#luhdian

“Why do you keep pacing?” A curious glance fills Vee’s eyes, and their head tilts ever-so-slightly. The other -- a boy with lavender-like hair -- looking increasingly frustrated with his current state.

The boy’s gaze was not on Sabata’s face either -- though less so for a lack of appreciation, and moreso for a lack of focus. Can you truly blame him for being bored in such a slow-paced environment?

Unfortunately, Bart could not stop the undead -- he was a speedster, not a magician -- nor was he affiliated with the sun or moon. That in and of itself made him susceptible to their attacks.

Also unfortunately -- that was not their only problem. The immortal the two were after after had been rumored to be working with a villain he was familiar with -- and that was why he was here.

Of course, that did not change the fact that Bart was fidgety and impatient. A whine escaped from his lips.

She exhales sharply through her nose. It’s as near to a laugh as she can give him.

“I’m just repeating what the guildsmen said. The man in green... Ernest, he said his name was, he was the one that said it. He had to do a double take when he saw me, he seemed very happy.”

Almost like he was greeting an old friend. Carmilla folds her hands in front of her; she’d sit as well, she has every right to, but it feels somehow odd to sit beside him uninvited.

“... I don’t think it’s so bad to be optimistic. I can’t object to anything that might be the only thing that keeps someone from giving into despair, you know?”

What is ‘normal’ in their case, anyway? For Carmilla it would have been centuries of isolation, each day and night drifting into the next until time blurred into itself. No matter how used to it she had gotten, she never enjoyed it. She looks forward to a future where happiness and warmth are commonplace, especially with - What the hell is he doing.

“Sabata? What-”

Her inquiry is silenced before it even starts. She’s at the edge of the bridge the second he’s jumped off of it, screaming his name in a panic. The fact that he resurfaces, fine as ever, is a comfort, but not much of one.

He secured the strap and slung it on his back, adjusting his goggles on his forehead while grabbing a pair with purple frames. Gun on his hip, sword against his back, he left his house for the Garage where he knew Sabata was going to be waiting.

So there was a sunny smile when he saw violet hair standing against the darker side of the building. Sabata’d been looking considerably better in the months since he was brought home. "Evenin' Sabata, ready to go?", Is said while the goggles are offered up. "These help a lot, you know."