ZincAboutIt

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ZincAboutIt last won the day on September 3 2019

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About ZincAboutIt

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    Life is short, spike dessert first.
  • Birthday 01/25/1992

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    Female
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    Washington, USA
  • Interests
    Writing, petting dogs, hemalurgy, drinking warm drinks, picking flowers, blood sorcery, fuzzy scarves, tea, making book playlists, eating cucumbers, skipping, salt and vinegar chips, wordplay

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  1. @Butt Ad Venture Thank you so much, I'm so glad that what I draw reaches out beyond me and can touch other people too! I've wanted to draw this little exchange for a while - I'm not sure it will ever get written, but I just felt like it needed to happen somewhere. Both Viv and Voidus are so broken: Viv brutally and suddenly at a young age, and Voidus worn down slowly by an eternity. I think, in her heart, Viv knows that he isn't actually a hallucination, but she (and I) knows that sometimes what is most needed is to get a little lost in delusion. To put away the truth of the immediate, and find a piece of joy for a moment. Viv's world is covered in broken glass, but she still chooses to dance over it. Gonna get her feet cut either way - may as well have a little fun. It's an honor to draw for this community, whether you read, write, or whatever in it. This one - and every one - is for all of you.
  2. Boating. It's like shipping, but not as intense.
  3. Nerin followed Attayl, relaxing a bit when she declared that they were alone in the mists. It seemed she had taken to burning her bronze more often. Good, Nerin thought, moving through the close, shifting grey that swirled around her. We need every edge we can get. The mist spiraled and eddied around her, drawn by her Allomancy. She'd begun Soothing again, out of habit, though she was hardly near enough to anyone to be of any use. It was just what she did, what she was. Just a Soother and nothing more. The Counsellor of Gods was only a misting, she told herself, fretting at a hangnail as they continued through the streets. But she was hardly Edgard Ladrian, and this wasn't the end of the world. Just probably the end of her world. They passed a couple on the streets, then turned another corner into more familiar areas. A lamplighter shuffled past in the dimness, his long pole and candle flickering in the mist, and Nerin felt a tiny bit of her anxiety leak away. If they were still lighting the lamps around here, things couldn't be too bad. As they neared the parlour, Nerin spotted something sitting on the front porch. She stopped about a dozen yards away, motioning at Brillin and Attayl to halt as well. "There's something on the front step," she said softly, keeping her face carefully blank. Nerin slipped her key out of her pocket and handed it to Attayl. "Go in through the side door, and take Brillin with you. I'll go look at it, and if it isn't dangerous, I'll knock three times on the front door." @Sorana @Ookla the Maybe-Existent
  4. Is someone cutting onions in this Alleycant? Maybe. @Voidus this one's for you. Edit: This should be a bit clearer to view.
  5. Some Lita sketch-work this evening. Lyrics from "If I Had A Heart" by Fever Ray (which you should all listen to)
  6. Vivica helped to usher Sierra back from the center of the now-empty room, and kept an eye on Bennington, who was edging quite close to the spilled coffee. She gave a quiet, sharp 'tsk' and the octopus halted before swimming sulkily back through the air to her side. She watched Grey work with mounting excitement, admiring his precision as he drew the necessary symbols. The gloves on his hands made little sense to her - why wouldn't you want to feel the blood between your own fingers, running down the backs of your hands and up your sleeves? The thought filled her with an intense longing. How long had it been since she'd practiced all her bindpoints? Ages, she was sure. It had been a while since she'd been in the thick of it, but it felt so good to be back in a lab, experimenting, pushing the limits, ripping the foundations of reality like wet paper. Vivica grinned at Sierra, a proper grin, wide and hard and full of too many teeth. Sierra had plenty of blood, didn't she? Plenty indeed, and did she really need all of it? Vivica's hand was halfway into her pocket for a spike when she stopped herself. This is Grey's experiment, not mine, she reminded herself sternly. He was so nice to offer his coffee maker, and to help Sierra. It wouldn't do to exsanguinate the girl before she's been properly divested of her sanity and reduced to metaphysical mince. That would just be rude. Besides, perhaps once the procedure was done, she and Viv could finally find something to talk about. That thought brightened her, and she took a pen out from behind her ear and began scribbling onto her notepad, drawing out the rough outline of Grey's circle, taking note of what was going on. This was going to be fun. It was already fun! What a beautiful day, she thought contentedly, and waited for Grey to split reality like an egg. @Snipexe @Shard of Thought
  7. *poorly-concealed scoffing*
