#bookofvesper

@bookofvesper​ said: ❛ i’ll never be that me again. ❜ - bookofvesper

{ 🪶 }

     A sharp crack, like the sound of lightning splitting a tree, echoed in the night. The veil had torn, split, and seeped a white mist over the ground that wilted the grass to dust. A demon emerged from the tear, dripping black ichor from its scales as it went. It crawled piteously, exhausted from its ordeals in the plane before -- all of which it couldn’t recall beyond a name. Vicros. 

     That was his true name, the creature decided. Why else would the name be so ingrained in his mind? It was attached to a purpose. Protect. Protect what? The balor turned its horned head, searching for the creature that had guided him through the River. It would know his purpose. 

     Instead, his gaze fell upon a mortal woman, partially hidden by distant clump of bushes. Using a nearby tree to steady himself, he pulled his body upward to stand at his full height and tower over her. Such a little thing. Sad, truly.

He still doesn't want to believe that she's actually here, actually in front of him, actually alive, when he saw so many bodies and couldn't be sure if one of them was her's. Percy's grip on his pepperbox tightens, and he looks away.

     Westruun’s crowds never ceased to annoy Percy, the bustle and noise only adding to headaches started hours beforehand from travelling. He thought maybe waking early in the morning would help him in his attempt to wander the city and get some shopping done, but it seemed the citizens had other plans - or horrible sleeping schedules. 

“S’cuse me, pardon me,” the man grumbles, forcing his way through a particularly thick bunch before appearing on the other side, seeing the blacksmith’s shop just in sight. Only, it wasn’t the blacksmith that had caught his attention. A woman, whose face seemed to bring back far too many nightmares - walked before him and into a near shop, vanishing before his eyes as if she truly were the ghost he thought she was. 

Percival's hands clasped together weakly in front of him. His posture remaining dignified despite the pain in his chest.

Dignified in posture but he stared to an extent that may have been considered rude. Not at her particularly but past her, in her direction, her being. He was far away within the confines of his own mind. Talks of discounts and heroes were distant sounds.

Her voice, her movements. Far too close to his sister for his own comfort. Reliving echoes of the past, his eyes eventually drifted down to the book taking in the details, the leather and paper of it's construct.

He was haunted. He was sure of it. This was Vesper. His Vesper. His sister. But he couldn’t bring himself to the moment. He was scared to some extent scared to call it into question. At least for the moment, he was barely present.

Percy blinks, realizing she was waiting for him and as he looks forward it hits him at once. Heavy, like a smack to the face.

It was so nostalgic. It was like he was back home, it was like it was before even the Briarwoods.