#ghostpining

     TRUTH BE told, he wasn’t expecting his brother to have any guests. While far from being an hermit of sorts, it was also true that living in the middle of the woods cut off a lot of chances for social interactions - so when he heard the door creak open and a young voice address him he couldn’t entirely hide his surprise. A light sparkled deep inside his eyes, then was quickly swallowed as he offered her a friendly smile. A young girl, even. Truly had him wonder what  Gwenaël was up to that he had missed.

     “I’m in no—rush. I don’t mind sitting here a—while and waiting for—him." A light chuckle followed him as he stepped inside the house and headed to the kitchen without faltering. In such a familiar place only a closer look would’ve revealed the veil before his eyes, but judging by the noises she was making it’d be a long time before she noticed. Fingers brushed against the surface of the table, ran into an empty cup, which clinked on its saucepan with a squeak-like sound. Outside the cottage all was silent. The sunset painted the room vivid shades of orange and red - and for a moment, for the briefest of moments the crimson on Sin’s fingers resembled blood that was still fresh.

       ... He’ll die?  That’s preposterous.  Not only is it because this young man came to supposedly save him from his former attacker only to follow up with threatening his life, himself, but vampires?  What nonsense.  “  S — ..So then ... why ...  why did you — ?  ”  Gilbert grimaces, pressing his back against the cool brick wall, tightening his grip on his ribs. 

      huff.  wheeze.  gasp —  

     COMING BACK always felt natural, if not even bound to happen. The time to get back on the road and head into the woods and towards a single familiar cottage would always come, and he'd always pack his few belongings without complaining, as if he were simply answering a call. His feet would always find their way back to her, and he would always walk by the spot after which he'd start running, racing past trees and bushes and hidden deers that'd look at the human-looking creature and hear the melodies pouring out of him as if they were weighing him down and he were discarding them for his own survival. There was always that smell of freedom in the air - a vibration that rang through the whole forest and beckoned him closer, allowing him to leave bits of his disguise behind. Few other moments felt this freeing.

     And then he would - and he did now - stop in front of Adelheid's cottage and know her door was already open for her to come in and hop on top of the steps of the porch and see her again and think that having a mother must have felt this way or close to it, so very close he could almost begin to understand that feeling.

HE HAS been content with strumming a casual tune on his guitar for the past few minutes and, well - he might be guilty of kind of forgetting Wren was there with him until they launge forward and wrap him in a lazy embrace. He doesn't move, just stops playing, and looks up at them from above his shoulder, his gaze questioning but ready for whatever answer they might give him. It will be a good one for sure, he knows it will.

And Wren really doesn't disappoint him, and the smile spreading on Sy's lips in return has little of human. A few pieces of his disguise are stuck on it, but most of it looks different. Not quite right. An excitement that feels too wild to belong to this world, an eagerness that could kill if he decided to fully listen to it. But this is not the case.

     he screams when cats are in his space.