#victor-gideon

Leon was resting, still a little groggy but less pale

I feel better... thanks for the help.

Leon set down his phone and turned the screen off

The forest had grown unnaturally quiet. Even the birds had fallen silently. Above the dense canopy, heavy storm clouds rolled across the evening sky, swallowing the last traces of daylight. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled low and long, promising that the rain would not be far behind.

Bela slowed her pace. She had been returning to Castle Dimitrescu after gathering autumns along the edge of the village, yet something had caught her attention.

Someone was here. Not her sisters. Not a villager either. And... Not entirely human. Her golden eyes settled on the lone figure standing among the pines. There was something undeniably off about him, an unfamiliar scent carried on the damp breeze, something living... yet altered. It stirred a cautious curiosity within her.

Had Miranda created another experiment? Or was this something else entirely?

Karl rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated gesture of defiance. As much as he could perceive by his otherworldly senses, by noise and steps, the others lowered their weapons and slinked backward; he himself even took time to spun around and sneer at them. Thus he wholeheartedly agreed that sending the gents out was the wisest thing to do.

He found his eyes drawn to the tall, pale-faced man behind the desk, who was methodically lowering a medical folder. A hush fell over the engineer as he finally registered more properly the presence stuck with him; not a regular guard, therapist, or who knows what- talking… and when realization hit him, voice raspy and loud, carrying the full volume of a man used to shouting over engines, quietened, if not smoothed, entertainingly.

     " H'oooooh, ... looks like we found ourselves a proper doc around 's place. "

Scarred face twisting into a cynical smirk as Victor stepped out from behind the desk and began to circle him. Those manic twin-moon nearly glowing behind pair of round shades. Noting, no —- tracking precisely details despite man's half-hidden face and high-tech visor, that everything about him spoke in language of 'inhumane', the forked tongue, black, stained-porcelain skin, like a snake.

" Do I look like I need a check-up? Trust me, I'm the kind of guy one would likely not wish to give assistance, '' he let out a low, gravelly huff of amusement, '' listen, sorry for the mess. I wouldn't like to kick the rest of your fancy doors down; I'll just take something and go. "

oslo: what’s more important: work or love?