The Return of Vestigere
February, 2007
The name means almost nothing to her, but his face, his smell... it recalls memories she thought lost forever. She quakes and quivers inside like a rabbit, her heart beating so hard she's afraid it will pound out through her chest.
They talk, and he shows her the scar that she made, and suddenly, he isn't as frightening. He is lost, perhaps more profoundly than she is, and perhaps more than even he realizes. She looks at him again, and knows. He is young, he is scared.
He still scares the hell out of her.
Her tongue flicks out, tastes the air around him. He tastes of sickness, of death, of fear- his and everyone else's. She welcomes him, warns him. Tells him to leave soon, but not before he needs to.
She tells him to sit with her in the garden the next evening, to have tea, and she doubts her sanity.
The name means almost nothing to her, but his face, his smell... it recalls memories she thought lost forever. She quakes and quivers inside like a rabbit, her heart beating so hard she's afraid it will pound out through her chest.
They talk, and he shows her the scar that she made, and suddenly, he isn't as frightening. He is lost, perhaps more profoundly than she is, and perhaps more than even he realizes. She looks at him again, and knows. He is young, he is scared.
He still scares the hell out of her.
Her tongue flicks out, tastes the air around him. He tastes of sickness, of death, of fear- his and everyone else's. She welcomes him, warns him. Tells him to leave soon, but not before he needs to.
She tells him to sit with her in the garden the next evening, to have tea, and she doubts her sanity.