#blackbourned

      ------HE SHOULD NOT have been surprised by her presence, in truth. time spent floating in and out of new york over his many seasoned years had information pouring out of the city like fresh blood from a grievous wound. her name was attached to one of the private investigation businesses ( what little rats those people were ) and she still kept her practiced magic out of circles. he glimpsed her from afar often, but never found it in him to approach. THERE HAD NEVER BEEN A REASON TO. explanations were sloppy, at the end of the day he had no desire to be reminded of his heart as it beat so obviously against his ribs. but now he didn’t have a reason to disappear. there was no reason to avoid her.

      clued into her drink from the bartender ( simply by asking, really ) he collected another round for himself and the witch and weaved like a cat through their owner’s legs to her. his expression was the practiced blank it always was when he stopped, though he admired he as he came to approach: flawless fair skin, soft dark hair, wide brown eyes, gentle features, the admirable slope of her neck ... and offered her liquor of choice out to her like a peace treaty. the  only war begun between them was the one he’d forged twenty years prior, silently.

      “ for you, ms. blackbourne. you look lovely. ”

-

      ------“ I DON’T WANT to go out into the world just yet, but i’m going absolutely fucking crazy in here. ” people came and went, a cycle between the same three regular visitors during his recovery and the council with their request to work. he’d have to swallow his desire to stay hidden like a little phantom and actually do what they wanted ... but not yet. maybe today could be the last day hiding in the safety and comfort of his home. MAYBE WHEN HE COULD ACTUALLY LOOK AT HIMSELF IN THE MIRROR WITHOUT FLINCHING HE’D BE REALLY READY. but that felt like years off from this moment, where he leaned against the doorway of his bedroom in his pajamas, arms crossed over his chest. his hair was mussed from the mass amounts of sleep he’d been filling his time with, but still dark circles persisted.

      “ do you want to see what i’ve been working on? ” he’d broach the subject of the business with her later. without waiting for an answer he pushed away from his post, moved through wide and softly echoing halls until he came to the only door in his home that was regularly shut ---his workshop. few people got to see the inside, even among those he considered the closest to him. it was a sacred space, somewhere he could decompress, somewhere he filled with his own energy. “ i haven’t been able to stay in here very long ... something about the room gives me a headache lately. i think it’s how quiet it is. ”