Necrophilia Variations -- with Drag

[TeaPlease]

Eyes shut again- voice light, but amused. "You're always curious." The man turned onto his back and stared at the mites again. He felt like they'd float into his eyes should he ever open them. Like a protective covering- a hazy shield. "I think I'm beginning to like it," he followed up, moreso to himself than to Origo. "Your assumptions.. are correct, yes. I like it. When they're dead. They're..." Words failed. What did draw him to it? The dry skin, the blue tint and bloated forms? The maggots which wriggled and the dirt that clung?

 

Maybe it was because it was familiar. A lot of people, he thought, liked the things they were familiar with. Such qualities. But the opposite was true, as well.

 

What word?

 

He pondered. "..better."

 

Origo was a strange man. The Gravekeeper's feelings towards him were already bordering on friendship- or at least, a begrudging companionship. This man wasn't going to leave anytime soon, and even if he did, they shared a bond the young male had never experienced before. He wasn't sure he liked it completely. He wasn't sure he liked Origo completely. But he knew he enjoyed his company enough to tolerate these tiring questions.

 

After the words, the Keeper didn't respond. He turned, in one motion, back onto his side to face Origo and let his hand peek out of the sheets to beckon him closer. "I need you to tell me a story. Long or short. And make it good." He let one eye open to observe the man. "I'll go to sleep, then. After or during the story."

 

Closed. Yawning- he turned, grumbling. "And make it good."

[Drag]

“A…bedtime story, hmm?” Origo asked in an amused tone as he filed the information Gravekeeper had given into the drawers of his mind. From his position at the door he stared at the male’s callused, pale hand, which had slipped out from the bed linens moments ago and, to his surprise, beckoned him closer.

So brave. So innocent and trusting. So…peculiar.

 

Amusement faded, giving way to other emotions and sensations when Origo realized it was the hand that belonged to the wrist where he’d set his mark. He cleared his throat and ran his hands over his face. “Human, I have too many stories to tell and they all swim around in my skull like a thousand flustered koi stuck in a drying pool. However, I will try to humor your request.”

And help myself to a bit more of that unique life force of yours. Complicated and old, yet young and fresh, Gravekeeper’s soul reminded Origo of vintage casks of sauvignon infused with splashes of grape juice squeezed straight from the vine.

 

Pushing himself away from the door and standing, Origo crossed the small room, moving closer to the other male, who had flopped over on his side. In the semi-darkness he watched shadows cast by the dancing candlelight illuminate the human’s features. He didn’t seem to be in as much pain as he’d been before and the wrinkles of concern between his brows had smoothed. These were all good things.

 

Turning, Origo slowly lowered himself to the ground, sat with his back against the foot of Gravekeeper’s bed, and began telling him a rambling story combining countless histories - both imagined, through stories he himself had heard, and actual experience. He stopped talking when the human’s breathing moved to a low, slow state, indicating sleep. The rhythm was soothing and for the first time in an eternity, against all probability, Origo also slept.

[TeaPlease]

Irritation was low, even when he detected the subtle amusement and- most likely perceived- mockery from Origo. Saying nothing, he waited before finally moving to look at the other man again. If the man was going to dally like this, he'd just imply a, perhaps.. quick flick of the wrist to throw a book or candle stick. It would work. Origo didn't have cat-like reflexes. Not that the Gravekeeper knew of, at least. "If you are going to humor it, then do it now. You're waffling," he spoke dryly with his own faint amusement.

 

Again, his eyes closed and he waited patiently. Origo wouldn't deny his request, of course. He'd get hurt, and he wanted him to rest, anyhow.

 

The Gravekeeper listened. He heard the man's shifting before he finally got up, feet against stone and coming his way. Time to get a tad more comfortable. Waiting in the resulting silence, Origo's voice came and somehow- in the middle of it- the Gravekeeper felt himself smiling, felt his mind being lulled before it all faded..

 

--

 

It was night when he woke. The usual greeting. The Gravekeeper didn't open his eyes, only shifting in bed and slowly pushing himself up. Joints popped back into place. He let the Charlie wear off from his foot before testing and getting up. The spirits were out. He heard them talk. But it wasn't as much as before, and he remembered why. He always knew. The creatures..

 

Did they remain?

