#imperatrixing

( Oʀ ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘs, ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ.) Vlad sat alone on one of the benches outside along the street. The glow of signs and restaurants still open at this time behind him.  He rubbed his chin awkwardly and sighed. He could not describe himself much, nor did he want to think about how much he changed from what he saw himself as. He rubbed his chin. Beard... He tugged at his bangs. Silver? hair?  (Saying gray hurt his soul ).  Black Armor, The most identifiable part of him. and a red shawl. He had admitted to wearing the armor until she showed up- eliciting a silly comment from Morrigan, of course, but for the evening planned, it did him no use.     He could only wait.            ....  Wᴀs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴀɪɴ?

         “WHAT OF YOURSELF? YOU ARE NOT UNLIKE SOME I HAVE KNOWN. PERHAPS I AM CURIOUS AND INTERESTED IN KEEPING YOU COMPANY.”

@imperatrixing​

Good lord it’s almost as if he’d never seen a video game before. 

He called her with a payphone. “ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ.” What had followed were the jumbled words of a fatigued man trying to piece together where he had turned up after ‘death’. Street signs he attempted to read and area’s he attempted to describe. He knew this area. He had to. He was not far from his dwellings, but farther than he was able to carry himself. No visible injuries with his armor on, yet memories and ghosts lingered.  His body still racked with pain. So, he waited, waited, collapsed and slumped against a building wall. The familiar presence, even fuzzy beckoned his attention. And conforming that it was indeed his friend, he lifted an arm for her when she came close. “Thank you.”