prphyrik:
“ IS THERE A DIFFERENCE? ” as if how pointed his voice becomes is a compensation for where the receded, pallid gumline the color returns, the flesh relaxes, for where between the sharp pronunciation of his consonants the tell-tale signs of his affliction seem to nearly vanish entirely. it seeps towards the rest of him in equal slowness, as diffusing ink in water — how visible it is that the skin returns to flush, the razor’s edge of where skin stretches tight against bone as a canvas on its frame rounding itself out to a healthy complexion. “ you see, ” vicente continues, gentle tone in stark contrast to iron grip, “ he has never really been the sort who has many friends, especially not ones he sees more as meals. you can pardon me if i find myself a bit skeptical. then again, perhaps it would have made sense, then, why he seems to have failed to mention anything about you. you must understand my concern. ” no, there’s really no time for ‘later.’ the spike of concern ( for jak? no, it had to be for the rest of them -) feels like metal in his chest. the pressure of it all only superheats it. “ you still have the daylight hours, for now. it would probably be better we get this over with sooner rather than later. after all, we do have a mutual acquaintance. ” a nod of the head to the corpse below - “ he won’t be going anywhere soon, either, but perhaps this is better suited elsewhere. if you plan on leaving, rest assured, i do have time, but it’s much easier for us both to stay put. ”
THERE’S NO HIDING THE FEAR NOW. the way his body lightly quivers, the breathing he’s struggling to keep steady. at the nod to the corpse he gasps, imagining his own body in lieu of the man’s, a burned hand unwillingly moving to cover his mouth. it’s a moment before he can will himself to speak again, regaining enough of his wit about him to begin to formulate words.
‘ no, no, of course, good sir. i understand, of course, i really do-- i’m not sure how to prove it, you see-- ’ he stumbles over his own words, as careless as a dumb & dumbfounded child. ‘ i could tell you one of his stories? he told me of when he was turned- in a place called taren’s crypt, of when he was a graverobber, ambushed- ’
val wonders if the other is able to hear just how loudly his heart beats, threatening to flutter out of his chest at any moment.
‘ you have to believe me---- you’re right, he doesn’t view me as a friend or a partner, merely someone to tell stories to, to bring him back to the days of when he was springheel jak-- ’ never does his voice slow, or lose that choppy mannerism. he doesn’t even realize when his eyes begin to grow glossy with almost tears. ‘ my name is valirenn, perhaps he mentioned me merely in passing, please, you have to believe me! ’