 

Making sure to avoid the figure on his floor, without checking, even, he cracked the door open to his "home" and emerged quietly. Silently. Just like his usual self. The shadows embraced him again, the grass against his feet pleasant and the night air a calming breeze with the scent of rain lingering on the wind. The Gravekeeper looked on at the spirits drifting idly and speaking amongst each other.

 

Normality was gone. It was all different now. A crack in the mirror by the reflection still showed the break, even with glue and tape and replacements.

[Drag]

And so he awakens. What next, Gravekeeper? That is my perpetual question to you. What more will I learn about you and about your world here among the dead?

Feigning sleep, Origo kept his breathing slow, even and deep, as the human moved in his bed and then finally arose with a new evening of crickets once again playing their bows and moths dancing about the dim lantern flame.

 

After the brief catnap he’d been lulled into from glutting himself on Gravekeeper’s residual energy, Origo had remained awake for hours simply listening to the man murmur in his sleep and watching his expressions change. There was something he’d always liked about observing a man or woman sleeping and dreaming.

 

Dreams. That infinite universe resting between reality and fantasy - Heaven and Hell - where all men are equal; where a poor fool might be worshiped like he’s a god and a king may become a servant. The sole arena where love lasts forever and subconscious wishes and truths are spilled from uncensored lips.

 

Or where he who burns in the magnificent sunlight walks along the beach, skipping rocks into the tumbling waves with me at full noontime, Origo thought to himself. I will truly miss the sun while you belong to me, human. However, the cool beauty of the moon will do as long as that cool beauty allows me to fill my glass each night and drink your complicated soul.

Cracking one eye open, Origo sensed the Keeper was communicating with the spirits, who lingered about him in the moist evening air. Unable to remain still any longer, he arose, stretched and silently moved behind the human. “Are you hungry?” He asked quietly.

[TeaPlease]

The mind was a wonderful thing. He felt it before anything else. The stirring of thoughts as they grew evermore, little strings being pulled in the air only the Gravekeeper could sense. Aware of Origo's approach, the young man remained still and continued to turn his gaze ahead. "Yes," he answered after a brief pause to contemplate. It was that and only that. The sad truth of the matter was that his palette was understandably limited. Without the exposure to oils, various meats, intense grillings, sauces, spices and a plethora of other ingredients common now, the Gravekeeper had grown on the occasional fruit or vegetable thriving nearby.

 

But those were the days when he used to go out. When he was partially accepted as a hermit of a child. Years ago. So many years..

 

Time hung like a single lightbulb from a cord. Swaying only slightly but never anything drastic. Somethings he could tug and notice the blinking before the light came on to show the true age of everything. But as quick as it had flickered in response, the light dimmed and darkness it was again.

 

Isolation was hard to understand when he had his spirits with him. Now the fear came. They blinked occasionally. His friends and family and neighbors. Their forms shifted, on and off, only for a second but still a short in the system. The Gravekeeper's mind strayed from food.

 

What would he be without his graves? His people? The dirt and cold? He was a shadow content in the room never opened or explored. Yet they had always said there'd come a day where things would change. Where goodbyes would have to be exchanged, tender farewells. The mere thought made his throat clench in such an uncomfortable way, eyes stinging like he was gazing upon narrowed rays of the sun. Without them, his people, he was nothing. He wouldn't survive. He wouldn't know what to do, how to forage, how to kill, how to hunt.

 

And now this... The creatures, roaming like wild. The flickering again. The speaking- and Origo. Could it all mean something? Marking the end?

 

The Gravekeeper scowled at his own thought processes. How idiotic. Paradise, they said, was eternal. He'd read it always and heard it more. Paradise had a carefree way about it. Food provided, shelter handled, nothing ever wanted for. This was his paradise. This was eternal. And nothing would ever change it. Not even a man like Origo or his followers.

 

Finally turning to look at the other, the lapse of silence greeting him in almost relief, he leaned against the doorway of his home. "I don't know what you eat. Do you hunt for game?" he asked.

[Drag]

“I was locked away, hidden in the depths below your necropolis - unknown even to you all this time until you stumbled on my tomb. Do you think I drove a spear into rabbits or tracked down a buck for his venison while in that place of forgetting?” Origo laughed and shook his head, but soon the humor melted away and he grew serious. “What do you imagine I eat, human?”

