vivicidal | open rp / overflow

I'm right there with you on preference. As for influence, well, it can definitely take its toll and I certainly enjoy my freedom from it... [ But it also serves to form and maintain his mask. ]

Thick-skinned, then. If nothing phases you, did anything at least amuse you?

How do you mean? Frequent visits, or did you live on a houseboat?

Who wouldn’t want to be free of influence? Not many can achieve it. If you value it, then you might be one of few.

In a way. Besides always being called mentally unstable, a kicked puppy, or a disguised killer? I suppose ‘murder husband’. That I would run off to Europe and commit a romantic murder spree. Lounds, and most, certainly saw lots of potential in me.

{ It might be closest to a fragment of the truth. Will was willing to run away that night, and he’s left with the weight of a what if. }

Close. I grew up in poverty. Hotels, run down apartments, and boats. What we could find while money was scrapped at ports. Did you have a clutch as a child?

In certain circumstances, and if manipulated properly, it can be quite advantageous. Especially when you need to blend in.

A romantic murder spree in Europe? Thank you for fleshing out new visuals I didn't know I needed, my life is renewed. I have to admit, 'murder husband' has a nice ring to it... just don't end up on killer couples, I beg of you.

[ All in jest while his fragmented truth remains hidden within tales. ]

Hmm, seems the lack of choice lies within impermanence. But I wouldn't know, I didn't grow up with a single parent. Mornings, before dawn, while everyone was still asleep... that was my peace.

I know a bit about blending in. I’ll have to keep that in mind.

Please, I’d have the decency to not get caught. Being framed doesn’t count. All this knowledge would be put to waste and I’d truly be a joke. Picking someone is the tricky part. A partner, I mean. Preferably someone that won’t try and eat me.

{ Of course his poor humor rears again. He knows Hannibal would have regretted consuming him. In exchange, Will also would have regretted killing him if he had succeeded. Choices. }

And somewhere along the innocence was lost. Better off. I can see the appeal. Only the chirping birds would be witness to your peace. I’ve only ever been up that early when I had classes to teach. Otherwise, it’s a few hours earlier that I peak.

Best to start with individuals who don't already know your reputation. Then gradually introduce the well-practiced facade for a seamless blend.

I can see the headlines now, 'A Murder Spree to Remember'. Knowledge is one thing, implementing that knowledge is something else... but consider adding me to that list, I can say for certain that devouring you would be a shame. With your knowledge and my work with cadavers, I'm sure we'd be a force to be reckoned with.

[ The continued poor humor remains prevalent, however, there's a slight edge of sincerity just below the surface. He's worked alongside five other individuals to commit the perfect undetectable murder. However, when he caught several of them intertwined in lies, Peter inevitably killed them all; four by fire and the fifth... far more gruesome and worthy of such a death. ]

I have to agree with you there. I still wake before dawn, it's habitual now, engrained for years even after my escape.

That would require me to move. I do like where I am now. No one usually bothers the guy living out in the middle of the woods. Maybe I should try somewhere else for a bit.

You mean all the true crime fanatics will flock to those sensations, twist what is from flesh and bone into romanticism. It also depends, are you the sort to want people to see the artistry? Will you hunt the unforgettable? The outliers, perhaps? Or will you let them see? Skills are skills, but without a fortified foundation, betrayal wrings necks. That said, you’re welcomed to try on the list.

{ It might be that he is tried or he’s truly found a way to avoid floating aimlessly. Will is never sure, but what he knows is that he’s forgiven the unforgivable. No one forced him to be nestled in dark corners, reaching out from the shadows to try and find someone that understood. It was the betrayal he couldn’t handle. Who can? }

Habits. You forge them and they are difficult to unwind. If there’s something I appreciate, it’s patterns. I like knowing the sun will always come out every day.

It's not impossible. It may not be as seamless... but that also depends on your approach.

[ 'You guys want the truth, or just something clever? Truth is, you're all full of shit. Who needs a motive? Who needs a reason to kill? Just today, I opened a 16-year-old boy who was shot in the chest because someone wanted his fucking iPhone. What kind of reason is that? We're animals, it's in our nature to kill. Basic. Simple. You should've all figured that out by now. Of course, we're civilized, we socialize. We sit around and talk about it over a beer, we don't actually do it. If we could really get away with it? Kill anyone? Anyone at all?

Kill anyone. Anyone at all.'

Words that lead him astray on a winding path enmeshed in deceit and betrayal. Will is right about fortified foundations... a mistake he'll never make again. ]

Almost sounds like you speak from experience.

It's the best part of the day. Quiet, peaceful, beautiful. Every morning, I brew a hot cup of coffee and relax on the deck while the sun rises.

