singlasses-deactivated20150921 asked ;   { ; ♡♡♡ }

; send a ♡ to hear how my character would tell your character that they loved them without actually using the word ❛ love❜

     It’s a rarity to catch Jack Harper in the flesh. He hides behind blue curtains as a grand parody of Oz. The yellow brick road leads to a False Shepherd by his name & his alone. Illusive Man stands in all his glory. Fingers wind ‘round his clear glass: a crystal goblet for all the world to see. A cigarette dangles there. No rings adorn his fingers. He doesn’t need them to assert his power. Smoke masks his face, disguising the rough lines of age. Life hardened him, humanity hardened him so much that he fell for humankind. He’s become a diamond, crystal cut. If you dare to touch him, you’ll B L E E D.

    There’s an old song that plays in his head, a type of howling that infects the soul with clairvoyant madness. It’s the hum of old machines. This will be Jack Harper’s undoing. Poor fool thought he could save himself. Had the scientist not been enthralled, he would have laughed at this mortal’s fall.

     A man in black is the Pale Rider incarnate. He’s there – watching, waiting. Shades hide the supernatural quality of his eyes: eyes so red they’ll ignite a fire in even the coldest of hearts. The Devil reanimated doesn’t drink because he has to, but he wants to. Brandy rolls ‘cross his tongue. Bittersweet. Albert Wesker wears a golden crown upon his head. A never-ending game begins, as immortal as the serpent that nibbles its tail. When he walks, he glides. Dripping in black, his suit whispers the song of ancient Gods. Of old triumphs & successes. His blood is divine, preserving him for centuries to come. Faux-humanity is this tyrant’s dress with a calculated madness that stomps on Emperor Caligula’s tarnished image.

     Golden man rolls his head, full of smooth movements. He is liquid grace, he is fluidity anew. Mere inches away, his half-smile seems to say: ‘ I can be your God, Jack. I can be ETERNITY. ‘ Jack laughs & sips his whiskey fix, a terrible hollowness spreading from within. Mesmerized, he’s been robbed of speech. This FALCON, this SERPENT { blasted, damned CHIMERA }, has taken everything from HIM! The Illusive Man clamps a hand down on the broad shoulder, muscular despite the confines of clothing. He feels a raw, hellish heat there that threatens to scourge him.  Fingers { skilled from years of pulling the trigger } curl sharper than talons. He worships in reverence through touch. His hand glides across the expanse of the God King’s back, searching { for what ? }. Yes, the Morning Star is b e a u t i f u l, but humanity is not meant to be blessed by such savage beauty. It leads to corruption. He feels for wings that are not there.