RAGE

A  smile  found  its  way  over  the  pale  lips  of  the  faint  spirit  at  last.

❝৺ ጉ נ   ㄷ८コㅗ   ત ટ д . ☨ ک ८ ป д .❞

TRUST  was  immediately  recognized  AND  FULLY  APPRECIATED.  It  in  the  very  least  put  the  Yurei  more  at  ease.  Not  enough  to  think  for  even  a  moment  about  leaving  his  post,  of  course—-but  it  brought  a  certain  peace  of  mind  you  can  only  really  have  when  you're  sure.  

 No  matter  what  happened  tonight…  if  anything  happened  tonight...  or  what  might  happen  tomorrow  night,  or  the  night  beyond  that...  The  Crawling  Man  would  protect  Eris,  and  Eris  would  be  fine.  No  harm  would  come  to  pass.

The  Crawling  Man  settled  in  that  of  a  proper  sit  -  with  his  hands  resting  over  his  legs  and  his  legs  neatly  tucked.  He  watched  Eris  fall  asleep.

And  he  waited  to  see  what  would  happen.

.  .  .

Eris  woke  up  almost  four  hours  later  to  the  sound  of  skull  meeting  wood.

He  felt  the  impact  through  the  framework  of  his  bed.

an undercurrent of fear washed over him. after all, he was only human - even the stoic eris felt that hind brain itch of primal fear in the face of the grisly and macabre. to compound his shock was the fact that he had just woken up and needed a moment to gather his bearings. in that time, his would-be assailants had been dealt with. they only twitched post mortem. a testament to the crawling yurei's promise of protection.

the blankets were pushed aside and his legs placed over the edge of the bed. care was taken when deciding how to disembark from the mattress, his desire to keep his bare toes out of blood and whatever else stronger than it perhaps should've been. focused on the wrong problem, maybe. after sitting there for a time, simply staring in silence, a timid knock sounded at his door. dreamily, he side stepped gore to answer it. just a little crack, enough that his slender stature could block the view inside.

a few of the other orphans, faces tired but concerned, had come to check on him. it had been a rather loud, scary noise; less of a bump in the night, and moreso a bang. he assured them it was alright. nothing to worry about - to go back to bed. hesitation made a couple linger, but another reassurance coaxed them away. he shut the door, softly.

turning towards the ghost and his prey, eris leaned against the door. a hand ran through his bangs, pushing them back. for a minute longer, he just stared. then - a whisper.

No words coming from either side. That's good. Clearly, both understood that stating the obvious or getting lost in needless banther would amount to nothing but waste time, air and patience, and Enki knew they needed plenty of those. Even a word spoken too loudly would mean death in the Dungeons: the priests right behind the corner might still be focused on their sacrifice, but the torturer that cowardly nobleman they had the… 'pleasure' to run into a few minutes before talked about wouldn't be as polite.

His pale fingers reached out for the book, then, pressing the tip of the index on its cover: that alone was enough to make him feel a shiver go up his spine, reaching each bone and muscle in his body. A sensation of dread in the most sublime of forms, strong enough to make his stomach turn… and let a rare grin form on his face.

"The Necronomicon.", he couldn't stop himself from whispering, taking a deep breath as he reached out to take it and barely holding himself back from opening it and reading it. That would be foolish. But oh, so tempting…!

... and enki was foisting it upon him, like a pack mule.

gawain sucked on his teeth, a clear noise of disapproval heard even from behind his mask; but he still accepted the heavy book, laden with both numerous pages and numerous secrets. "naturally..." came the rather sardonic reply, tome safely tucked away soon after. he could have asked if it was too heavy for the priest, he had the retort clearly in the corner of his mind's eye - but it would be a waste of breath and time. bickering had no place within these dreary, malice filled dungeons. the hunter instead cocked his head towards the door, arms crossing loosely over his chest.

