dead, but dreaming

askthomasraith:

askthearchive:

Ivy screamed when the bodies started flying, but the cool, detached Archive part of her mind took over, and before she knew it she had thrown up a small shield. A few splintered legs, of both the ‘chair’s and ‘human’ varieties, bounced off it and hit the ground before her.

Then, all of a sudden, light. Bright orange flame, shot through with the same silver that had shone in Uriel’s eyes. Soulfire. The familiar voice that accompanied it made Ivy’s heart leap. Harry was here.

Kincaid was talking. Telling her it was time to clear out. Yes, that was a good idea. Putting her shield down, Ivy stepped out from behind the overturned table where Kincaid had hidden her and moved toward a more open area of floor. On her way her foot landed on something that squelched and a whimper escaped her. At least it was too dark for her to see exactly what she’d stepped on.

With a word and a gesture, she opened a doorway between the worlds in the middle of the restaurant. “Hurry!” she called. “I don’t want to keep this open any longer than I have to! In!” This part of the Nevernever, she knew, normally wasn’t a dangerous one, and she hoped with everything in her that it stayed that way tonight. “Harry! You too!”

Thomas dove behind a table, avoiding as much of the gore as possible, though flinching as some still splattered on him. He’d seen as bad before, but it never got easier to handle, or any less unpleasant. And then, out of nowhere, his brother appeared, and he had never been as glad to see Harry as he was in that moment.

He stood up, swallowing against his stomach’s protests at the sheer amount of shredded person he was trying, and failing, not to step on. As the portal to the Nevernever opened he made his way toward it as quickly as he dared, trying not to slip on any of the meat and blood on the floor.

He spotted, or rather heard, Butters by the bar, and changed course slightly, grabbing both the mortician and the gun on the floor when he got there, half-dragging half-carrying him toward the Nevernever.

fire.

light. burning. silver burning.

stop.

STOP.

the shadow dropped briefly with a roar of pain. the fire wouldn’t get off. it never got off. it clung like an insect parasitewouldn’t get off and the wizard did it AGAIN

NOT A̡̤̬ͭͫͅG͓͙̜̮̳̤͉̽ͪ͐ͩ̅A̢̜̩͉̠̽̈́̈I͈̥͔Ṋ̺̗͔̞ͨ̈

covered in soulflame he threw himself toward those attempting to escape and formless limbs reaching out to GRABANDBREAKTHEM douse the flame in blood and maybe WIZARD would think TWICE

a gut-wrenching roar like thunder tore the air as the burning Outsider grabbed and ripped everything in its path to them while their coward backs were turned

(Source: he-who-walks)

askthomasraith:

askthearchive:

askkincaid:

*When things become serious, Kincaid focuses on the task at hand, no amount of flashy maneuvers will be enough to keep everyone on the same page*

*Still crouched behind the table* *Speaking towards Marcones general area* In my opinion, theres two things going down here. 1) The outsider is here for a fight and the best way to handle it would be to wait for him to make the first move. Let him be careless and then we all give it everything we have.

*Heavily sighing* Or 2) Which seems to be the better of the two options, The outsiders in the never never were a distraction to get Uriel away from the party. Leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves while quite possibly HWWB can open up another rift and pour in the enemies.

My comments on opening a rift behind us was so we would all stick together, and now were seperated.

*Cracking some industrial glow sticks and tossing them in the direction the stench is coming from*

Thats where we focus. If Uriel dosent come back shortly we take another rift out, Ivy has a good idea of the way we need to go.

Happy Birthday indeed Ms. Carpenter, seems like your quite the popular lady..

Ivy felt safer near Kincaid, but only barely. The little lights blinking on around them—the candles, the glow sticks, her and Molly’s spells—were still not enough to illuminate whatever was in the restaurant with them.

“I agree,” she whispered to her bodyguard, “that getting Uriel into the Nevernever may work to the Outsider’s advantage. But I doubt it has reinforcements waiting to attack us. You remember the last time it came around; it hardly needs assistance.”

She spoke a little louder, to the others. “If we can, we should wait for the archangel to return. If he doesn’t, and if the Outsider comes for us here, I can open a Way to get us out—so stay close and be ready. Even if Uriel was right about things on the other side, I would rather face them than this thing…”

Thomas ignited the last of the candles on the table and shoved the box of matches in his pocket, after all, you never knew when matches would come in handy. It was still dark in the room though, too dark for it just to be a lack of light. Even without the light from the candles and other light sources he should be able to see, but the corners of the room were shrouded in darkness, and shadows flickered between the tables. He had to wonder for a moment if this was how everyone else, other than Kincaid of course, saw the room, or if they saw even less.

