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@Diehijikata @thelittleoddling feeling better and up to rp if y'all are still down! also opening up this request thread again! 🦷

been on a bit of an rp break but i'll let you know once i'm back in the game!

Ghost being so surrounded by death, he was neglect for the feelings the gateways would give onto others. The forest was just a forest to him, the deaths here just natural occurrences that any space would be filled with if you went back far enough. He followed Misha, looking around for any sign...

Reapers were not granted such privileges, however. Finding a way down to the depths was usually predicated on a lot of luck or the following of a particular vendetta. As far as Misha knew, there wasn't a single reaper he'd ever met who was ever interested in making the trip in the first place...

Ghost groaned a noise of consideration, clearly thinking on it. His eyes closed, he leaned his head back and forth as he weighed invisible pros and cons. Finally, with a sigh, "Very well. I'm sure the bastard is too busy for me anyway." The reaper tapped his scythe, a resolution being made with...

Ghost chuckled something low and half-hearted at the comment. "No, I probably wouldn't. I've walked for so long I'm not sure my legs would know how to stop." He leaned on his scythe, staring down at the corpse one last time. He turned this stare to Misha, and the exhaustion plain on him could...

Ghost shrugged, the weight on his shoulders nearly visible. "Who can say. Maybe I finally get my vacation." He stood from where he sat, pushing himself up with his scythe and walking over to Charlie's corpse. He leveraged the end of the scythe underneath the soul, prying it out of the man's...

Ghost nodded, a sigh as he relaxed, ever so slightly. Talking to Misha about his frustrations seemed to immediately ease him, being able to voice thoughts he'd otherwise have no opportunity to. "It is. And I am never really sure if the ascent is worth it." Ghost sat back, redirecting his gaze...

i think i'm reaching my upper limit on the amount of rp's i'm in but i sent you a message!

sent you a message!

Ghost sighed, pinching his brow and looking as exhausted as Misha's ever seen him, which is saying something given his default state. "Pickiness... No, I suppose not. Though it use to be simpler. Less... Mgh. People died, and that was that. None of this descent, ascent nonsense." He ran a hand...

updated the main post with a new OC! still looking; would be nice to get some mxm rp in the mix!

Ghost's eyes flickered up to Misha approaching, his body posture immediately steeling against the presence of another person to see him vulnerable. He had hoped, desperately, that the soul would flicker away, up towards limbo or anywhere else, but the lingering implied a weight holding Charlie's...

There were rare times where the reaper was caught in his own moment of weakness, contrast to the first meeting between the two of them. Years later, however many he never bothered to count, Ghost sat on the dirt ground, head in hands. The forest around him was eerily still, silence surrounding...

"They have hell hounds. If you wish to be kind, consider them your guides." Ghost stood up, pulling Misha up along with him without first asking, holding tight onto the harbinger's arm--only in the interest in keeping the boy from falling back over. "Prepare yourself, and do not undo my hard...

Ghost looked at the harbinger with half-pity, half-incredulousness. He has heard many reasons for dealing with the devil, most of them selfish, but this one seemed beyond that. Someone too young to understand that everybody dies. And the perfect prey for hell. "... Hrmh. Well. I will not...

Ghost did not look so amused. He frowned, snaggleteeth poking out. "Hell is where you will end up, young one. You have sold your soul." He sighed, running a hand through his white curls. "It is a shame. You are so young. What would cause you to do such a thing?" He looked not necessarily...

The reaper sighed, deciding he may as well join Misha in sitting on the ground. Plopping down into a cross-legged position, he laid his scythe over his lap. "Ehhh. Names. We are never given them. My oldest one is Gava-- A Ghost. But call me whatever you want."

"Eh?" Ghost looked down, only now noticing the pain. He just wiped his hand off on his coat, the pitch black of it absorbing the stain easily. The red on his neck will be noticed later, and the knee was too much trouble for the moment. "Aye, it is. You called me death earlier--close enough. You...

Ghost bit the thread off, sitting back on his legs in a seated squat. He let out a low whistle, making a face at his own shoddy work. The stitches were misaligned, none of them straight, the wider areas with the burns more of a mess than he'd manage in some time. He scratched the back of his...