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VINCENT
Shadows were colder than snow. They crept behind him like malicious ghosts, spilling numb vacancy from the cavity of which they came, gorging themselves on the nightmares they wrought. Shadows could chase endlessly, moving with the same mortal gait and backward progression, always proving to be right on time. They licked massive heels that trod into the light with a foul black tongue that savored the worst of life. Vincent made his way until the crystals stopped sparking on the cavern's walls and the white, florid light ahead consumed him like beautiful heaven, washing the dark off of every crevice — a baptism.
Gold eyes shone into snowfall. He'd never witnessed so much white. There was enough of it to fear, but with one backward glance into the hole in the ground where he'd spent the last season under the Heart, shielding himself from the cavern's inhabitants, the exposure of such immediate white warmed him. Vincent always rooted to darkness, he was only at ease when day was dim. But something about the way the windy snow lifted gleaming flakes into weak rays, or maybe the way frosty breath felt ticklish and sweet on the back of his tongue, kept him standing there, awestruck at how light prevailed. Gentle snow beaded against inky fur, coat rippling as the wind hummed against him.
Inside his massive heart, he yearned for Archibald. He could almost hear his brother's footsteps in his furrowed pulse as golden gaze stretched into the morning's banks. He couldn't stop looking for him, Archi was all he had. It was as though he would appear beside him in one whisper of breeze and press his pink muzzle to Vincent's tall shoulder to guide him home. These were weary days, bending bleakly into one another as Vincent rattled about. He was not of stable mind; fatigue let his stomach forget about eating and inevitably he stopped caring about surviving. The sad fact was that he was emptier than his own stomach and it didn't hurt enough to fill it. He'd felt literally nothing for days but the numbly sounding, dull reminder of Archibald that dripped into his mind like a cavern's echo. There was nothing he could do but think about him, dream with his blaze against the smooth face of a large stalactite of days when Mandrake was his largest shadow and Archibald his greatest lantern.
Vincent stiffened against the gale as it came in huskier against his side, silver rivulets rippled closer in the sky. The morning storm was light and warm against a cold shadow that stood behind a new soul that wouldn't see it.
Gold eyes shone into snowfall. He'd never witnessed so much white. There was enough of it to fear, but with one backward glance into the hole in the ground where he'd spent the last season under the Heart, shielding himself from the cavern's inhabitants, the exposure of such immediate white warmed him. Vincent always rooted to darkness, he was only at ease when day was dim. But something about the way the windy snow lifted gleaming flakes into weak rays, or maybe the way frosty breath felt ticklish and sweet on the back of his tongue, kept him standing there, awestruck at how light prevailed. Gentle snow beaded against inky fur, coat rippling as the wind hummed against him.
Inside his massive heart, he yearned for Archibald. He could almost hear his brother's footsteps in his furrowed pulse as golden gaze stretched into the morning's banks. He couldn't stop looking for him, Archi was all he had. It was as though he would appear beside him in one whisper of breeze and press his pink muzzle to Vincent's tall shoulder to guide him home. These were weary days, bending bleakly into one another as Vincent rattled about. He was not of stable mind; fatigue let his stomach forget about eating and inevitably he stopped caring about surviving. The sad fact was that he was emptier than his own stomach and it didn't hurt enough to fill it. He'd felt literally nothing for days but the numbly sounding, dull reminder of Archibald that dripped into his mind like a cavern's echo. There was nothing he could do but think about him, dream with his blaze against the smooth face of a large stalactite of days when Mandrake was his largest shadow and Archibald his greatest lantern.
Vincent stiffened against the gale as it came in huskier against his side, silver rivulets rippled closer in the sky. The morning storm was light and warm against a cold shadow that stood behind a new soul that wouldn't see it.
welcome the bloodshed with gold in our eyes
@[Morir]
I raised myself.
My legs were weak.
I prayed my mind be good to me.
