'...They thought they could take me down, use my paranoia and habits against me...
But I've learned...
Adapted...'
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It’s time to stand up, get ready to fight
For all the wrongs that should be right
Or watch the world as it slowly falls apart

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Online: Yes
Ready to reply to asks: Yes
Ready to RP: Always
Accepting M!A's

Multifandom/ship rp blog
Tracks the tags "network-robin" and "networkrobin"
Iradia could feel her young heart pulsing widely in her chest. She didn't know how she had been pushed so far into wandering this close to the city. This city. It terrified her in every way, and she had no idea why. The place pulsed with a dark aura. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew she was drawing closer, and she closed her eyes to keep a wild tree branch from hitting her in the eyes. And when she opened them again, There was that guard. Standing almost nose to nose to her.

The city.

Darkmeyer.

Home of Lord Drakan and of vyrelords and ladies. Not to mention the feral lycanthropes from Canifis further out by the River Salve. Get too close and the guard of the place will catch humans and use them like cattle for their residents.

Not the black armored Overlord though. No, the silver haired beauty entertained conversation until she got bored or deemed trespassers unfit to risk going into the grey place with it’s blood red banners and gothic motifs.

The vampyre saw the girl way before the other saw herself, and took little time going to the other’s location. Sharp canines reveal themselves when the woman smiles, rusty colored bats wings torn at the edges shifting with a soft rustle along armored back. Purring out in a predatory tone, yet still somehow kind, golden hues plainly stare without anny attempt to mask that she wasn’t

'What's a mortal like you doing here of all places and not in a slaver's cage or at Meiyerditch…?'

Reblogged from burnemopen  3 notes

burnemopen:

network-robin:

burnemopen

image

'Hey man, could you pass me that spraycan by your foot?'

image

"This? Uh sure, yeah," kicks it in their general direction, "have at it."

The masked conduit grunts as the can clatters across the filthy ground, soon stooping to pick it up. Rightening posture, hand clasped around frigid metal shakes the container as the blond turns heel and gets back to work spraying graffiti on the wall.

'Preciate it.'