He  was  preoccupied. In  fact,  even  with  that  hand  in  his  hair  -  the  Yurei  was  unchanged.  Leaning  his  head  into  the  other’s  palm  as  to  accept  the  affection  -  but  without  the  usual  SMILE  that  came  attached.  Almost  completely  devoid  of  reaction.  

It  might  be  a  little  jarring  to  see  him  like  this,  especially  for  an  extended  time  —  it  was  UNUSUAL,  ABNORMAL,  very  unlike  him.

What  was  even  moreso—

❝৺ ጉ נ…  д д ८ ኅ  々 ሰ π п.❞ (Me…  not  -  rest.)

-was  him  not  coming  to  bed.   Especially  after  insisting  he  stay.

He’d  been  watching  -  STIFF  AND  UNMOVING  -  as  Eris  made  room  for  him  on  the  bed  and  invited  him  to  sleep.  A  SILENCE  HUNG  IN  THE  AIR  before  he  altogether  declined.  And,  for  whatever  reason,  he  made  it  a  point  to  even  pull  himself  away,  shuffling  off  to  the  door.  

Maybe  to  avoid  the  temptation  or  maybe  as  a  cold  shoulder—  though  that  would  be  very  confusing...  Eris  had  never  done  anything  to  garner  the  yurei's  ire.

whatever it was that had perturbed the yurei, eris didn't push for him to drop his concerns. he didn't plead for him to come back to bed and sleep beside him. whether he knew something or was simply feeling restless, eris was content to respect his decision. he had built up enough trust with the ghost to know that with him standing watch while he was in the vulnerable repose of slumber - no harm would come to pass.

Refreshing, the drink was sipped this time. The strong odor of liquor didn't waft off this one as it did from the others. While someone else might've complained, she silently appreciated him. If she wanted, she could still have her five drinks and possibly be able to walk home only buzzed. While short, her fast metabolism, thanks to her lycanthropy, allowed for only short periods of being inebriated. Her current drink at least had an enjoyable flavor she planned to savor as she patiently waited for Eris' response.

"A good showdown with a bear or boar would require quite a few more of these." Faye tapped the glass, her growing smile becoming less forced. It was no longer the one a wolf wore around a stray pack of dogs, aware it was outnumbered and ready to tear out as many throats as possible. Her grin did falter slightly at the mention of persistent wolves.

"Most tend to be that way. Especially if they really want somethin'." Her glass was emptied with a deep gulp. Setting it down on the paper napkin, she propped her head up with her hand. At the mention of dryads, she looked at him.

The name was familiar, but she couldn't quite picture what they looked like. Likely another nuisance she'd soon be forced to endure once the deal went through. Bad enough living in a cave.

she turned the topic over to him and he managed a wry smile. the questions weren't especially shocking. it had only been a matter of time before she'd asked him how he'd come to acquire this strange plethora of knowledge.

"not everything." he answered tepidly. he would've liked to know more, honestly; but that unquenchable quality of his was the very thing that had gotten him to this odd crossroads he stood at today. knowing too much to turn away, but still not having a full enough picture to really take matters into his own hands and wrangle fate's divine neck like he wished to. a little shrug of one shoulder. one of the other patrons at the bar called for him to refill their drink, but he cooly brushed them off.

"a mix of both, probably. it's not like i set out to get involved in all the muck of this shitehole, but it's hard not to step in it when it's all over the bloody place." the same patron groused at the end of the bar, calling for eris once more. he got a beer out and tossed it at the guy, who fumbled to catch it; it clearly hadn't been what they wanted, but eris met the statement with a dismissive "you wanna come back here and make yourself a drink?" punctuated with a raised brow and a dangerous look in his red eyes. the guy seemed to want to argue further, but quickly decided it wasn't worth it.

The 'no' is met with a single nod of acknowledgment before Lee steps back to let Eris head over to the scale and stand on it. He notes the weight, nods again, scribbles it down; does the same for the height. Then, he watches closely as Eris sits back down before asking what the reason for his visit is.

