Poisoned Spring: Vern's Overblot
Poisoned Gifts
Ooc// Welcome to the official overblot post. This is an open rp!
Silence looms through a once cozy house. Long shadows of sunset claw out the warmth that the halls once held. Vern cautiously looks around the empty rooms. Cliff's family home towers around him. Faint sobs echo thinly from the upstairs.
"Cliff...?" The sprite hesitates. Staring up into the dark, he tries to still his frantic heart. These steps feel longer. Their length and steepness as challenging as climbing a mountain. Still, Vern follows them.
There's a faint light ahead. His stomach knotting as he gets closer to a door left ajar. One he has visited countless times. It was once a haven. A shelter away from the world, where no one would disturb him. Cliff always knew, yet told no one of his hiding place.
Stepping in now, the room is frigid. Cliff is alone here. An unusual sight for the devoted gentleman. Stones sink Vern's stomach. Forcing himself closer, he shivers like a deer being watched.
"Uncle...? Where's Aunt Viv...?"
The question hangs in the air. Sobs keep the words suspended. Any answer from the old human will need a gentle hand. Still, Vern's nerves tremble. Unease is prickling across his skin as if fangs are hovering over his neck.
Reaching for Cliff, Vern's fingertips barely brush the other's arm. Cliff immediantely falls forward. Fear bolts through Vern's veins. Grasping the elderly man, the sprite turns him over.
"Cliff!? H-hang on... I-I... it'll be okay. Please.. just stay... y-you promised..." desperate spells roll from Vern's tongue for nothing. His tears spill freely. Each drop that lands crumbles Cliff to mud.
"W-wait!! NO!" Vern's voice cracks as he scrambles. Desperate hands work to keep the mud and clay together. An unforgiving wind whips around him. The familiar room falling to a looming tree. His mother's. Stones with names etched into them are neatly lined up.
Two new stones burst up from the earth. Vern shields his eyes from the flying dirt. Opening them, his lungs fail for a moment. The names bring him to his knees.
"N-no..."
Pebbles and dirt smack against him. Flinching, he stares at another marker. Then to another, and the next one. Recognizing each name. The gravestones surround him. Long shadows from them grasp at him.
Screaming, Vern bolts upright. The rustle of trees and birdsong slowly fade in over his racing heart. Clawing at his bandages, he rips them slightly. Steady breaths do little to soothe his buzzing nerves.
The last colors of sunset filter around him. Pressing his back against the tree, he mumbles a song to himself. An old lullaby he has used countless times. It contains a memory of his mother. An old, monochromatic watercolor in his mind. Frozen like a painting. The color fading with each passing year.
With his heartbeat mostly contained, he reaches for his phone. He's late. The realization sends a fresh, searing shock bolting through him. He fumbles to open his messages. A new group text from Folia halts his frenzied motions.
"They hospitalized Cliff. It's pneumonia."
Silence veils the forest. Nightshade blooms brilliantly down Vern's hair, continuing around his feet. He rejects the thought. Entertaining it would be accepting the inevitable.
The potions he's brewed should have prevented this. They're crafted to help keep one healthy. For Cliff to suddenly be this ill surely means that the potion is failing. Vern's own magic and skills falling short.
The grass and trees around him are granted a inky sheen. Blot drips from the canopy, the leaves crying out. Once comforting plants warp into vibrant threats. Vern's once soothing magic now blazes darkly. Spreading out past the woods behind the school. Docile flowers around campus shift to nightshade and wolfsbane. Contaminated flora drips blot and toxins, infecting the plants around them. It rapidly engulfs the main campus.
He doesn't notice the shadow looming over him until it tilts his chin up. Blot splatters across his cheeks. There's little strength left in him to resist. Perhaps this time, it will be enough. Inky strands unravel his braid. Thorny vines coil up his limbs and strangle his neck. Vern blinks dark tears from his eyes. He has to give more. However grand his gifts have to be, he'll do it. Then, he won't be alone the next time his eyes open.
Ooc// you're main course is ready and served~ feel free to interact~
Tagging: @night-raven-miscellany @nrcbookclub @diasomnias-flower