#unhaunted

[betsey-laurens-hamilton]

Pensando muito na Sofia Besatt recentemente. Pensando tb em SofVeriNaldo mas esse assunto fica pra depois.

Eu vi uma teoria esses dias que diz que o nome do Veríssimo é, na verdade, Jaser. E que esse é o motivo que ele nunca esqueceria esse nome, que esse é o nome que eles deram pro "Desassombrado". Não sei a validade dela, mas eu gosto. E escrevi uma one baseada nisso.

aqui vai,

JASER.

— Desassombrado?

Sofia teve que apertar os olhos para expressar (e deixar extremamente claro) que discordava completamente do fato que esta criança não tinha um nome.

— É, é isso que os registros dizem.

— Ok, beleza. Eu não acho que deveríamos chamá-lo assim.

— Sofia... é assim que ele se conhece. O filho não é nosso para renomear.

— Primeiro, "Desassombrado" não é um nome: é desumanização. Segundo, nunca é tarde demais para se reacostumar com um novo hábito ou um nome: e nem adianta discutir comigo sobre isso, eu sou psicóloga. Além disso, a criança matou o próprio pai. Não acho que ele era a melhor referência.

Os olhos de Veríssimo escondem bem as emoções, mas Sofia o conhece a tempo o suficiente para ser enganada. O franzir do cenho, o suspiro leve e o retorcer dos lábios indicam um difícil reconhecimento da verdade nas palavras dela.

— Olha, Veri, — ela o toca o ombro. — Eu sei que você sempre sabe se cuidar e se manter distante na medida do necessário. Mas não se preocupa. Eu me aproximo dele. Eu cuido dele. Tudo bem se eu me machucar depois, eu prefiro ter dado a ele algum amor.

Ele dá um sorriso leve.

— Talvez você seja a mais corajosa de nós.

— E você ainda tinha dúvidas?

Ele ri do tom engraçadinho dela, e então se senta na cadeira firme do quarto. Deveriam adicionar algum alcochoado a ela, considerando quantas horas por dia Veríssimo passa escrevendo.

— Qual vai ser o nome dele?

Um suspiro a escapa os lábios, e os olhos involuntariamente desviam, provavelmente procurando em volta por alguma resposta; ela logo conclui que o quarto de Abraão Strach não é um bom lugar para inspiração.

— Eu não tenho ideia. Eu queria um nome difícil de esquecer, sabe. Independente do que aconteça, do que consigamos fazer aqui, eu queria pelo menos lembrar desse nome. Pra sempre.

— Jaser.

Sofia tem que piscar algumas vezes para processar a rapidez da sugestão.

— Algum motivo específico?

— Eu não vou esquecer.

— Isso não responde minha pergunta.

Ele sorri fraco na direção dela.

— Você é espertinha com um grande coração, Sofia. Eu sou misterioso e fechadão. É o meu charme.

Sofia não consegue segurar a risada.

— Fala sério!

— Estou falando, — ele diz, ainda sorrindo, e faz um carinho leve no ombro dela. — Agora vai dormir, eu tenho trabalho a fazer.

— Você é uma figura, Agente Veríssimo. Boa noite. E não demora a dormir, hein? Eu não quero começar a te drogar sem seu conhecimento.

A porta se fecha atrás dela com um click, e o único barulho que resta para ele, do lado de dentro, é o leve eco dos passos dela, sumindo à medida que se afasta. Do lado de fora, um leve repetir do nome.

— Jaser... Jaser. Jaser. Hm. Boa ideia.

[snicklefrit]

Unhaunted by Dante Novario

Nimrod International Journal, 2022

[prtcts]

@un-haunted liked for a starter

there is no such thing as a simple job. that was something that had been hardwired into her understanding of her profession from the beginning, something she took with her on every assignment - treating each client as if there was something they weren’t telling her. almost always, she was correct. and this job was no different. ‘ i’m just here to clear up a few misunderstandings. ’ he had assured her with the slick grin of a businessman lying, ‘ i doubt we’ll even need you. but my partners insisted. ’ he’d gone on to talk about what they always talked about; he hadn’t expected someone like her, he really didn’t need outside help he already had a security team, i’m not a bad guy really. which told her everything she needed to know about her client right at the beginning; he’d crossed someone worse.

she was proven right almost immediately. an ambush, too well planned to be anything other than targeted, fended off by hanako just her. one of his own men had been there too, had managed to take down one man in the time she took down the other three. but she is suffering for it now, standing just behind him, just to the side, waiting for the meeting to begin. her ribs had been bruised badly, and she’s concentrating on the ache of them every time she breathes, testing whether any are broken. the fight the night before has shaken her client, and he glances at her three times before the door opens, and her eyes snap to the group now entering. one’s limping slightly, and she meets his eyes, challengingly. one last night’s assailants returned, and not quite as adept at dealing with pain as her, it seems. her sharp eyes glide over the rest, and that’s then the world seems to fall away. she had never expected to see him in this room. not in her wildest dreams. her jaw clenches in time with the fists at her sides. hard enough to leave welts in her palm as his eyes meet hers.

the meeting goes about as well as she would have expected from people like these, no one yells, no one moves too quickly… her hands don’t need to reach for her client, don’t need to do anything but quiver in confused anger as they’re clenched behind her back. though she doesn’t concentrate on what they discuss, it’s not her job, she’s supposed to make sure no more threats are made, but even that is difficult when his presence is suffocating her. so when it’s over, she’s already figuring out what to do, before they even leave the building. ‘ take him to location two. ’ she informs his barely competent personal security guard. ‘ not the hotel. ’ they don’t argue with her, for once, and she’s left to take out her phone, and consider dialling the number she and help but pray he hadn’t changed since the last time they spoke. she doesn’t get the chance, her screen flickers to life, and the number might be unregistered, but she knows exactly who it is. knows exactly what he wants. so she answers, she doesn’t speak because she doesn’t have to; but she goes to meet him anyway.

“ what are you doing here? ” the question comes out the moment she’s certain he’s alone, that he wasn’t about to ambush her as well. she’s on him, instantly, close enough to see each individual lash as she stares accusingly into his eyes, fist clenching in his shirt. she’s furious. she’s mortified. she wants to break his nose, she wants to scream, and yell, and make a scene. but she doesn’t. she can’t. she swallows the bulk of the fury, only to find hurt in its place. he could get her killed, just like that. just by being there, by being involved at all. “ you can’t be here, are you kidding me? ” fingers loosen slightly in their grip on his front, and she almost convinces herself to let go; but he had been on the wrong side of that room. “ tell me now if i have to be worried about this, you owe me something. ”

[howifeltabouthim]

I am the being within you, outside time and unhaunted.

Alice Notley, from Certain Magical Acts

[ranaraeuchle]

Unhaunted. A new comic by me.

Pages 1-5

[ranaraeuchle]

Unhaunted 

Previous pages here.

[ranaraeuchle]

Unhaunted page 7

[finalbelle]

@un-haunted​ liked for a starter !!

        ophelia liked to think of her as a smart girl, but even she was having trouble keeping up with what was being explained to her. even with any sort of context provided, her mind was coming up blank. she’s not afraid to admit it. ❝ i’m not even gonna pretend i understand what you’re talkin' about. ❞