A day of eating, drinking, sleeping, and most importantly
bathing has Only in a better way in no time. Nothing but time can be done for the gaping holes where he has lost so much Time or for the unsightly absence of body mass he has. The ribs that stick out from either side of him could wash and rinse all of his favorite Brunello Cucinelli suit shirts in the creek. Some part of his ego laments not having his material objects; A glass of perfect Nebbiolo red wine, a well-tailored suit (no tie, he was and still is not a tie man), Victorinox knives, cats (he is a cat man) -- fat and happy ones, and maybe, just maybe the fine mechanical engineering of an .18mm Makarov revolver that this particular incarnation cannot have, alas.
He lets the thought go as quickly as it comes and continues slowly, carefully - down to Amare Creek from Delumine as if he knows exactly where he is going and what he is going to do when he gets there. The trip is not far nor too taxing, the terrain is not tough nor rife with bizarre challenges and Only, still trying to make sense out of the last two days, can only hope that he isn't being followed by anyone from the Dawn Court. The last thing he needs is for them to
know anything about him. The last thing he needs to know is that someone suspects him of something.
He'll give them everything they need to know.
Everything.
The suit he'll put on will be a tailored fit - a handsome one - and he will make friends (
possibly), many of them. Everyone in town will know his name, they'll have nice things to say about him and they'll invite him to birthdays, weddings, Christmas parties. They'll wonder why a guy like that keeps to himself but they'll never think - for once - that it might be because he's actually afraid of them. They'll never know why he is afraid either, and perhaps that is the 'game' that Stephan likes to play with others.
What is he afraid of?
Discovery? No.
Not him, of course.
It is never him.
Or maybe it is?
He can't keep track of the lies anymore.
Perhaps Only is afraid of what he
will do to them over the time spent here, there,
everywhere.
His thoughts skip-skip-skip like stones over water, drop down deep into the depths of the black murky catfish-filled lake of his mind.
He worries. Wanders and worries.
Wanders, worries, and waits for something (nothing) that will come (it will never come) to get him.
Two days into Delumine and he is already paranoid that he has done something wrong, something terrible.
Only slides under the guise of night with the grace of a creeping panther. Black-on-black, it is easy to disappear and to stay that way. It is easy - too easy - and he believes he is alone as he follows the creek. What he doesn't know is that Anonymous travels the same path, moving silently, steadily, and with the same careful precision of the stranger who walks his way.
Snakes in the grass.
Wind over water.
Cats watching mice.
You get the idea.
They grow closer and closer together until they completely pass each other and it only takes a second for them to realize that they are not by themselves.
Only stills like Death and waits.
The silence eats at him until he can not stand it.
The black falls back behind an old tree, gathers his wits, and decides to speak.
"I know you are out there." He doesn't know who or what. Maybe it is his paranoia getting the best of him but he chances it. His eyes squint up the clear line of sight he has of a clearing. Is it a monster? A delusion? Or is it -
A spy - Delumine is probably wondering where you are and what you are up to.
Immediately his skin is crawling just thinking about being followed but worse about being perceived.
"Are you from Delumine? Ulric?" He asks the silence as he steps into the pale light unveiled by the clouds. He is deathly-looking with what light the stars shine down on him with, he is inelegant and feral. The creek glitters around his golden feet as he stands in the water, golden hair shimmering loudly in the dark, it is remarkable how well he can cloak himself but it helps to be...
Well,
anonymous.
ooc: Oi vey, still working the rust off. It will be better next round, promise!
.only
thief for hire
low-functioning telekinesis
There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
For many are called but few are chosen.
