Jump to content

proximity to corpses

  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won


proximity to corpses last won the day on July 7 2013

proximity to corpses had the most liked content!


About proximity to corpses

  • Rank

Contact Methods

  • Yahoo

Profile Information

  • Occupation
    Spatiotemporal Mage

Recent Profile Visitors

3,310 profile views
  1. Thank-you sai! I will be sure to brush up on the very helpful guides of the site. It is nice to be back.
  2. I want to get really good at writing but feel I might need help. I came here through the advice of several friends. Hello.
  3. Good seeing you float around, corpses or otherwise 

  4. Hell on Wheels. Because Anson Mount is legit.
  5. Pretty much how I felt about it as well.
  6. I paid 40 bucks to get Dishonored Complete. Currently on a very chaos filled play-through of the first Dishonored. Fucking rats man, fucking rats.
  7. B which is on Netflix hasn't been terrible for the few episodes I caught.
  8. Godless, again. Something about Jeff Daniels as a villain in the old west sits nicely with me.
  9. I am doing the opposite of this. I am devoting too much time to Monster Hunter World.
  10. Notations became scribbles that bore semblance to insanity. The sigil that lay before the Crithe was his entire focus, it had consumed both hand and eyes; it was all that mattered. In his obsessive study he took pencil to paper, page after page filled in the hastened state—nothing must be forgotten. In his obsession he ignored the pain slowly sprouting at his heart, pulsation along his chest. Instead he focused on the design, the concept and the hiding spot of such a relic; gently poking at the object with the end of pencil. All this time it was with him? A simple question, the answer obvious as it was the Ogre that handed it over, almost without concern for what it meant. Perhaps that was the nature of their friendship? Continuously his hand scratched the pencil against the paper, daring the point to break, daring the very notebook to catch on fire from the furious nature of his thought. Again the pain swept. And again the youth ignored it in favor of his desire. Tip traced his lips slowly as he pondered all that was wrote, the simple image burned into his head, one he had seen and one he wore―the Council. It was at this moment did the pencil descend, bouncing twice before rolling under the desk. Auberon’s hand snapped sharply upon his chest, first rubbing at the pain and then tearing at it. Suddenly thoughts of sigils and his Father vanished as the pain nearly doubled him over where he sat. In that instance his tearing became frantic as the Eternalist tore the very shirt from his body, leaving discarded chunks of cloth scattered about his chair. There the source came to light, four circles tattooed upon his breast in the shape of a diamond. They would hum pulsating and shaking him to his core, each resonated with a different hue. Groaning Auberon’s fingers pressed delicately to them, twisting against them faintly before finally pushing inward, his fingers vanishing beneath this flesh. Unexpectedly they hit a solid object, wrapping slowly around it before withdrawing in a careful and deliberate fashion. A wound without blood laid open on the youth’s chest and within his hand a single, large cube. It filled the palm that held it and gave off a soft azure glow. Curiously the Crithe looked it over and without knowing how, he simply knew the source. Remind me to thank you, Father. Turning it over in his hand he would admire all sides before going to set it on the desk, the wound slowly closing and the markings beginning to reverberate less and less. Yet, likewise curious, before the cube would come into contact with the desk it would vanish into a series of smaller cubes before dissipating into the air, bringing the sigil with it. “So much for a good night of sleep, eh?” And with that Auberon sought the comfort of his notebook, there was much more to write.
  11. A half hearted wave was the dismissive weapon of choice for the Eternalist. As comrades departed and patrons began to fill, swelling the establishment with their presence, the youth merely sat with a gaze fixed upon the center of his glass. Lost to his self for the time being Auberon was able to finally and fully process the events of the night, slouching against the chair as he pondered. It, like the rapping of his fingers, began simply enough. Admittedly pleased to hear they would depart in the morning, the town had hardly grown on him; something the youth was thankful for. Another sip, another fleeting thought as his mind raced to the tingle that had finally faded from his hand. The temporal itch that sparked the moment he touched the hilt. What was that? A question without an answer, without the need for one as Auberon sipped once more, the glass nearly empty; it would be the last one and he would savor it. The room continued to swell Auberon made his way naturally to the thought that had been eagerly chopping away at the back of his mind—his Father, of course. As his fingers ceased their tapping he would withdraw the sigil from the best pocket of his jacket. A ponderous thought, a series of questions began to hammer throughout the expansive mind of the young Crithe. This is all I need? All I needed was here the entire time. Dropping the sigil it rained upon the table, a comet with his gaze place firmly at the tail. It was in this moment did he sigh, all at once everything clashed and as promised, he pocketed once more the sigil. With a curled lip his hand brought the glass for the final time to his lips. Leaving behind a small tip and half a glass, he would take the advice of his elder. It was to his room he would retire.
  12. ^this, but only because I was using it as a replacement to YIM in regards to keeping or rather getting back in touch with people after so long. So not being able to do that semi-regularly will take some adjustment again, as, it can sometimes take me weeks to complete a single post due to a hectic real life and it is almost nothing to have an app open, pop in for a bit and then peace on the quick. However, as someone who understands the desire to make it more 'for those who are using the site for what it is for' (etc) I have no complaints and actually think the idea is a pretty solid one, and wish it the best of luck on being used for that, even if it means I won't be in it anymore, sadly.
