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祝日 / Permanent Vacation

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@exdiritas-blog
Our torments also may in length of time become our elements.
Milton, paradise lost bk ii,1. 274. (via ignatiius)
[ is he being poked— ]
[ he opens his eyes, the light blinding and painful; dean tries to speak, but his throat hurts. his body hurts. his very bones ache and he had no idea where he is or what’s happened and he’s being poked with a fucking stick. ]
❝S—top….❞
{ Still alive. Tenacious; from the looks of him. }
❝ We have to wonder if he won't die soon though— ❞ { --said to themselves-- not him. }
I saw that you poked Dean with a stick, (scarred--sword). I instantly thought you were perfect, and followed you. :D Happy New Years!
an anon for me say what— gosh, thank you, darling! i’m so glad you like these weirdos— i’ve had them for a decade, and they’re my babies. enjoy your stay, and happy new years!
[ he’s so— thirsty. and tired. and everything hurts. why— where is he? what’s happening? ]
{ --do they poke him? --slash his throat no... they'll poke him. with a stick. }
❝ do you have a -- light? ❞ oh, run away, run away-- horus has come out to play--
{ a sigh of relief and a smile of her own is brandished. }
How often? I ask because perhaps not as often as me, or just as often, or—-or maybe slightly more? Then I could weigh in on the not-so normal, not quite normal, and not normal at all scale.
—Er, I’m…I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer any of those questions, given only a handful of them made sense!
{ --how o f t e n ? that takes them a moment-- though it's only Vincent who actually considers the question; there's temptation to respond acerbically-- all Horus, that. }
Sometimes, I think. --I haven't counted. Maybe-- a lot?
{ Because Vincent has to consider; he is over two-hundred... and Horus is much, much older. Do they combine such occurrences, or just focus on Vincent? }
❝ you feel— dark. ❞ dark dark dark; on guard, little child.
We are children of the great { e m p i r e }
. headcanon
In the far-flung future, or in the near future if their situation gains speed-- Horus could be considered the destructive, glorified, overwhelming nature of Calamity, and Vincent; complacency in the face of such, the quiet tears and the bruised bodies and, perhaps, the aftermath, wherein there can only be acceptance.
”I cannot tell if you are mocking me, or, if you mean what you say. Uncertainty makes me nervous.”
”Why do your eyes glow so unnaturally?” It seemed as though immortality did not grant the fallen much tact.
❝ Oh, oh, not mocking-- ❞
Well, Horus is. Details.
❝ Can I content you with-- it was an accident? ❞
. headcanon
Horus and Vincent are something not quite human, anymore. With the merging of their souls, they are well on their way to becoming something else entirely. What that is, neither of them know-- but with each year that passes, Horus regains a bit more of his old power over fire, and Vincent becomes just a little more cognizant of spirits and non-human entities in an ever-expanding radius around the two of them.
And with destruction that seems to follow in their wake; either by Horus' habit of getting them in trouble, or Vincent's strange tendency to exacerbate issues, one might wager what they are becoming is something rarely seen but so very pervasive--
a trait; an embodiment-- of calamity.
—- Goodness, I’ve gone and misplaced myself again.
{ this would happen less often if a certain someone’s nose wasn’t, almost religiously, committed to being in a book. sometimes literally and that’s. that’s just sad. }
{ A shimmer of blue in nearly gray eyes; ephemeral. Considering gaze is levied upon her, before it melts away into warm smile-- paired with gentle laugh. }
-- That's alright. We do the same, quite often.