 

I am a half-complete soul left to wander the Earth. What will you say…what will you do if I ever truly tell you what sustains me? Will you look at me like I’m a leech? A monster? Will you too burn me alive?

Deciding now might not be the best time for answers to certain questions, even though asking about meals was a mundane inquiry for most, Origo stepped past Gravekeeper and moved further into the rain kissed night. “But morning, or rather evening, is here again. A new night holding a new moon, and you are hungry. That’s what matters now.” As he spoke, Origo undid, then refastened his hair again in its tie. “Although you seemed to have dreamed of good things last night, I doubt it involved a proper supper.”

 

Looking back at the male, he tried for a casual smile, hoping the subject of what he ate would fall by the wayside. “And what of bathing? I assume you won’t let me steal you away and toss you in the nearby sea. Actually…that is a tempting thought as I find myself getting tired of this place.”

 

That should be the icing on the cake for distracting the man.

[TeaPlease]

The Gravekeeper did what he was known to do, and that was think. Ponder. The man brought up a good point after all. What would people locked up in coffins and tombs eat? How were they locked up to begin with? Perhaps it was just Origo's singular specialness, as the others seemed to have no qualms with meat or flesh. Ravenous desires maybe? Or did human limbs consist of their own special diets? Looking off and past the image of Origo, he reflected on the events that lie in the past. What did they eat?

 

Sustenance must've been an issue. Lying alone for so long.. Words were fading in the distance as the clicking of cogs, churning, cycling on and on.

 

"The river is far off," he answered after a brief beat. "Do you live off energy?" It would make sense. Closed up for so long, and needing him, particularly, to get the energy and wake.. Or maybe just the vibrant auras of the hot-blooded ones. The more he thought on it, the more he thought it would piece together and form a pretty good theory. A cold tomb.. locked up and away, away from one another, spread out like the beginning of a dotted pattern. The Keeper turned his eyes back up to Origo with a raised eyebrow.

 

It reminded him of a book he read. With vampires that, instead of feeding on blood or anything, sucked the complete energy out of a person and ate it up. Made sense.

[Drag]

Damn. “I…care not about a river. The sea is close, is it not? I swear I can feel it.”

 

Seconds of silence passed by and it seemed even the crickets had hung their bows in wait of a reply.

Origo knew there was no point in trying to lie to the clever male before him, especially when he was looking him straight in the eye. He turned to fully face Gravekeeper. “I will keep this simple. Yes, in a way energy is how I sustain myself. Buried so long, weaving in and out of dreams and memories, I borrowed from those around me. Earthworms and moles. Mice, rats and other baser creatures.”

 

As he spoke, Origo’s wrist bearing the eternity mark brushed against his robes. For some reason it felt more sensitive than it had before. He clenched his jaw at the sensation as heat ran up the veins in his arms like a shot of opium and fire. Cannot tell him yet. He is still too green to accept that Fate brought a leech to his doorstep to suck his life force dry. Origo shook his head. No! I have more control than to even think of that!

“So, what of your needs? I saw nothing edible in your home and you are thin as a reed. What food is to your liking?" To lighten the mood, Origo scratched his chin, slowly looked Gravekeeper up and down and added, "Or are you truly a nosferatu who drinks blood for a living when he's not running from the sunlight, burying murder victims or using shovels to deafen poor gentlemen such as myself?" He rubbed his neck and feigned a look of worry as he stepped back. "Should I be weary of you and the sharp fangs hiding just inside the pale pink of your gumline?"

[TeaPlease]

There was no response. The ice was returning. Stop the waffling and give me answers, or we're both going to be standing around wasting time. He didn't see the need for secrets. Secrets only made corpses heavier and their spirits harder to connect to in the end. He watched Origo squirm and twiddle his mental thumbs. Somewhere, deep inside, the Gravekeeper enjoyed the affect he had when he wanted to provoke one. Waiting. Watching.

 

Staring.

 

Answers came. The Gravekeeper's theory was supported and he nodded his head in Origo's direction. See how simple that was? Ideas to support claims. Data to go with the hypothesis. Nodding his head again, more to himself the young man murmured something of thanks at finally getting what he wanted. Distracted by a surging sensation the Keeper looked down to his wrist with a slight twitch and shook it. He'd almost forgotten of the new marking. Now the temptation to hit Origo surfaced again. At least the sensations allowed a brief window of thought. He missed a good amount of the others useless babble.

