Lore Entry #2
The willow tree where they decided to meet was quiet. Oddly so. An eerie atmosphere fills the riverbed, making a once tranquil place feel almost suffocatingly tense. The birds and small critters watched with rapt attention and quiet chatter. It seemed too much and yet too little at the same time. The silence was broken only by the babbling of the river, and the occasional fish leaping out of the water as it traveled upstream.
Phillip made his way towards the tree, his hand outstretched as he scraped his palm on the coarse bark. It provides a slight stinging sensation, but the pain grounds him if only for a moment. He wasn’t here for retribution. He wasn’t ever going to get that. Nor was he here to apologize, or make amends. She didn’t deserve weak and half-assed apologies. But she did deserve a punching bag, and that’s something he could deliver.
It’s not anything unusual to him. He’s used to being the villain of everyone’s story. His father’s, brother’s, His own country, and so on. That’s the curse he was given. The one that travels through his very blood. He’s unable to be anything else but the villain, and over time, everyone will become aware of it.
Phil doesn’t sigh. He watched the river intensely, only coming out of the stupor when he heard her footsteps. They’re unmistakable. They could pick each other's footsteps out of a stampede. Too many late nights and drunken one-night stands between them to not have the sound engraved in their minds. He turns and faces her. Lime green, messy hair with a single black braid. Her typical Autumn clothing. She looks older and angrier. He knows that he’s the reason for that, just like he also knows, he looks like utter shit—deep, heavy-set eyebags, slouched shoulders, and his skin oddly pale.
He watches her and then looks away. This time he takes a deep breath and puts on the asshole persona she needs. She needs to hate him, so he’ll make her… Just like he did last time. “You look good for someone who's supposed to be dead, Ellie.” The words taste like ash on his tongue. He looks away, hoping she won’t see the anger directed at him.
He’s learned something a long time ago something that he’s internalized and kept deep within. Curses, no matter what you believe, aren’t something you can break without willpower. Something he no longer has, at least when it comes to himself at least.
[Closed RP. Do Not Reply unless Invited.] @vedma-s-vostoka