Seems like intervals. By all means, if you have approaches, slip them into my mailbox.

{ Always partly joking with syringes puncturing in truth. His appetite is tied to those that know where to look, in the places that often repulse. Most of the time he's okay when his boundaries are not tested, when they are not provoked. However, there are moments when he's reminded that he is the mongoose that is trapped underneath his house when the snakes slither by. He's been marked, purified not by the holy water people seek, but the blood washed ashore from what he's seen. He can only adapt, watch others with sonder, but when will it not be enough?

For now, he controls what he can. It means fixating on the way he breaths, on the tension always lining his muscles. He's hyper aware of surroundings, making sure his dogs are okay, and that he's grounded to the last level of his house where he can see if someone were to intrude. }

I could be speaking of others. It's how this works. Some of it is mine, and some of it is someone else. Truth is, I don't often know what is mine to feel. Just scratched record nonsense.

The Egyptian god, Ra, not only became the sun, but also represented renewal and creation. It's good you find comfort in your quietude.

Intervals, filtering, take one aspect at a time. You'll do fine.

Ahh, I see why you were framed in the first place. You're an easy target. Haven't learned how to ground yourself yet?

Do you in yours?

Yeah, I suppose so. We're all fine in the end. Have enough scars to prove that.

It wasn't that I was easy, it was that I chose to truly feel for once, and I did. However, we evolve and become. If I have grounded myself now, that's a bit personal. I've certainly found something on the horizon.

Not yet, but maybe one day.

You and me both.

[ He speaks of mental scarring... all physicality faded with the absorption of his first ability. It was almost cathartic. ]

I'll unlock the mystery that shrouds Will yet. If anything, I'm persistent.

Where do you find comfort then?

There’s beauty in scars.

{ He won’t admit full truths, but even between the tidbits there are hints. Some of which he’s not fully aware of, but there’s certainly a tug coming from somewhere. }

If you dig and are disappointed, here’s me making it clear that you might be.

I find comfort in what I shouldn’t. However, quiet moments out at sea is when I get closest. Isolation. My dogs. Maintenance, perhaps.

The stories they tell are boundless.

[ From the mundane to the traumatic, and everything in between. ]

All I have to say to that is... we are each our own worst critics.

Whatever it is you do find comfort in, who says you shouldn't? Take comfort where you can find it.

For some of us, they’re binding.

{ Etching reminders of survival and hidden truths ~~desires~~. }

Fair.

What if I told you I once found comfort in finding ways of killing a friend? Not necessarily ideal, but intrusive thoughts occur. Makes fishing all that more relaxing when I need to clear any brain fog.

Only if you allow them to do so.

I stand by my statement, take comfort where you can find it. Was it at least somewhat cathartic? Better question, does this friend deserve to die in the countless scenarios that you've dreamt up?

Easy said… and the rest is bullshit.

I’ll try. Everything in fantasy is cathartic, much as one can deny it. “Deserve” is a strong word, keeps people thinking they have the sort of power over others. And maybe that’s the appeal, to hold the key to such a decision. I’d say I wanted him dead only by my hand and then not.

Most of all, I’m not sure it would be satisfying to kill him. Motions. That’s all.

True enough.

[ Of course, he refuses to believe that he's still bound by certain scars. ]

Well, at least the thoughts alone brought you comfort... for a time. Is it just the one friend, or do you visualize others?

More like good enough.

{ It's alright, delusion is an all season perfume that's wearable for all. }

I admit my undivided attention has been given to him, probably in ways most don't desire. There's no other like him, not even me. I fall under the same trappings, but in different ways — I do find some people distasteful, but so do many, I assume. So, I've imagined.

I get it, I suppose I feel the same about the man I was talking about earlier.

[ 'feel' became 'felt' for a split second - a close slip, he's technically supposed to be alive out there, somewhere. ]

How is he so different than others?

I’m not sure if it’s the same, but I’ve said enough. I just want to be untethered.

{ which is to indicate, the closest he might admit to how far he may have been willing to go. for now. }

A moth to bright light. Someone like him is to not be underestimated. Something closer to beyond human, if there were ever someone. It’s never about the physical, but what one can do to a psyche. Or I have truly lost my mind.

Fair enough.

Sounds like quite an interesting individual.

[ Easy to interpret one way or another, especially over text. Could be sarcasm, could be intrigue... hard to tell. ]

I shouldn't keep you...

We’re all a bit interesting, including you.

{ The cat found the catnip and now the bag is scratched open. It’s choices from here on out. For now, he’ll leave it tangled and without further inquiry. }

I’ll only disappoint, Peter. Have a good night.

open rp / overflow

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but perhaps we can bring this one to an end

wrap it up in a lovely coffin