&&.❜ CHOSENSAVIOR
the night's zephyr was crisp, wintry flurries descending past the small window of the room that occupies the left wing of wool's orphanage. dark, haunted eyes ( eyes that have been dead for fifty-four years as of this night. ) peek out into the night, gazing, searching for something. it was mid december, blankets of white slush coated the ground with freezing temperatures--- just like the ghostly white flesh on his body. this room had been desolate since the day he died; when the accident happened. ( a lonely eight year old as fate gave the word, the arrow sped, and pierc’d his heart. ) for they had just been playing, right? they didn't dream it would kill him. & the matron, oh the matron, the old wench did nothing! but no matter, because it seems the vacancy was going to change ... very soon.
it seems he won't be alone anymore.
the boy looked to be a bit younger than tom had been when he died, judging by his petite form. dark eyes remained on the boy as the matron--- a new one, he noticed--- showed the new arrival his new room. ( it was clear the other children hadn't spoken with him about this room. the others had been too petrified to even walk by the closed door. ) tom was seated in the far corner of the room, tiny ball in hand as he tossed it & bounced it off the wall multiple times as the matron left. people could only see him if he willed it, and he made sure the boy could see him.
once that it was made clear the boy’s eyes were on him, tom abruptly ceased tossing the ball and slowly, eerily turned his gaze to lock with the other in the room. no words were spoken, he just gazed.
❛ ........----- ❜