Dissociation is the answer.

"I see. There could be a number of reasons for dissociation: surviving or witnessing severe events, anxiety, emotional conflict, PTSD, ADHD...even just exhaustion can make someone disconnect."

"How frequently do you dissociate?"

the smile left him and his face settled back into something more tepid.

"...often enough for it to be a problem." he didn't like the disjointed feeling. it messed with his reaction time, his depth perception, his balance... it knocked him off center in a way that was dangerous for somebody who relied so wholly upon themselves; if he couldn't protect himself because his mind was too busy reeling from whatever, he was as good as useless. at that point he'd be better off holed up in his room, yet he didn't have the luxury of breaks. there was no stopping for eris - only the rapid go go go of his routine survival.

He shoves it against Gawain's breast, inciting him to take it with a pushing force that suggests he won't allow refusal as an answer.

The descent from a living world into a dreary underworld was unnoticeable to naked eye. Transient cages ripple out upon Curze's entry and soon the forest, plain && aimless, would devolve into a stack of labyrinths. Nature was soon hostile, jagged, in display as it furls in awkward twists and ruts into the soil, purposeful in its disorientation. A stray trap or two. A deer might leap along the fringes, yet the fair visage of benign prey was too haggard with the rest —— antlers winding around and puncturing into its own neck. It runs from a wilding pack of coyotes packed with muscle their hides could not hold, bulging and engorged while in ferocious pursuit.

Whilst the path seems to extend with each step, eventually there would be a lonesome castle tucked into a comfortable alcove within a nest of seedy limbs. Night Haunter ascends up weathered stone steps, muttering beneath his breath with a Noachian tongue until the chiseled stone doors groaned from their slumber and yawned wide open to accept new company.

" I won't welcome you, that much is implied, but I will help you to the feasting of my home, " said Curze, skirting past niceties and allowing the choice statement pieces of morbid taxidermy to speak for themselves.

perhaps he would mourn the loss of his adversary, even if he claimed he wouldn't. funny, that the very creature of the night gawain had sought to slay for nigh a decade would perhaps be one of the only people in the world that would note his absence, when the time came. wouldn't it thus be poetic if he were to be the one to take that honor? would konrad enjoy playing executioner to his hunter, or would it be a bittersweet affair?

the limbs cradled in one arm gloved arm, gawain could not deny the care that curze must have put into plying the flesh into delicate petals. it was a morbid display, yet too did it hold a kind of beauty. his mother had been fond of flowers; she had tried once, when he was but a bud himself, to teach him her joys. he hadn't been as enthusiastic, a child itching to finish her lessons in favor of his fathers, but he could still recall the gardens that she showed him. her personal favorite had been Iasomie, dainty white jasmines, and the dignified magnolie - magnolia flowers. she had imparted the meaning of flowers upon a young gawain and while most of those lessons had been forgotten, he could still recall the vivid red of poppy flowers; their soft, wide petals and their lone, melancholy black eyes.

it was said that the poppy was created first by the goddess demeter, in her winter sorrow, as a means of bringing peaceful slumber in the absence of her beloved persephone. so too did the chthonic gods of sleep, night, and gentle death make the poppy known as their symbol. the craftsmanship konrad had poured into his gruesome mimicry was too neat, too reverent in keeping as close to that godly flower, for gawain to mistake his choice as mere whim. had this been his earlier days, he may have assumed curze was mocking him... but now, as he followed him through the bitter night, he too felt like demeter with her grief-soothing poppies.

he was not welcomed but neither was he turned away. curze's castle was much of what could be expected - but outside from a stray glance, gawain did not make comment. he felt no need to balk at the installations; it was no different to him than the cold stone walls or the grimy floor beneath his heels. it was curze, and gawain had already allowed him to leave his flowers in his arms. was this not acceptance already?