 

Walking again, he popped the man over the head (forget height, focus on swiftness- the ridiculousness of the hit won't be noticed) and began to go towards the part of the graves where it mixed with nature, trees standing tall and hanging over homes. "Let's go."

 

Foraging time. The Gravekeeper could only hope he would be able to have something decent. Like.. broad-leaves.

[Drag]

“How many times do you think I will let you get away with things like that, human?” Origo hissed as he smoothed back his disheveled hair. “I assure you my self control is something you should not take for granted.”

 

He took a few hesitant steps forward, trying to remain calm through the unexpected howl that pealed through his brain with Gravekeeper’s boldness. It wasn’t anger he felt, but something even less reasonable and more primal. And he liked it. He liked anything that made him feel more alive.

 

Already anticipating a dry response, or outright silence, Origo quickened his pace, stepping up behind Gravekeeper. He set a heavy hand on the male’s shoulder, stopping him from moving further away. “Look at me.” His fingertips crackled with cool blue fire as he turned the Gravekeeper to face him. Origo knew his eyes held a matching azure flame, because it was reflected in the onyx pools in the centers of Gravekeeper’s widened orbs.

 

“Look very carefully. Do I seem at all like one of the wandering spirits who floats around you, follows you and murmurs secrets in your ear when the evening comes?”

 

Origo moved forward until Gravekeeper’s spine pressed into the wrought iron fence they were passing. After studying the male and listening to his rabbit fast heart pounding out a flight-or-flight staccato behind his ribcage, he felt the volatile storm which had gripped him moments ago begin to ebb, more or less. However he wasn’t done yet - he needed more reaction and found himself almost craving it from the other male. “Then again perhaps your existence here in this dull stasis of death and marble angels has finally brought you to a point where you are bored enough that you wish to raise a little Hell.”

 

Feeling the mark on his wrist begin to pulse in a familiar sequence, calling to him, Origo looked down and saw Gravekeeper’s doing the same.

 

“It’s time.”

 

Grabbing Gravekeeper’s arm, he brought the wrist that held his mark up to his mouth and sank his teeth into the tender, pale flesh.

 

 

---------

 

(Tea, you're an angel for rping with a sloth)

[TeaPlease]

The feelings were shared on both ends. Origo's sloth ways were beginning to cause a thorn to lodge right in the shallow dip in his side. Punctuality was treasured and time- though forgotten in such a land- was still important to the Gravekeeper. However the man made no word or comment this time. Maybe the self-control that waned from the other waxed on with him. It was easier to hold back the scratchy words that rubbed his throat uncomfortably. Maybe Origo did have some nice qualities about him. Medicinally.

 

The weight on his shoulder wouldn't have stopped him. The young man allowed it, with a brief sigh. The Keeper was entertaining just waiting, back to Origo, or continuing to walk- but it seemed the decision was made for him. A quizzical brow was arched just so. Lips ready to let the cyanide slip. But he stopped. Without consent, his eyes had betrayed him. What in the hell?

 

Origo was not scary. His intimidations were childish, if not foolish. He would not hurt him. He could not hurt him. The Gravekeeper would not allow himself to come under the hand of someone, anyone, particularly Origo. Then why was his body responding this way?

 

The cold had ebbed, frost tinging his veins as he felt his throat clench. His heart beat faster. Heat was spreading uncomfortably and he knew this graveyard with every sense of his being. Knew the ways which even Origo couldn't fathom and would become lost in, knew the trails. Knew the homes that would protect him. How he- himself- could get out of this situation.

 

The moment continued for several beats. Each one brought on a deeper twist in his gut. Preparing himself to launch an attack, the Keeper was startled out of concentration.

 

Now what was this foolish thing babbling about now?

 

"Could you let--"

 

Ow.

Ow...

 

Pain surged into his being, nothing compared to- and mostly kick-started by- panic. His tolerance for bruising and biting was higher than most. But this was different. The Gravekeeper's voice hardly rose but this was a special instance. The Gravekeeper didn't seem the sort to fight but this was- again- a special instance.

