[It's like a sharp stab of reality. Seth's voice saying his name, the grip on his arm. His mind lurches into the moment like being dragged out of a dream. He blinks, looking at his brother, the hand raised towards his face. Blinks again and his eyes fade blue, mouth closing.
The moment's too familiar. It's Seth in the desert, telling him to drop the dog he didn't remember picking up. Seth in the motel room, staring at the tableau he'd made of the bank teller's body (Monica. Her name was Monica). He can't see Seth's face, but for a second he still searches for it in the fabric of the veils he's wearing, needing to know. Needing connection. Fully expecting rejection.
But he can't see either. And they don't have time. He looks to the servant again. Eyes still clouded, weak on their feet, still alive. A quick hand into the folds of his robes and he has the pin in his grip, reaching to jab it into their neck. Holding their weight as they drop slack.
He checks the wound before he pulls their sleeve back into place. Two dark punctures, clean. There's the idea of asking Seth how long the bite from Kisa had taken to heal, but frustration holds it blocked. Curling tight and dark in his throat. Standing, pulling his head wrapping into place, turning to push out of the closet, all heavy, sharp motions.]
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The moment's too familiar. It's Seth in the desert, telling him to drop the dog he didn't remember picking up. Seth in the motel room, staring at the tableau he'd made of the bank teller's body (Monica. Her name was Monica). He can't see Seth's face, but for a second he still searches for it in the fabric of the veils he's wearing, needing to know. Needing connection. Fully expecting rejection.
But he can't see either. And they don't have time. He looks to the servant again. Eyes still clouded, weak on their feet, still alive. A quick hand into the folds of his robes and he has the pin in his grip, reaching to jab it into their neck. Holding their weight as they drop slack.
He checks the wound before he pulls their sleeve back into place. Two dark punctures, clean. There's the idea of asking Seth how long the bite from Kisa had taken to heal, but frustration holds it blocked. Curling tight and dark in his throat. Standing, pulling his head wrapping into place, turning to push out of the closet, all heavy, sharp motions.]