@viernas vierna : β you can't hide in a little town like this. β
HE HAS MADE SO MANY ATTEMPTS TO OUTRUN HIS PAST THAT HE CAN NOT EVEN RECALL WHERE EXACTLY HE STOPPED COUNTING. it has proven to be not just exhausting but, quite possibly, simply undoable. that it is his nothing but spite and stubbornness that keeps him going still is, in itself, the paradoxical proof why it is fruitless. for SPITE AND STUBBORNNESS are qualities undoubtedly handed down to him by his family. they'd call it ambition. like they tend to paint every action and trait of theirs in lights that make them appear admirable, so far above the rest - ugliness not tolerated in the swanson household. it irks him (at times borders on infuriating) that perhaps his love for anything artistic and beautiful might have its roots in his bloodline as well ...
on the more blissful days, he manages to not dwell on it all too much. simply exists. does what he needs to to get by - that mostly entails thieving - and spares as few thoughts as possible to the possibility that one day, most likely, someone will identify him. it is why he, himself, never goes out of his way to linger too long on faces, observant as he may be. takes in everything else, postures and gestures, voices, but keeps his glances into people's eyes as brief as possible for fear that someone might recognize his.
it's a slip-up on his end. something that so rarely happens these days when he heavily relies on being careful - but he thinks them an apparition at first just coming to a halt less than two feet from him by the dock. it would hardly be the first time he finds himself haunted by ghosts and it matters little that the sun has not set yet. a certain type of demon finds you at any time of day. only thing unusual is that this particular kind of ghost does not strike fear in him but something warmer. he struggles, like he always has, to put a name to any emotion that is not linked to anger, fear or, indeed, just curiosity.
confirmation, both of his sanity and still remarkable eyesight, follows swift and he's thankful he is not left wondering. he would laugh if it did not hit a nerve in the way it had. " you can hide anywhere. " it's been years since he'd last spoken to them. that seems evidence enough: anywhere. even in plain sight.
" it does not count as being FOUND when you were not hiding from who runs into you in the first place. so i actually think i will be fine. you, though, should not be here. " if he ever found himself wondering what their reunion would be like, this did not make it on the list. the strangeness of encountering your past by pure chance is no doubt weaving through his every word, the exchange bordering on odd but whatever else aaron might have to say, might have to ask, has to wait. "they are patrolling after nightfall. come with. we will speak after."
