thepaperfanwillgetyou:

any glen roleplayer who played hatoful boyfriend? i swear this is revelant

/raises hand

{hourglass; open.

mistressof-massacre:

… a tug at her senses?

It was almost as if an important call rang through her ears, the pinkette’s small frame pausing in mid stride as pink eyes looked up from the ground. Such a nostalgic feeling, mind reeling as she remembered how intense this feeling once was. Always in the comfort of his presence whether you were completely next to him or even within the same property.

It was like she was truly back in those peaceful times.

Just like when she had first arrived.

No doubt in her mind restrained her from changing her path, following that feeling as she felt herself become anxious. And, with a longing in her chest ready to burst her fluttering heart, eyes set upon the cloaked figure that had come slowly into view.

Expression shifted to one caught off guard, moisture threatening to collect at the corner of her eyes from the sight.

” … Master Glen? “

A faint smile nearly reached his lips as he heard the surprise in his voice. Lotti’s reaction was only to be expected, of course— ever since they had first met, she seemed to be quite an easily flustered person. Glen felt a sense of nostalgia for those times, before they had all become so… broken up.

As cold as he could be, it was an undeniable fact that they were a family. More specifically, they were his family, the one he was responsible for.

“Ah, Lotti…” he spoke, approaching her quietly. “What a coincidence.“ His steps resounded faintly against the ground, cloak swaying just barely against the cold stones. It was good to be back, even he could not deny it, what with the nightmarish memories he had of the more recent experiences he had had within this body of his. Oswald’s, rather. 

“I see you are in good health.” 

Really, how casual of him. It was rather inappropriate for him to speak as though they had not been separated for so long. His violet eyes glimmered faintly and he tilted his head ever so slightly, silken hair drifting to the side. 

But he wasted no time getting to the point, being one to not enjoy speaking much. He had his priorities, as it was. ”Are the others… alright?” Surely more of the Baskervilles had, as well, survived as long as he and Lotti had. They were fully capable of doing so, that was a fact which Glen was entirely confident of.

(Source: misfortuned-flight)

{hourglass; open.

roses-and-skulls:

Since she somehow survived the events years ago Miranda had been wandered the lands. Her Manor had now been passed down to her succesor, she didn’t want to answer all of his annoying questions so she rather not spend the time there. Occasionaly she would visit Sabrie-just for memories sake.

This particular day was one that she wanted to spend outside and just happily stroll around. She had her cloak wrapped around her slim figure-the hood not on her head this time. It merely was for the cold and not to hide her face-she had nothing to conceal right now. Humming softly she let her eyes roam around the streets, it was empty safe for a few individuals.

Her eye caught one particular person that stood out from the rest. He wasn’t facing her but that cloak-she would have recognized that everywhere. But how was this possible? She stopped in her tracks and found herself staring at him, yes, there was no doubt-it was him.

“Sir Oswald…” She whispered-she wasn’t certain if someone could even hear her even though the streets were almost abandoned. Her voice being one of the only things that produced sound at this very moment.

He’d heard her easily, whether it was because she spoken his old name, or rather because her voice was one that the Duke would not be able to forget without effort. But she shouldn’t have been alive. She was only a mere human, with none of the more special capabilities that Glen had. Indeed, how curious it all was…

He turned almost immediately upon hearing her speak, dark cloak swishing to the side. While most others would have exclaimed in surprise, or something of the sort, Glen remained silent, amaranthine gaze coldly judging as always.

“I see I have the pleasure of meeting with you once again…” 

What he said was merely automatic, something anyone of nobility that had proper manners would say. Truthfully, he felt no joy at seeing her, not even any frustration— only that emptiness that he was so very familiar to. That indifference. And so, Glen bowed towards her, but not as deeply as he might have before he had become head of the Baskerville family. She was not one of his kind, and therefore did not deserve as much respect from him as others might have.

But the fact that she had survived for so long surely was not a good omen. He had it in mind to be wary, but now… Glen knew it would be best to be on his very best guard. And who knew what on earth she had in mind? Ever since long ago, he had sensed something rather.. peculiar about the woman; however, the Duke was sure he could take care of matters without anyone’s assistance, and so, in the end, he doubted it would not be worth worrying too much about.

(Source: misfortuned-flight)

oh a quick note—

Sablier probably makes more sense than Sabrie since it means hourglass in French.

Just putting that out there, do whatever you like.

{hourglass; open.

It seemed he’d found a body once more, his own body.  After the horrifying affairs he’d last experienced within said personage, Glen found it an almost disorienting relief to be back.  Sweeping his cloak round himself as was an old, almost instinctual habit of his, the Duke gazed about, amaranthine eyes gleaming faintly in the light.  

He had to ensure the safety of his family. As cold as he did often seem to be, Glen did care for them quite a lot, and had to at least respect and follow his duties, as was only expected of such a nobleman.

The duke turned, one thin, lithe hand slipping into the pocket of his long coat as he smoothly made way. In one hand, he held the golden pocket watch that was so important. His gloved thumb gently traced across the device’s intricate grooves, and for a moment, he was tempted to stop and listen to its happy tune. But he had little time for that.

Perhaps he would chance across his old friend. 

The duke nearly laughed at the thought of another reunion. How touching it would be. He was sure it wouldn’t end well, resulting in some form of bloodshed… he had low hopes for them both.

No, it was most certainly time to change things.

misfortuned-flight started following you

vessaliusotaku:

  It was most fortunate for Isla to have run into the harbinger of the tragedy so quickly. Oh, a most fortuitous day it was indeed! There were numerous opportunties before him—Isla simply couldn’t decide which one to pursue.

“In that case, I shall now introduce myself…to the outside, I am a mere elderly nobleman. But I count myself as one of the rare experts on the Tragedy of Sabrie! It’s an honor to meet you at last!”

Of all the things he could have been told, that was one of the very last things Glen wished to hear. An expert on the Tragedy of Sablier? What a disgrace.

The duke’s amaranthine eyes narrowed, his gaze cold and wintry as he frowned upon the supposed master. He gripped one gloved hand into a fist, trying to remain properly composed, as was only appropriate for one of such high social standards. But it seemed he couldn’t help but reply harshly, entirely disregarding the customs he had been taught as a nobleman.

“I regret to say I cannot return the compliment.” His rebuke was straight and to the point, without any consideration to how word might be spread as further consequences of his actions.

“..Though I can only assume you wish me to tell you secrets of that dreadful time.”

misfortuned-flight started following you

vessaliusotaku:

 ”You wouldn’t happen to be the infamous Glen Baskerville, would you?”

“Infamous?”  Glen paused, amaranthine eyes frowning.  Of course.  Such a title would naturally have attached itself to his name.  It seemed Jack’s deeds had done their work well.  What a bother.

“…I am Glen Baskerville, yes.”