[ The sight of her name alongside nearly makes her scowl, but Vanessa resists like she has with so much else in her short miserable life. She shouldn't be surprised. If anything, this only makes her feel more assured that witchcraft is involved. The knowing is a comfort in its own. She reaches for her device before glancing to his. ]
A stray, is it?
[ A thought that brings back that pinch in her breast as another who has never belonged. Throughout her life, how long has she wandered from place to place just to find the strength to take just one— more— step?
She has her friends, would even call some family, but that bed would always be as temporary as all of the others. They would never accept her completely. No matter what Ethan says, she knows they would do anything to stop her ugliness from being unleashed if they had to; as they should and as she would pray for. But deeper, even deeper than that, the longer she walks this path the more she worries that she might one day abandon prayer just for a scrap of what little love has been offered, no matter how twisted. What would the world matter when there is no color?
Down both paths lie their own form of ruin. An understanding she carries but will never be content with. She has never been content. Not even with Mina.
Vanessa would never readily refer to herself as a beast, but she is and she can understand the life of never knowing a real home where monsters can be loved and cherished for what they truly are. She appreciates the choice. It makes her no less sad; for the both of them. Vengeance is unlikely to lead anyone to a place called home. ]
In your own way, you have the heart of a poet, Mr. Rammsteiner.
[ It's offered with a half-smile, almost something approaching a gentle humor, before she slips her device back into her bag. ]
I will be certain to contact you in turn, should I discover anything that you may make use of. Have you yet decided where you will be resting when not on the hunt?
[ She will not say 'live' or 'stay'. Vanessa plans to do neither of those things. ]
no subject
A stray, is it?
[ A thought that brings back that pinch in her breast as another who has never belonged. Throughout her life, how long has she wandered from place to place just to find the strength to take just one— more— step?
She has her friends, would even call some family, but that bed would always be as temporary as all of the others. They would never accept her completely. No matter what Ethan says, she knows they would do anything to stop her ugliness from being unleashed if they had to; as they should and as she would pray for. But deeper, even deeper than that, the longer she walks this path the more she worries that she might one day abandon prayer just for a scrap of what little love has been offered, no matter how twisted. What would the world matter when there is no color?
Down both paths lie their own form of ruin. An understanding she carries but will never be content with. She has never been content. Not even with Mina.
Vanessa would never readily refer to herself as a beast, but she is and she can understand the life of never knowing a real home where monsters can be loved and cherished for what they truly are. She appreciates the choice. It makes her no less sad; for the both of them. Vengeance is unlikely to lead anyone to a place called home. ]
In your own way, you have the heart of a poet, Mr. Rammsteiner.
[ It's offered with a half-smile, almost something approaching a gentle humor, before she slips her device back into her bag. ]
I will be certain to contact you in turn, should I discover anything that you may make use of. Have you yet decided where you will be resting when not on the hunt?
[ She will not say 'live' or 'stay'. Vanessa plans to do neither of those things. ]