“Oh. Yes, of course.” Forrest nodded, moving as instructed to sit, his back straight on his perch. Faust’s touch surprised him, even seeing it coming, but he loosened himself into it, let the sculptor shift him one way and the other. His hand comes up at the mention of the scar, tracing his finger across his cheek lightly- a remnant of childhood silliness gone sour, nearly invisible the way it set into his smile line. The memory was as faded as the cut now. For Faust to have caught it, he must be quite the artist. He dropped his hand, staying silent as Faust spoke, catching the words and the pain that seemed to float with them, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Ah.” He said softly, eyes flicking across Faust’s features, realizing quickly that he was a stand-in model, a replacement for someone long-lost, if Faust’s words were true- and he’d lived in this town long enough, and worked with liars often enough, to know that he wasn’t being lied to. Forrest wasn’t being sculpted, he was a living photograph of someone unavailable. He offered a small smile, “You must have loved him. To remember him so intimately, I mean. He must have meant a lot to you.”
“yes,” the sculptor agreed shortly before turning around. love. just as with the days of the past, he couldn’t be bothered to think of such an overwhelming thing whilst focusing on his art. his replicas of henry remained his only ones unfinished & just like henry, this fact got beneath his skin. each step closer that he took towards his unfinished creation breathed life into his undead body. somehow the stars came into alignment with the three of them there - faust, henry’s blood, and the art. “i am two-hundred and eighty years old,” he spoke, looking down at the bust of his dearly departed friend and not into forrest’s eyes, his hands getting to work. “and yet i still remember how he smelled. i remember what use to cause those lines in his forehead - much more fainter than your own - to line up with uncertainty. i saw his eyes light up at the offer of employment, as he too once modeled for me. your ancestor. now before me sits a lawyer. a polite, controlled professional. i am unsure if this would have made my friend swell with pride or be wholeheartedly bewildered.” a small laugh appears and disappears as soon as it shines though, quickly buried with the seriousness of focus.
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