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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓.

@primordinations.bsky.social

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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · May 10

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Reposted by 𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓.

ㅤㅤ @fromthegallows.bsky.social · 21h

i feel marooned in this body
deserted , my organs can go on without me

𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 46m

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It's going to be one of those days, isn't it...?
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 51m

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A pang of something resembling anguish; a froth of foam in his heart. Trepidation. He should know by now not to become complacent.

He should know that nothing good is meant to stay.
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 9h

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In response, he nods thoughtfully, conjuring up a modest seat for himself beside his son. Staring at the injured teen like the stuck pig on a hook he is.

"I know you can."

He dangles the carrot then, calculating and precise.

"... He usually goes first, doesn't he?"
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 9h

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— Maybe it's been too long. Maybe it's pride. Maybe for once, he just... doesn't have the answer.

"... If the prudy one does not please you now, perhaps it's time to find another? Reinvent yourself."
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 9h

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— that makes Wiggog so cherished... even still, he shakes his head fondly as he approaches the throne.

"You have near boundless potential, my child... why stifle yourself so?"

He reaches a hand out, perhaps to initiate some form of physical comfort, but slowly withdraws it. —
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 9h

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He listens attentively, with his usual brand of joyous stoicism. As he begins to understand the reason for the fit, his eyes close, breathing a heavy sigh of near relief through his nose.

It's like looking in a mirror. A reflection of his younger self. Perhaps it is some sort of narcissism —
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 10h

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If precision were a precipice, you'd have fallen off it ages ago.
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 10h

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... Your brain is as dry as the remained biscuit after voyage.
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 10h

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— Though, he wasn't entirely sure who he was analyzing anymore. The boy in front of him, or something else.

"You would've revisited this, with or without me. No?"

Maybe, maybe not. Maybe his presence made Daniel bolder. Maybe he just wanted a witness. Whatever the case, he'd see it through.
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 10h

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"You kept it close."

Nathaniel commented flatly, clicking his tongue at the sight of the stains. He could piece enough together that it was almost frustrating, trying to place himself in a lesser being's shoes and understand their motivations. —
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 10h

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... Rude.
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 11h

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"I'll be around. Any questions you have, you're welcome to raise them... it will inevitably make its way back to me."

He pauses in his tracks, lifting his chin to the air.

"... There is one thing."
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 14h

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He's flattered!
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𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙖 @felinecravings.bsky.social · 14h

@primordinations.bsky.social

he’s lovely company. smart.

𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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— Inspecting him, much in the same manner a judge might appraise a show dog, but nothing so invasive. When he's satisfied, he nods and slinks in behind the other. Resting his hands on his shoulders, as if it's some foolproof reassurance.

"I only ask that you stay here as long as you need."
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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Nathaniel gave a pleasant, contemplative hum, pretending to consider Eirian's offer for at least a moment.

"If I require payment, I take it up front."

There's something subtly dismissive in his friendly smile, running his thumb over the backs of the other's fingers as he pulls him closer. —
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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— accusation there somewhere, but the more urgent issue might be the smell that hits the teen like a truck.

Like an unholy combination of dead fish and gasoline.
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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— incongruent with the current situation if nothing else– though it's not a yell. Naturally audible, but effortlessly; possessing a soft-spoken quality despite being heard from a fair distance.

"Would you like to lend a hand?"

He points stiffly to the body he's been dragging. There's an —
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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Meeting his gaze was certainly a mistake. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, the god drops his quarry with a sickening grin, locking onto Richie with missile precision even in the relative darkness.

"Hello, young man!"

The voice is almost too chipper to be real. Certainly —
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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— moment, his gaze wandering as his fingers fidget anxiously behind his back; scratching each other, twisting his ring idly.

"... I'm listening."

It's all he can think to say. Trying to relate is... too human. Too painful.
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1 1

𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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— engrossed.

"I remember what fun I had with my avatar, back in the days before we became... inseperable."

His gaze shifts to Richie, hungry and cruel. It's a short-lived mockery, because those gold hues flick back to his offspring just as quick. His smile nearly falters for a —
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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Nathaniel looks on without saying a word or even moving, his demeanor of gentle innocence belying sadistic mirth. He hadn't looked closely at the face, like the teen wasn't even there but for tacky decor.

"Ah."

He nods finally, hands meeting behind himself as he turns to watch, —
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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— wasn't so deeply engrained. For now, he will act as though everything is well and good... leaving it up to Wiggly to decide if he wants to speak openly.
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1 1

𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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— regarding the king of this domain warmly. He turns his attention briefly to the trapped mortal, smiling exuberantly.

"Is this your new pet?"

He approaches, lapsing ever so slightly in his regal gait. He's sensed something off, and would dispense with formality entirely if it —
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𓆃 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. @primordinations.bsky.social · 1d

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The blackness itself seems to stir at once, churning like a vortex of eels– a cacophony of insectoid claws that slowly takes a more familiar shape.

"𝘚𝘰𝘯."

The dark trickles away from the manifested form in thick globs that float up and away and break into oblivion, the god's human visage —
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