VARUS
tell me father, which to ask forgiveness for?
what i am, or what i'm not?
what i am, or what i'm not?
He still has no clue who Aedion is, but he’d simply compare it to the idea that good looks crop up more than once through the worlds, but he doesn’t know what Aedion looks like – doesn’t know that it looks like he’s stolen his face. All he knows is that he’s been stuck for a while, his arm is mangled, and he’s a bit pissed off at getting stuck in Queen’s Gambit of all places for however long it was. “Three hundred years?” He questions with a tilt of his head – he’ll get the full story from Isla later, but for now he’s still under some quiet assumption it’s only been a few months.
Time was hard to tell when one was Ascended and had also been in stasis a while.
She picks up the blade and the rest of the items are forgotten as he steps closer to her and she meets the distance with him, Varus pausing and letting his gaze drop to the outstretched wrist. He’s a soldier and he’s certainly the type that doesn’t miss up an opportunity – especially when he’s become as weak as he has (for quite possibly three hundred years as she’s said).
“Thanks.” He says with a sigh, reaching out with his good arm to grip her wrist – surprisingly light compared to the harder exterior they both seem to have – and he wastes little time in lifting her wrist to his lips, and sinking his fangs in deep.
Time was hard to tell when one was Ascended and had also been in stasis a while.
She picks up the blade and the rest of the items are forgotten as he steps closer to her and she meets the distance with him, Varus pausing and letting his gaze drop to the outstretched wrist. He’s a soldier and he’s certainly the type that doesn’t miss up an opportunity – especially when he’s become as weak as he has (for quite possibly three hundred years as she’s said).
“Thanks.” He says with a sigh, reaching out with his good arm to grip her wrist – surprisingly light compared to the harder exterior they both seem to have – and he wastes little time in lifting her wrist to his lips, and sinking his fangs in deep.
tell me mother, which should i regret?
what i became, or what i didn't?
what i became, or what i didn't?