  13. “―but we both understand your desire to be with Astaai.” Truer words had not been uttered to Auberon before, at least, not in present company. Yet fearing the stammer he felt budding in his throat, he sat in silence. It was this moment of silence that was disguised as clarity, semblance of escape lay before the trembling hands of the Crithe. As fingers slowly reached, daring to the breach the air, towards the symbol bore by the Durandal, Auberon felt his body quiver; not unlike when Charmaine uncovered Joyeuse. For what felt like an eternity the Eternalist sat in this silence, absently ignoring the arrival of food despite the way it hung about his nose, absently ignoring the harmonic voice of Charmaine. A laughter sparked sudden bravery, his fingers collapsed downward over the sigil as he withdrew it from the table, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket before smiling faintly. Auberon had found his sword and as he usher Charmaine, it would be kept from the view of others; while he sought he his father for his own greed, others might seek him too. Perhaps it was in that did the Councilor find his desire to hide, even from kin. And so the youth finally spoke, “I—thank you. You remain as extraordinary as they say, rather, as he always said.” Keeping the faint smirk on his face, he took a moment to sip from his drink, moments after it was refilled and replaced before him. “And you are right, both of you, I have no personal obligation to either of you. Yet—“ Another sip, his face dropping its smirk, solemn as the hand that only moments ago trembled at the sight of his father’s symbol, lifted to trace the one sewn to his own breast. “My father, nor I for that matter, would rest well if I simply. If you would have me, still, I would like to see where this sword goes a bit longer.” Another sip, slowly he found the will to smile again.
  14. As the Durandal approached the table, the focus of the Crithe shifted; banter dissipated into a haze that eventually drifted into nothingness. A faint smile as he adjusted himself so, allowing the duo before him to land center of his gaze, just above the rim of his glass. The final, or nearly that, sip of his drink seemed to be where the potency laid, his lip curled and he withdrew the mug from his lips. It was in this moment did he discern the shift in the Eternal before him—his apologetic tone masked the tax he paid for the information he mentioned, while Charmaine spoke; Auberon remained silent. It was unneeded, the apology, they should seek his forgiveness for not taking part in such an ideal. As the youth sought the words of comfort, he found himself suddenly derailed by such a simple question: What have you been up to past couple months? Something. Nothing. Everything. A hand familiar with chilled glass absently rubbed the back of his head as he bowed it gently. “I have been seeking my Father, actually.” A pause, it seemed foolish, yet he continued, “He set out a bit ago in search of something—he wouldn’t tell me. And as time drew on, he stopped writing and eventually has sort of vanished. I heard he took up farming or something someplace? I don’t know, but it is clear he wishes to be left alone.” Perhaps the child should respect this? The Eternal he called Father had well earned his peace, his time served to the land would be recalled in hymns and tales; yet the boy could not simply forget. “Regardless he has recently sent word after all of this time, something seemed, uh—off. I have been trying to track him down but, well, you guys have never made it easy to find you when you wished to be a ghost.” A sigh as he noticeable sank in his chair, the idea of failing weighed him down, an Atlas to the tableside. “I see, or rather, assume you have been well?” A deflection, Auberon could ramble on about his Father until the sun rose two days pass, had he the chance. It was best for him to move on, for now.
  15. As a hand slide beneath the table, the tremble had to be hidden for it was not stopped, his gaze ophidian; it was all he could do to take his focus from the table—from the sword. As he peered slowly about the inn his mind, like Charmaine’s, was left to wander absently. While she sought answers to sword and cause, he sought answers to kin and kith. It was an allowance he had let slide, which had grown and birthed the obsession to find that which he hardly knew. His Father. It was the soft voice, a whisper to the static of patronage, which brought his attention back, bowing his head softly as he tightened his hand, subduing the shake momentarily. “Oh, you must forgive me, I meant no insult. I am sadly unaccustomed to the nature of nobles or rather, I suppose, nobles who are as highborn as those who inhabit such a city.” Pausing to sip slowly on his drink, “I am sure the city is proper and wonderful, should I come merely to visit with the avoidance of people.” Auberon’s tongue stammered and then stilled, fearful of potential or further insult, he would continue after another shallow sip. “I wish I could mirror that love for home, sadly, of what my father was able to provide in our fleeting time, a stable home was not on the agenda. I suppose I know of a place and feel as such for it, however, it is not a true home.” Releasing his glass his finger lightly brushed along the edge of his breast placed sigil. It was true, he had neither official home nor place he would call his own when this quest and his quest had ended. Inns that owed favor to the highest of councils kept a room here and there, nothing more. It was when her lips murmured the name of the Silver Ogre did his attention break, once more pulled from the depths of himself, smiling and offering a wave. A small note was made in the back of Auberon’s head: When this is over, ask him.
  • Create New...