How many souls will fall from the sky

[zipperlips]

Who: Kurloz/Jack Jeckel/Undertaker
What: The streets of Vatheon are no safe place to wander late at night.
When: Late at night on Wednesday.
Where: A side street somewhere in the bubble.
Status: Open!
Style: Prose to start, but I'll follow you.


This week, it's easy to get into trouble, wandering the streets of Vatheon late at night. Any law-abiding citizens would surely have gone to their homes by now, to avoid the dangers of being stuck in a crime-infested city at night. This particular street is almost deserted, though there is one particular pedestrian who seems entirely unconcerned with where he is, and what time it is. Maybe it has something to do with the way he's dressed, a full skeleton costume, including a skull painted onto his face.

Maybe it has to do with the skull he carries in one hand. Is it a model? Maybe. But it certainly looks real. And the way his eyes linger on everyone that passes by... there's something unsettling about him, something's just off. Whatever the case, this man doesn't seem like the type you want to look in the eye.

Comments

[redboots]

The young woman coming down the other end of the street almost looks like a saint in comparison to him, with half of her head shaved completely and the rest of it a long tangled black mess. The leather vest with spikes on it and her tattered jeans definitely say a little more of her character- maybe she's not someone who scares easily.

Okay, make that definitely not, because she seems to stretch her mouth in a wide sharp grin filled with teeth once she's close enough to talk to the strange troll without having to yell on this quiet street.

"You smell like dead people." She taps her nose coyly. "Kinda familiar with that." Being the heiress to an alternate hellish dimension made her familiar with a lot of unpleasant things, but in this city, that experience comes in handy.

[zipperlips]

Oh? This is curious. Even when not in the middle of acts of villainy, people tend to avoid him. The vibe he gives off just drives most away. Except for people like Gamzee who have heads full of bricks in addition to being dead. Maybe it's that smell of the dead on him.

Beneath the stitches, his mouth twitches into a grin. He doesn't open it to speak, but a voice comes out nevertheless, a hissing, dry voice for the ears of the dead and the undead. "Ain't that just a motherfucking miracle?>/i>"

[redboots]

Avoidance is for cowards and people who don't know how to have fun. Marceline considers herself neither, and thus throws herself into reckless situations with gleeful abandon.

Vatheon may have Marceline thinking she's all demon, and restricted her powers and given her a new one, but it hasn't changed the fundamental fact that.. Yeah, she's undead. So she hears that strange whispering voice that makes her think of dark things back home and just grins all the wider, fangs resting on her lips. "The real miracle will be if you're not boring and manage to be a challenge. Or do you just like rolling around in graves?" Weirder things have happened in this city, after all.

[zipperlips]

The grin only widens. "Ain't you interesting. Motherfuck, smellsis, what rolled you out of yours? Never met one already up and walking what could hear me." He's leaning in, using his height to his advantage as he examines her. He can't think of any reason other than death that would allow someone to hear him, not after what he did to himself, but he's never encountered walking dead that weren't his or Gamzee's work. He's almost inclined to ask who raised her, but she isn't acting much like any of his zombies.

[redboots]

Stupid tall people. Marceline is pretty tall and lanky herself, but this guy really has her beat. Still, she holds herself up tall, not backing down even a little bit. "Don't see why I should tell you," she shoots back. "How do you plan on figuring it out?" Please tell her a fight. She's itching for one.

[zipperlips]

Being a troll can do that. He doesn't bother changing his stance, even with her standing up proud, because he doesn't need much effort in order to loom dramatically. His answer might be disappointing to her, despite his practically threatening stance. "I was all planning to ask nice, but a sister got her secrets all up over that motherfucker." He shrugs. "So maybe I'll play it honking near and dear and call for a little miracle trade."