Arsenic-S
❧━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━❧
ץσυ αre тнe s n o w s t o r m, ι'm pυrιғιed.______________________
______________________тнe dαrkesт f a i r y t a l e, ιn тнe deαd oғ nιɢнт
❧━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━❧
“Erik… That was- Days ago. A week- two? And you… You did not sleep much before the masque either, I remember.”
A quiet but coarse sigh escaped him. This was not exactly a conversation he had hoped to have that evening-- or, rather, morning. But his body had betrayed him and he knew the concern she carried all too well, the subject being something familiar, to some degree… It was not the first time she had expressed worry toward that troubled lack of self-care… Whatever the reason behind it.
Erik had not often delved into the, logistics per say, of why. Partially because, to some level, he did not even know the answer himself. The entire affair of food and rest had always proven difficult for him, even when specifically attempted, particularly as he had aged. Yet somehow, it had naturally improved ever since the peace of Marugerite’s company had come to him, perhaps because it had brought him some variety of peace of mind. But as soon as she had been gone? Seemingly ripped away from him?
”…I thought if I destroyed myself, trying to find you, that you would never forgive me…”
The words stung, but he knew them to be true and justifiable in her eyes, though they nonetheless elicited a visible grimace. “... It is not always a matter of sheer unwillingness.” He grumbled quietly, more to himself that her. But what else was he to do with this? Argue? Claim that he had no choice in the matter? He had neither the energy nor the desire to do so. She would think what she would and the only true bitterness he felt was that the circumstance was true at all-- much less that she would have to suffer the knowledge of it.
The tug at his hand drew him to his feet before he could choose to stand of his own accord and once stable there, he peered down at her, that uncovered expression his own shade of exhausted defeat, colouring the edges of his gaze and produced a strained frown though he did not attempt to address it.
“No.” He answered plainly to her next question, shifting his gaze briefly toward her hand. “Perhaps not as much as you or Nadir would prefer-- but certainly more often than a… year ago.” A year ago, when he had resigned himself to death-- his former home a veritable tomb… When the disregard was only conducive to that which he had already accepted. In truth, the recollection sickened him-- realizing then how close to the end he had brought himself… How easily he could have missed, this. But oh, he had tried his hand at nourishment, even in her absence. But he could only warrant it so much thought while consumed with the notion that she could be gone entirely.
He’d turned by then, beginning down the path though retaining a loose hold upon her hand assuming she would hold to the same, murmuring beneath his breath: “For now… We can simply return to the Inn.”
Erik // Isabella // Nadir // Landan // Christine // Adelaide
❧━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━❧
ooc . . .
music . . . Truman Sleeps [Glass] ♫
art . . .© Shikorimu
