at a person with a sense of ageless intelligence. Those who had been kidnapped will surely remember this being.
Encountering either the mass or the cat will induce the same reactions. They're not insurmountable or even unignorable, but one would have to work at it at least a first. There's a dread, a sense of mortality, like walking through a graveyard, that seems to cling around the entity, or emanate from it - it's hard to tell. There's a chill that goes straight to the bones, or the struts on a Cybertronian. Also any Cybertronian - or other mechanoid, such a BP unit - will likely even have a hard time "looking" at the being. Sensors will fritz and error, unable to comprehend the utter null. An utter null with a clearly defined edge, like someone cut a hole in space itself.
What is this being? What does it want? Should it even be here?
Most people on the street avoid it, are even afraid of it, but . . . few seem actually surprised by it, like they know it's a thing that exists in the city. Some with even greet it - with or without fear is an individual affair. But . . . that's the thing, not all do fear it. One old man even seems to argue with the cat, though the conversation is far enough away that the words won't be discernible. If asked what it is, the answers range from fearful "do not speak of it" to wry "trust me, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Who's curious enough - and brave enough - to face the dark?
What: An entity stalks the streets of Haven
Where: All over the city...no, really, All. Over. - this entity does not know boundaries. Or personal spaces. You could encounter it in your apartment, even.
When: Any time mid-November to now
Warnings: Surprisingly, perhaps? None, really, but what you bring with you. Possibly general talk of death and mortality
Notes: Replies to tags will come whenever I can. Still no computer of my own, not for at least another week (and then we're looking at Xmas o.o). Just that I'd meant to put this up as soon as the event was over, since technically THAT would have been back in early November.
A smoky, curling mass of shifting blacks and deep greys crawls through Haven. Night or day, this mass might be encountered. Sometimes, it coalesces into the shape of a common black house cat, albeit a slightly large one. Its eyes are crimson red and, if met, will gaze back at a person with a sense of ageless intelligence. Those who had been kidnapped will surely remember this being.
Encountering either the mass or the cat will induce the same reactions. They're not insurmountable or even unignorable, but one would have to work at it at least a first. There's a dread, a sense of mortality, like walking through a graveyard, that seems to cling around the entity, or emanate from it - it's hard to tell. There's a chill that goes straight to the bones, or the struts on a Cybertronian. Also any Cybertronian - or other mechanoid, such a BP unit - will likely even have a hard time "looking" at the being. Sensors will fritz and error, unable to comprehend the utter null. An utter null with a clearly defined edge, like someone cut a hole in space itself.
What is this being? What does it want? Should it even be here?
Most people on the street avoid it, are even afraid of it, but . . . few seem actually surprised by it, like they know it's a thing that exists in the city. Some with even greet it - with or without fear is an individual affair. But . . . that's the thing, not all do fear it. One old man even seems to argue with the cat, though the conversation is far enough away that the words won't be discernible. If asked what it is, the answers range from fearful "do not speak of it" to wry "trust me, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Who's curious enough - and brave enough - to face the dark?
no subject
"...Good afternoon." Keeping it together, she presses her lips into a flat line.
"Who are you?"
Haha oops, wrong tag 9,9
DIFFICULT FOR SOME PEOPLE TO COMPREHEND, MORESO FOR PEOPLE TO ACCEPT, USUALLY. WHICH IS UNFORTUNATE, BUT IT IS PART OF…HUMAN NATURE. As this isn't spoken so much as simply "understood", Elsa might feel that she comprehended the intention as "human" because her language has no really good equivalent, but in reality what was "said" encompasses all intelligent races and species. IT IS NOT MY INTENTION TO THREATEN OR FRIGHTEN YOU. I AM ONE OF THE GUARDIANS OF THIS CITY. I AM AN ASPECT OF THE BALANCE BETWEEN ORDER AND CHAOS. I HAVE BEEN GIVEN MANY NAMES OVER THE AGES AND ACROSS EXISTENCE. YOU WOULD KNOW ME AS THE GRIM REAPER. The cat shrugs a shoulder. THE ASPECT THAT SERVES IN THIS PLACE AND TIME.
If it helps? It doesn't sound terribly grim. Matter-of-fact if anything.
no subject
Fight the urge. It doesn't need petting, not if it might hurt you.Her brows knit, and the sensation is unusual, but not misunderstood. It feels like something of higher understanding clicks in her brain. Oh. Like an epiphany.
"You're Death." she murmurs. She's no longer fearful, after all. Death in her culture often presented itself as a man or a woman, never a cat.
She's more bewildered than anything.
"I don't suppose I could call you by any other name?"
no subject
If she petted it, she would just find that it purrs like any normal cat. Death isn't adverse to physical contact, after all. Guilty pleasure...I AM. AND YOU MAY CALL ME WHATEVER BEST SUITS YOU. NAMES ARE MORE FOR THE BENEFIT OF IDENTITY AND CLARITY OF THE ONE SPEAKING THAN THE ONE BEING SPOKEN TO OR OF. FOR MYSELF, I HAVE NO PREFERENCES.
no subject
Okay. She'll bite. Leaning down, she'll offer her hand.
ANNA'S NEVER GONNA BELIEVE THIS"And just 'Cat' won't do either. It's rude."
no subject
Oooooh, the cat's head and shoulders come back up off the pavement, head pressing into the offered hand.
Yep, guilty pleasure.no subject
"Azrael will do much better than Death." Continued cat-spoiling.
"And you just wander around? Among all, and no notice is taken?"
no subject
no subject
[ She supposed it made sense...Eerie, but it did. ]
I'd never known death to make itself so easily available for a chat.
[ It was sort of funny, she quirks a smile full of amusement. ]
I'll pay closer attention from now on.