[ Despite the possible tease, his tragic assumption on her meaning is actually quite apt for precisely what she’s saying. She has brought his past back to haunt him, but he is the one trapping himself with it, if he hadn't already. Now that she’s here, she can help point him in a different direction. Escape that way, to the devil you don’t know. She will be certain he knows by the end of this meeting that Cazador is not the one he ought to worry about.
He seems to have no love for his master beyond the loyalty inspired by trauma, so there should be no manner of affection keeping him in service to a vampire who isn’t here and may never be. Vanessa, however, is right here in front of him. ]
The pains brought on by horrors made intimate can be so sharp that they can seem to cut out everything but a numb heart and cracked bones.
[ Her hands fold carefully over her lap, bandaged thumb hidden. ]
You attend your own funeral, but was it yesterday, or centuries ago? How many times now? Control is lost, direction is forgotten—memory is then, and now, and then, and then, and now. This numbness may as well be home, where past is present.
[ While she speaks, there is an undercurrent of tension in her tone, with a glance cast down to her bandaged thumb toward the middle stanza. Only a moment, and eyes like ice are once more on him. ]
Such memories can never be forgotten, but they need not trap you. From pain, to trance, to release. You can fill the emptiness with more pain and more memories, until there is no more room for anything else and you are soon consumed.
[ As she glances him over one more time, her head tilts with a slight dip of her chin. ]
Or you can embrace hope. Hope for a better release—another chance.
no subject
[ Despite the possible tease, his tragic assumption on her meaning is actually quite apt for precisely what she’s saying. She has brought his past back to haunt him, but he is the one trapping himself with it, if he hadn't already. Now that she’s here, she can help point him in a different direction. Escape that way, to the devil you don’t know. She will be certain he knows by the end of this meeting that Cazador is not the one he ought to worry about.
He seems to have no love for his master beyond the loyalty inspired by trauma, so there should be no manner of affection keeping him in service to a vampire who isn’t here and may never be. Vanessa, however, is right here in front of him. ]
The pains brought on by horrors made intimate can be so sharp that they can seem to cut out everything but a numb heart and cracked bones.
[ Her hands fold carefully over her lap, bandaged thumb hidden. ]
You attend your own funeral, but was it yesterday, or centuries ago? How many times now? Control is lost, direction is forgotten—memory is then, and now, and then, and then, and now. This numbness may as well be home, where past is present.
[ While she speaks, there is an undercurrent of tension in her tone, with a glance cast down to her bandaged thumb toward the middle stanza. Only a moment, and eyes like ice are once more on him. ]
Such memories can never be forgotten, but they need not trap you. From pain, to trance, to release. You can fill the emptiness with more pain and more memories, until there is no more room for anything else and you are soon consumed.
[ As she glances him over one more time, her head tilts with a slight dip of her chin. ]
Or you can embrace hope. Hope for a better release—another chance.