  8. "No, not if God himself were to ask." The Stranger was still gripping her shoulder with one hand, and he lowered his other to his side. His face was inscrutable, wracked with the tiny lines and minute twitches that accompany a maelstrom of concealed emotion. Lita watched him, her mind drifting through terror and anger in equal measure - anger at the Stranger, yes, but more anger at herself. Anger at the fact that she still gazed up at him with awe, despite - perhaps even because of - his arrogance. His assumption that of course, she would simply give him what he asked. Because who could challenge him? Who could even begin to match his power? Someone could, that little voice whispered, and Lita felt a moment of intense vertigo, like stepping backwards and finding only air beneath your heel. Her vision blurred, and the ghost of a memory bloomed in her mind - the shape of what she had seen in the water. Lita's thoughts raced at a speed she could barely process, making jumps in logic that would have been impossible in another few hours. But here, in this place, so close to the water... For now, for this moment, she understood. "Hello, err,... sir." Lita's head snapped around at the sound of Laurelai's voice. She was out of the water, looking as confused as Lita had felt when she'd first staggered out herself. The Stranger seemed equally shocked by Laurelai's sudden emergence, surfacing from a great ways away, reeling with... something. "Ah, um, Laurelai. You... both of you must avoid the waterfall, it's dangerous. Who knows what the source of the magic is, what the long term effects are? It's best just to be safe." His words were halting, disjointed, like a man woken suddenly from a deep, deep dream. Lita bit her lip in frustration, already feeling the edges of her own thoughts begin to fray again. She couldn't speak aloud now, not with Laurelai out of the water. Think, Lita. In her palm, the Coin pulsed with a low, gentle warmth, like a cat nudging an oblivious human's leg. Lita clutched it tighter, almost laughing with relief. Of course. All she had to do was think. 'Sixty-three shoes,' she thought quickly, pouring her mental energy through the link, hoping the Stranger would hear her, hoping she could make any sense out of the vast jumble of knowledge that thundered in her mind. 'We found sixty-three right shoes in a cave further up, sitting in a pile. Sixty-three people missing from a tenement that vanished overnight, right down to the foundation. And there are others, other places that have just... gone. Erased. No sound, no trace. I received a tip - that's why we came down here, the three of us. Me, Laurelai, and the Radiant.' Lita could feel her heart thunder in her ears, sure that someone else must hear it too, even without Tin. She took another breath. 'Whatever you're doing, things are happening. People have noticed. And even if you take my memories, if you keep on the way you're going, he will notice too. You know he will.' She forced her eyes to meet his, green into black, letting herself fall down the well of that darkness. Lita felt the draw on her soul, the lure of the Void - everything and nothing. She stood before the ouroboros, the snake devouring its own tail. Entropy and infinity. Creation, through destruction. She wanted it with a hunger that tore at her very spirit. 'I knew you, for a moment.' Lita glimpsed it again - darkness, broken by bright sparks. 'Glorious. And alone. But you don't need to be.' Her hand moved almost of its own accord, reaching up across her body before she could stop herself and placing her fingers on the back of the Stranger's hand. His skin felt rough and strange, almost patterned beneath her fingertips, and colder than she'd have expected. But real. He was real, and whatever he was now, he had once been as fragile and human and desperately ambitious as she was. 'You came to me when I had nearly nothing, when I was no one. You took a risk. Now let me show you why,' she thought fiercely, hope and fear and anger flaring like metal within her. 'You began an experiment. Don't end it before it's done.' @Fatebreaker @Voidus
  9. Nerin turned to look at him, resting her chin on one knee and thinking about that possibility. To her other side, Attayl crouched and touched her arm without a word. Nerin could tell she was uneasy - they all were. She burned a little Brass and took a bit of the edge off; not enough to make anyone careless, but the two of them deserved a little more calm at least. Brillin's suggestion would have sounded melodramatic if he hadn't said it so plainly, as though he were recommending a restaurant. As Nerin continued to study his face, she realized he was serious. If she agreed, he would help her kill every last one that they could manage to snare. There was an undeniable allure to that solution, a justice that felt raw and hot. The gangs and their warring had torn apart her life. Why shouldn't she dose them with their own poison? And then what? Would she go back to running the parlour, sitting and waiting for some new gang to come in and take over? That was the way of things. The Hollows were not affluent enough to escape the clutches of Elendel's street thugs. They were like rats; even if you killed the lot, some would always slink back and rebuild the nest. Nerin sighed, pushing a few stray hairs out of her eyes and checking her hair pins. "This isn't the place for that kind of discussion," she said finally, stretching out her legs and getting ready to climb down the ladder. "Let's get back. I'll go down first, Attayl, you come down last." Nerin shuffled towards the ladder and placed her hands on the top wrung before swinging down one leg at a time. The metal was cold against her palms, and the mist had begun to spiral up as night fell, making the rungs slicker than Nerin would have liked. Thankfully, she remembered which one was broken, and reached the bottom without incident. She stood in the alleyway, waiting for the others and trying not to imagine shapes watching her through the mists. She failed.
