An Evening with Sander Cohen
Sofie peeks out of a hideyhole, looking for a familiar face or a dangerous splicer. She hadn't seen anyone in a while and was missing her friends. At least she thought they were her friends. She spots a strange man walking past. His lips glisten red like her mothers. She giggles and keeps watching.

Sander Cohen made his typical rounds at Fort Frolic. The place was unusually empty and exceptionally quiet, even for the likes of him. Ruby lips twisted into a scowl as his eyes explored the abandoned wasteland known as his domain. Soft laughter struck a nerve. He glanced sidelong, seeing nothing.

Dark brows furrowed together.

"Little moth, have you come to play~?"

♠ ♥ ♣

{{ A fact about the muse: Cohen’s inspiration is the Green Fairy. When he drinks absinthe, he suffers from delusions. Splicing, also, contributes to this. It’s similar to Steinman with Aphrodite.

A fact about the mun: I plan on becoming a cop one day. Instead of going straight to the academy, I’m working on a college degree.

The mun’s and muse’s feelings on you/your character: He’s craycray. Batshit insane. He’s some pitiable monster who’s on the path to self-destructive. Cohen is a delusional fool, but it’s fun to be him.

As for Cohen’s opinion on me? Well, I hope he doesn’t have one! }}

{{ A fact about anything: Industrialization fascinates Cohen whilst nature disgusts him. He’s not fond of animals in the least bit. He’s allergic to cats. uwu }}


{{ Put under a cut for length. }}

Read More

Send me a ♠ for: A fact about the muse.
Send me a ♥ for: A fact about the mun.
Send me a ♦ for: A fact about anything.
Send me a ♣ for: The mun's and muse's feelings on you/your character.
mr-sander-cohen started following you!


Lovely? He was far from lovely, and he knew it. A hand came to pick at his torn shirt as if he thought he could look better. He could become a better man. But he knew that was impossible.

“Who isn’t curious to see Sander Cohen person to person?” he mumbled before straightening.

Cohen reeked of sarcasm. With a college education, he flaunted his elegant diction. Sometimes his words paid more of a resemblance to riddles. Other times, his words meant nothing but endless babbling.

“How flattering,” he mused aloud to this particular splicer.

“Would you like an autograph?”

He peered at the male with pursed lips, his mustache twitching ever so slightly.

"mr-sander-cohen started following you"



His head tilts the other way and his smile grows. Was he working on something new? Would be a waste sadly, with how horrible things had gotten..

He put his own feet out from under himself, catching the railing on the back of his knees, and hanging upside down from them, humming once more.

“A new play maybe?”

“That’s quite right.”

He cocked a brow, noting the young lad’s antsy behavior. His lips curled into a trademark grin. Perhaps in his youth, that smile would have been charming. Now, it was as broken as his mind.

His hazel gaze never left the splicer’s form. The male seemed to be an acrobat. At least, in Cohen’s perspective.

“Sadly, no. Poetry and prose. Short stories. When I write, the words flow naturally. I would love to write a play again, but my muse is a fickle bitch.”

He sneered, contempt visible in his eyes.

“Do you dance, dear boy?”

A random question, but his curiosity had been piqued.

mr-sander-cohen started following you


Ah, well, you know me sir.

-Hector downs the rest of his drink, eyeing the artist up and down with blurry eyes- 

Whaddya want, Cohen?

-Emits a humorless chuckle, the noise resonating throughout the room.-


Whatever is the matter, Rodriguez?

I can’t simply check up on my darling disciples~?

mr-sander-cohen started following you!


A sort of sinister chuckle came from the other man’s lips as he could see the irritation in Sander’s face. So easily upset- so that was what he heard. Completely off his rocker. Then again, who wasn’t? Rapture drove everyone mad eventually. That made artists bonkers.

“A moth?” There was a snap and crack sound of a Houdini splicer teleporting. The molecules hovered from the hiding place to a few feet away from the artist.

“I suppose so.”

The laughter pricked his senses; condescending, mocking. He sneered, his upper lip curling with the movement. He bared an uncanny resemblance to a feral canine. After a heavy intake of breath, he straightened himself out. Two ebony locks drooped over his brow. Cohen cleared his throat. His temper was certainly a force to be reckoned with.

So, why did this splicer attempt to test him?

Sander didn’t flinch upon hearing the distorted noise. Instead, he merely averted his gaze to the form. Already, he knew this fool wasn’t here to praise him. Similar to Harriet, he would be the gadfly that noisily buzzed in his ear.

“I see you decided to grace me with your lovely presence.”

His words dripped like honey. Yet, they carried a venomous undertone.

"mr-sander-cohen started following you"


He smiled, rolling onto his back, then kicking himself back up again. Turning on his heel to face the other, his head tilted to one side. How many times had he seen this mans plays and musicals? And then darted away before the man came out to greet the people? He remembered being nervous at the idea of meeting him..

Why was that?

“I don’t think I er’ saw you about, Sir.” He said, smiling, as he clambered back up onto the railing to stand on it.

Did he have a fan? Oh, that was quite lovely! His ego was rather bloated, thanks to this tidbit. Hazel orbs swam with delight as he studied the lad. Cohen’s frame reeked of pride. A slender hand rested on top of his chest. The Cheshire grin never left his ruby lips.

"Ah, well…"

He had to carefully mull over his diction.

"I’ve been rather busy as of late, dear boy."

Perhaps this one wasn’t a mere moth, after all…