Lee removes the doll from his coat pocket, examining it in his hands. It’s a bit worse for wear; the stitching at the limbs is coming off, and the fabric near its chest is wilted and weathered.
He’ll have to find a way to fix that.
Rapio had a point, the bastard. Lee’s summoning ability hadn’t been taken away, so it was free to order him around.
Lee has some restraint and respect for Sam’s wishes, but it had been a very long time since they’d seen eachother. Surely everything is alright by now? Nothing is left misunderstood?
Lee carefully summons Samuel before him. He stands unmoving before him as the form comes into shape and the man collects his bearings
Lee had almost forgotten the extent of Samuel’s attractiveness, even with all the injuries he holds.
Oh, how long has it been since he’s seen him? Lee’s lost track. At least half a year by now, maybe a full. However long it may be, it always gave respite to be nearest his love once more. Hopefully that remains unchanged in light of what’s happened.
He wants to just hold him close and never let go. Not a bad idea, really. He said he’d never leave, anyway. Didn’t look great there for a bit, but Lee trusts Samuel to keep his word. Temporary loss, is all this is.
Lee taps his foot against the hardwood gently, letting Sam know where he stood from the vibrations.
Nothing else matters with him here. Not Alex or Douglas or everything with Rapio. He finds respite with Samuel; always has and always will. Temporary loss, is all that was.
He can’t leave him for too long.
- @ask-general-charles-lee
TW on religious guilt and mania
Samuel Seabury wasn't idle in the time that he spent after taking his break. He wanted to improve him, and therefore he tried, everyday, every time he felt "himself" aware, he would try his best to project himself onto the world.
For much time, more so than he can count, he was nothing. He is just nothing. Untill he felt like something.
It took a while for sure, for he realized he didn't have the emotions in correspondence to manifest himself.
Perhaps it's anger, joy, sadness.
But he felt numb most of the time, tired, free. He feels like his soul is in the midst of being tethered and drifting away.
Still, he must ensure that he isn't a liar. He wasn't raised a liar, he wasn't raised to be a sinner.
But he was. He is a sinner.
Of course, that would be the reason for his tremendous terror leading up to Lee's his death.
See, Seabury considers himself a wise man. He knows how to allocate his emotions and to let himself get rid of his own worries for his sanity. But that doesn't mean he lets himself forget. How could he? His... Charlie, he's unhealthy, they're not well together.
Maybe he's known for some time, he's known since long the war started. They shouldn't have been together. He shouldn't have let himself fall for this temptation and letting himself be one for this good man, Charles Lee.
He would've been better without Sam. He shouldn't have been stuck with him, if he had find himself a fine woman and Seabury himself doesn't let himself gravitate to the man, then Sam wouldn't have been a temptation for Lee. Nothing would've happened.
God, his Charlie wouldn't have suffered so much.
He lets himself be wrecked with grief, his sorrow, guilt, and in rare occasions, anger. Hatred flows his body as it fuels himself and one day he managed himself a consciousness.
He found out not long after he could do it more often had he let himself be overwhelmed with emotions. And the more he stayed with beings of living, then the more likely it is he'd appear again in a short period of time.
And so he's a semi regular appearance, somewhere. He knows not where he is, but he's there. Drifting, often times. Animals can see him, or at the very least sense him, because often time around him can he feel their presence or sounds of them approaching, never touching him though.
For a fact, he was relaxing with a deer he had made friend with a deer in what he assumes was a forest
That is until he feels a sensation, much familiar than he'd want it to be. “ah.” he gasped, feeling his body warp and distort to fit reality and not.
He's not where he was. He knows why.
“Lee,” he heaves, his head throbs as if he's still alive. He knew it would come. But he didn't know when, too lenient in letting himself let go, faced with the source of his grief. He can't do this.