  10. "Disbelief". Inspiration scene found here. "You want... my memories?"
  11. Lita froze when the Stranger laid a hand on her shoulder, flicking her eyes downward at his fingers, at the back of his hand, solid and real. Of course he's real, some small portion of her mind chided, but still. He'd never actually touched her, not when he gave her the Coin, not when he'd given her the spike. He hadn't even picked her up off the ground afterwards, and Lita had never expected him to. He was a god, and gods did not touch mortals. Not without very good reason. Lita shivered, pulling her eyes away from his hand and trying to focus on what he was saying to her. There was a coldness in the air that had nothing to do with the chill of the grotto, like the afterimage of a dream - something that had almost happened, but did not. But that possibility wasn't dead yet. Whatever the Stranger had almost done, he could set in motion again. She processed his words slowly, her Tin still registering all the other extraneous details of the scene, his face, the way he moved, the measure in his voice that was at odds with the tightness in his fingers where they dug into her shoulder. The gesture was at once protective and possessive, and it terrified her in a way she could not describe. "I have something I must ask of you, something of the utmost importance. I need you to tell me exactly what you're doing down here, what you know about this place, and who else knows." Lita swallowed hard, trying not to think about how easily the Stranger had ripped off Lord Ajax's arms six months ago with the same hand that now gripped her shoulder. Pull it together Lita, she thought, taking a small breath, forcing herself to look into his face. Just another report, like any other day. Just more intelligence, more reconnaissance. You're a spy - you can do this. "We came down..." Lita trailed off as the Stranger reached into his tattered lab coat and pulled out something small and metallic. "And then I need you to give me those memories," he said. Her heart stopped for a moment, and she met his gaze then, all the force of that will and power boring into her. "You want... my memories?" Lita could feel her confusion ignite into panic, and then, like someone blowing on an ember, that panic slowly began to heat into anger. He wanted her memories, and he just expected her to give them to him? Her knowledge? Her secrets? The things she had bled and reached and scrambled and killed for? She looked past him then, towards the water still falling blue and luminous, still calling her forward. It could give her knowledge she couldn't even dream of - it had. It had given her more, even, than the Stranger could give her. She looked back to him now, and she held up the Coin in her left hand, bringing it to eye level. Its face gleamed with the image of the sun - the light of truth. "You told me to never stop searching," she whispered. "That truth and Science would guide me to the secrets that I wanted to know, if I was willing to pay for them. And I have paid for them." Lita said the last bit through clenched teeth, moving her hand back to her side and clutching the Coin in her palm. "And when I finally find something, learn something of true value," she continued, "you want to take it from me?" More tears began gathering at the corners of her eyes, hot and angry. She tried to blink them away, but instead they fell down her cheeks and into her collar, momentarily blurring the Stranger's face. "I know I saw something in that water, but... whatever it is, I don't care. I won't tell anyone - I can barely remember myself! I'd never do anything against you - you're the only one who's ever told me --" Told me I could attain anything in life. Lita paused, swallowing what felt like a sob and angrily scrubbing her hand across her eyes, praying to anyone that this was all a terrible dream, that she would wake up in her room behind the blue door and forget this cruel fiction. She drew in a ragged breath, feeling the leaden weight of dread settle onto her, warring with her fury. There was no refusing the Stranger, and Lita knew it. He had too much power, and power was the true currency in this life. Lita simply didn't have enough. She had never had enough, and then, when he took her memories of this place, Lita would never even recall how close she had come. "If our places were reversed," she said suddenly, looking into his eyes. "If I were to ask you for your memories of this place, what you'd learned. What you'd seen. Would you do it? Could you let it go? Even if," Lita paused, taking a breath. "Even if you knew you'd die if you refused?" @Fatebreaker @Voidus