He made his way back toward the others, whoever was nearest. He found that, in a complete turn-around of his feelings earlier in the evening, he didn’t want to stray too far from the group, or from the light, because he knew what kind of things hid in dark corners, and the thought sent a chill up his spine.

If only Harry were here, he thought. He’d know what to do.

But no sense in wishing for something that wasn’t a reality. “I agree with Ivy. Whatever’s in there probably isn’t as scary as what’s out here.”

it’s quiet. the alhambra is dark and empty in a way buildings shouldn’t be. no sound from outside getting in, even in the middle of chicago. why is the room getting so cold?

and then a weak keening sound comes through the blackness, like a dying animal trying to cry out through the blood in its throat.

— and with a rough wet splash the crying stops. quiet again, for a while.

.

then behind them what’s left of the chef hurtles out of the dark and slams into a table. gore and furniture thrown into the air.

more staff remains smash into tables and out the lights. each one closer than the last.

the room is loud and dark and a roaring mass approaches.

(Source: he-who-walks)

askthomasraith:

askmollycarpenter:

askpolkameister:

he-who-walks:

there’s a faint sound amid the din of the restaurant.

did you hear that?

one of the musicians has stopped playing.

“Oh, so like.. there’s no way that thing might be coming here to celebrate your birthday, then. Ha. Okay. Uh.” The medical examiner lowered his voice to a whisper, though he was unsure as to whether it would help or not. “Are we sure an archangel can fight a god-like being? I mean, isn’t that like pitting a mouse up against a rat?” He blinked, then sat back with a worried expression. “Oh, man, not that I’m trying to offend any of them, I just—”

It’s funny what the senses can tune in and out when emotions aren’t on the level. It was just the timing amid the music and the voices that something sparked the attention of the nervous Butters. It was something he wouldn’t have noticed if he’d been calm. He started, his thin shape leaping forward out of the chair to nearly collide with Molly, though instead he landed on his ass on the tiled floor of the restaurant after spinning around to look behind them. His voice went high and light, something he would’ve been embarrassed about had he not been focused on their surroundings. “What the heck was that?!”

Molly heard it too, and her senses were instantly on high-alert as she absentmindedly reached out a shaking hand to help Butters to his feet.

“I don’t know,” she said, scanning the room for the cause of the noise, voice low and not at all steady. She glanced around. Ivy was still talking with Uriel, Marcone and Hendricks were in discussion about something or other, Kincaid and Murphy were dancing….Thomas was the only other person who seemed to have even heard the noise.

“Stay with me, or with Uriel,” she said, still trying to find the source of the noise. “If everything goes to hell, you find a house with a threshold and you stay there until someone you know and trust and can verify their identity comes for you, okay?”

Thomas’s head whipped around at the noise, staring in the direction it had come from. He was completely still even as Butters fell out of his chair. He stood up slowly, moving his chair out of the way, and glanced over at the others. The sound was somewhat recognizable to him, he’d heard it before, and thinking about it made him feel a bit sick.

“Over there.” He said quietly, gesturing in the direction the sound had come from. He ignored his instinct to keep Molly and Butters out of any possible dangerous situations. They were adults, and they could handle themselves. “I’ll come with, I could probably be of some use…” Super human strength and senses were useful in most situations, after all.

Anonymous asked: I don't think anyone invited you to Molly's party. So you should leave her and her friends alone for once and, as they say, BUGGER OFF. (*quadruple-checks that "anon" is clicked*)

Alone?

There is no such thing.

But I am nothing if not a perfect guest to my hosts. So long as they avoid the corners of their eyes.

askchandler asked: Ah, Walker, what a Dubious pleasure. Have you been well and truly summoned, then, no longer bound to a human host (Like the Parasite you are)?

Ahh, you ask if I will be easy for you to escape.

The answer is no.

Anonymous asked: Does it annoy you to be so dependent upon mortals to enter this realm?

It used to.

This has ceased to be a problem.

mindchildofmadness asked: What are your thoughts on lace doilies?

I ̔̕̚̕̚҉W ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍I ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡L҉҉ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘L ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐D ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘e ̒̓̔̕V ̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̕̚̕ ͡҉҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇O ̡̢̛̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍U ̎̏̚R  ̡̢̡̢̛̛̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠Y ̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎̏ ̔̕̚̕̚҉o ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎U ̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓ ̔̕̚̕̚ ̔̕̚̕̚҉W ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇R ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍e ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉T ̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒C  ͡҉҉̔̕̚̕̚҉H

I tiRe of these MEANingless questi ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ons. THere is muCh to be done, mortal, interLOPers to be CRU ҉҉SHED.

I neEd new hUmANs. THese are weA ҉̔̕̚̕̚҉Ring thIn.

thEY canN ҉҉OT even WRIte prOP ͡҉ERly .