abby, lady taipan
she/her
32 years old
November 4th
slateport
bisexual
bar owner, drug manufacturer
scientist
i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.
TAG WITH @absinthe
Absinthe Blackwood
hold it close | c, skirmishes
POSTED ON Oct 24, 2024 23:47:45 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","absinthe"] [attr="class","body"] "you can't save me!"[break][break] absinthe's voice is a raw, ripped-out scream, tearing through the quiet of the forest like a saw blade. her eyes are wild behind the lenses of her gas mask, animalistic, tears of rage and despair blurring her vision as she swings the scalpel in wide, reckless arcs. the very idea of strategy has left her mind, reason has fled her senses. she acts on nothing more than instinct and hatred.[break][break] but just like any animal that scents blood in the water, her desperate ministrations render her reckless, her reason sloppy. she feels a sudden, sharp tug at her wrist, and she spares a glance downward just in time to see the scalpel wrenched from her grasp, floating in mid-air, and then flung away into the darkness by an unseen force.[break][break] an unfortunate turn of events. but absinthe can be dangerous without a scalpel.[break][break] "you want to help me?" she spits, grass shifting beneath her weight as she stalks closer. trypsin, coiled around her, hisses in warning, ready to strike again at absinthe's command. "you want to save me? you can't even save yourself."[break][break] "we aren't the same."[break][break] a spherical device appears in her gloved palms, fished from the depths of her pockets. it is a dark harbinger of doom, inscribed with grooves on the surface, complete with a button at the top.[break][break] "you are weak and useless. i'm the woman who's going to make you suffer. i'm the woman who's going to make you pay for every sin committed by the people you fight for."[break][break] to punish a group for the sins of the one is evil. to kill solely for revenge against parties she cannot touch directly is the malady of a blackened heart. absinthe had prayed as a child, but not anymore. she kneels at the altar of ritual sacrifice and begs whoever may listen that she is not the lamb led to the slaughter. that it may be somebody else.[break][break] she is prolonging the inevitable. today, the man in front of her, wide-eyed and desperate, is the sacrificial lamb. tomorrow, it may be her.[break][break] she doesn't want to kill him—she wants to make him think she will.[break][break] a click of the button at the top of the spherical device releases the valves within the orb. a hiss slices through the silence, accompanied only by absinthe's heaving breaths, and begins to release billowy plumes of rich green smoke into the air. absinthe's eyes are manic and tinged red at the edges—the look of a woman who has lost everything, who knows she is safe with the gas mask permanently choking her mouth.[break][break] absinthe's body, coiled like a viper, implies that the gas is truly as she will describe her. her mind knows otherwise—sleeping gas, made from the spores of her wretched little monster, to inflict the body with sleep so dark that one will mistake it for death until they awake, writhing in their own skin.[break][break] "you want to talk? let's talk about how you're going to die." her voice is a low, deadly hiss, like the sound of a snake about to strike. "let's talk about how you're going to choke on your own blood, how your lungs are going to fill with fluid, how you're going to drown in your own body. let's talk about how you're going to beg for mercy, and how i won't give it to you. just like no one gave it to me."[break][break] she draws closer. she's leaning over him now, so he can see the severe, bone-deep curl of her eyebrows, so severe they nearly eclipse her eyes. "but don't worry," she says, her voice dropping to a whisper. "it'll be quick. quicker than what i went through. quicker than what my husband went through. you'll be dead before you hit the ground. and then, maybe, just maybe, i'll find some peace."ollie morales[break][break] NOTES- tldr: absinthe's scalpel is wrenched from her hand. she says some bullshit and drops a bomb of sleeping gas that she pretends is lethal.[break] - +10 mp ic post, +50 MP: Have your character “hit rock bottom”, +50 MP: Showcase your character’s weakness(es) meaningfully [googlefont=Poppins] [newclass=".absinthe"]--accent:#D8AD43;font:12px Poppins;[/newclass] [newclass=".absinthe b"]color:var(--accent);font:bold 14px Roboto;letter-spacing:.1px;[/newclass] [newclass=".absinthe i"]color:var(--accent);[/newclass] [newclass=".absinthe u"]text-underline-offset:3px;text-decoration-color:var(--accent);[/newclass] [newclass=".absinthe a"]font:12px Poppins;color:var(--accent);[/newclass] [newclass=".absinthe h1"]font:16px Poppins;color:var(--accent);font-weight:bold;[/newclass] [newclass=".absinthe h2"]font:14px Poppins;color:var(--accent);font-weight:bold;[/newclass] [newclass=".absinthe .body"]background-image:url("https://image.ibb.co/cpf8Wc/flower_patt.png");background-position:bottom;background-repeat:no-repeat;text-align:justify;letter-spacing:.2px;[/newclass] [newclass=".absinthe .pkmn img"]margin:-10px -7px 0px -7px;[/newclass] [newclass=".absinthe .credit"]width:100px;background-color:#232323;font-size:10px;margin-top:7px;padding:3px;[/newclass] [newclass=".absinthe .credit a"]font-size:10px;[/newclass]
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