Can I ask for the wraith day already? Don't want to give you such a short notice. If I can't, just ignore it. So philip and his s/o were in a trial together, and he had to hooked them. What would he do when encountering her outside after the trial?
You knew he was there. His breath came out in foggy wisps and the space in which he resided shimmered lightly every time he shifted. You weren't sure you were ready to face him yet; the memories of him carelessly throwing you onto that hook were still etched so clearly in your mind and though you hated to admit it, you were scared of him.
Hunching in on yourself, you tried to pretend he wasn't watching you.
But he was. For the last ten minutes, he had been leering over you. It was getting increasingly more difficult to ignore. You wondered if he knew that his cover had been blown. If he wasn't even going to reveal himself, why should you acknowledge him?
You dug your face into your drawn-up knees, unable to focus with his shimmering in your peripherals. It was at that point that you heard a lone bell toll above you; a soft little ringing to signify his uncloaking. You didn't look.
A chilled hand carefully pressed into the top of your head and you stilled. The sounds of shifting reached your ears and you dared to look up; the man was crouching in front of you, the glow of his eyes focused intently on yours.
"What?" You grumbled, too tired and upset to really deal with him.
His rough fingers slid down your face, gently taking your cheek in his palm. A gasp of wind rattled out of him that sounded suspiciously like an apology, but you couldn't quite get over it just yet. You needed more.
Philip leaned forward and you felt him press his face against your cheek. He didn't have the perfect lips to kiss you with, but you'd grown to love the rough, odd feeling that so gently pressed against your skin. You felt guilty for being mad at him. Of course he hooked you; he had to. This was his curse. Just like being hooked was yours. Two fates cruelly intertwined in the worst possible way.
It still hurt that he'd so discarded you that time. That he'd offered you up to The Entity without apology. Without even looking back at you. But... At the same time, you knew that it was his way of coping. He was apologizing now, and you suppose that's what mattered.
He tried to speak again, and you heard the strain of his throat in a choked apology. It sounded like a gush of muffled air, but you knew he was trying. You knew he hated that he couldn't speak to you as he wished. You knew he despised what The Entity had done to him.
You sighed and sunk into him, pressing your forehead to his. Those glowing, pale eyes stared into yours with a look you could only describe as hopeful. He was silently asking if you'd forgiven him. You hadn't; not entirely, but you could work through this. He'd acknowledged that you were upset. He was trying, and the least you could do was meet him halfway. You did love him, after all, regardless of the blood on his hands. "I'm okay," you finally told him.
His shoulders sunk in on themselves with relief.