  12. Nerin stopped at the penultimate rung at the sound of Brillin's voice and looked up, feeling her fury and frustration die a little when she met his too-blue eyes. She pulled Lance's ruined mask out of her pocket and waved it in the air. "Lance didn't need our help," she said acidly, shoving it back into her pocket and scrambling up onto the roof proper. "And he's not keen on giving us any, either. I don't know what game he's playing, but I bought Farrier protection and I'm rusting well going to get it." Nerin kept low as she edged towards the other ladder. "He can't be the only thug in that gang. I'm done waiting around for that pompous dandy to swagger in too late every time." She looked up at Brillin, eyes fierce and hard. "We are living through this war, Brillin," Nerin said through gritted teeth. "I don't care what it costs. I'll contact that Tineye woman I met yesterday, get someone else round. They want more money, I'll tear the Aluminum out of the rusting parlour walls. And if they want something else, well..." She shuddered a little, then stilled herself and took a short breath. Wetness still lingered on her cheek, and she wiped it off, hard. When she spoke again, her voice was cold. "Maybe Lance is right, and my blood - my life - is worth nothing. But it's still mine. I'm not going to wait around for someone to butcher me like they butchered --" she faltered, then regained herself "-- others." Nerin brought her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, suddenly feeling every bit of the exhaustion and terror and grief of the last few days. She leaned her forehead against her knees and closed her eyes, breathing for a moment, rearranging her thoughts. Everything was bleeding together now, the real and the fiction, and her emotions were icy waves that threatened to swallow her whole. "We'll wait for the others for a moment, if they want to come," she sighed. "Then I'm going home." @Ookla the Maybe-Existent @Sorana
  13. Nerin hit the floor hard, knees taking the brunt of the force, then the heels of her palms. She turned over her shoulder, something hot and furious spilling over her cheeks, down her neck. "Then you should have left me on the kitchen floor, if I'm so rusting worthless!" Nerin screamed at the hole in the roof. "Maybe when we're all dead, you can have a good laugh and stop pretending to be anything other than a selfish bastard!" She stood, then brought her heel down hard on the tinted glass of Lance's mask. It broke with a sharp, splintered sound, and Nerin scrubbed the back of her hand across her cheek, still furious, wanting to break something else, wanting take the world in her hands and tear it to pieces. Nerin whirled and looked at Aben and Attayl, daring them to say something. "I'm going back to the parlour," she spat. "You can come, or not. I don't care anymore." Nerin stooped and swept the shattered mask off the floor, intending to take it home and burn it along with that absurd mistcoat. She strode towards the ladder and started up. "I don't care about anything." @Invocation @Sorana @Dr. Dapper
  14. "All that swagger," Nerin said softly, stepping closer and feeling her anger curdle into something more venemous. "And what has that gotten me so far?" Bad idea Nerin, something inside her warned. Lance may give the appearance of a gentleman, but there was nothing gentle about him. He could kill her as easily as breathing - easier, probably. She took another step, then another, until the tip of her finger just brushed the front of Lance's waistcoat. "Nothing but blood on my shoes," she whispered, "and blood on my floorboards. Blood, blood, blood." Nerin could feel herself shaking, staring through the tinted lenses of Lance's mask. "I've a feeling I'll be wading knee deep in it before this is all over" she murmured. "But I'd be more than willing if it's Scarlet blood, Mister Rapis. You want to deliver me vengeance? We can start with Willet."