 

A hellcat was unleashed. His freehand pounced, lashing out in a series of clawing and punching as he thrashed and tried to tug away from the feeding mouth. "Let me GO!" he demanded, voice harsh and guttural, choked by his own anxiety. "GO!!"

[Drag]

Your frantic pulse fluttering under my lips. Warm body and the scent of skin. Life…beautiful life. This gift I give you is worth the temporary pain of my bite and the lightning of your fury, Gravekeeper.

After clenching the male’s struggling body tightly to his own for a few more solid seconds, Origo unlocked his jaw from the mauling and pushed away from Gravekeeper. Quickly turning his body into a defensive stance, because ‘fight’ was most likely all the human had in his now adrenalin-clogged mind, Origo raised his arm, which held his own infinity marking. He splayed open his fingers, allowing Gravekeeper to see the electric blue show spilling from his hand. With his other hand he rubbed the welt forming in his jaw, where the male’s fist had landed hard.

 

“Now you have a good reason to hit me. Or worship me. I’ll let you decide which one for yourself after you learn what I’ve just given to you.” He turned his head and spat out the small amount of saliva and blood that had leaked onto his tongue, then wiped his mouth and chin of the coppery crimson smeared there. “If I were you I’d worship me.”

 

Origo grinned, his teeth stained pink with the blood that continued to pour from his own bitten tongue. He’d needed to mix some of his own life serum with that of Gravekeeper twenty four hours after the initial marking for the indelible seal to be complete. A faint blue glow was already beginning to radiate from the wound on the human’s wrist. Origo watched it slowly paint its way down Gravekeeper’s fingers, one by one like azure fireflies crawling down the digits.

[TeaPlease]

He pulled the offending limb close, fist balled up to his chest and still tensed. But his mind was already focusing and isolating things. The stance, the satisfied expression. The faint throbbing of his own wrist and the tingle at his fingertips, scrapping of his knuckles, when he'd attacked Origo. The sequence was replaying like a broken film, shuddering at the end and then restarting in shaky vision. The feelings were focused on as his mind's eye managed to right itself again. Yes.

 

Anger was a definite. The Gravekeeper was incredulous, agitated. Betrayed. Confused and shocked. Self-reprimanding ('You should've known it would happen, you shouldn't have ever gotten yourself so close') and a small calm.

 

Everything turned icy.

 

The young man couldn't hear a word or two as reality snapped back into clarity. He stared and waited for the mouth, pink- pinker, rather- and grinning, to cease. His wound throbbed like the ball of emotions did, sealed up and tossed into one of the deep crevices of his being. They would be found another time. Released another day. But for now winter had come to the Keeper and it was bitter indeed. Brittle, too. There was a moment of silence. It was cleanly cut by the slap the resonated throughout the place, the Keeper's barehand whipping out fast and hard before fisting in Origo's collar and yanked him down to eye level.

 

Origo would die in this winter. No one would survive.

 

"You do something that to me again, without any warning, without any explanation and I swear, I will end whatever life you live right here and right now." A well-aimed kick to the shin, and the Keeper let the man fall on one knee and stared down. "I worship no one and don't think yourself someone who deserves it."

 

He would have said more, but the Gravekeeper did not feel that- at this time- Origo was worth more than that scratchy sentence. He was not worth a kick to the groin either.

 

Religious people came here often, when he was but a child. Kneeling on one knee or both in front of stones or the like. Praying. Worshiping. Malicious intent scarred the memories but he refrained from making both of his knees go out. Turning, rubbing his wrist gently, the Keeper resumed his quest for food. Bay leaf would be somewhere around here. Maybe a few nuts if he could find the right tree. A few flowers with the right bush.

[Drag]

“End. My. Life,” Origo murmured to himself as he crouched, his knee digging into stones and earth. “True death it not something I am allowed to have.”

 

The explosive burn of Gravekeeper’s slap throbbed across his cheek as his mind raced over the many times he’d tried to end his own existence before he came to understand that suicide was merely a dream within a dream. The cliffs he’d fallen from, fires he’d been engulfed in. The knives and swords and bullets he’d driven into his own skull…

 

“But if I knew without a shadow of a doubt you could give me that one thing - ridding me of this perpetual existence as a half-complete soul - then I would surely worship you until you ended all my days, Keeper of the Graves.”

 

Origo understood everything from the inferno of anger and the jagged storm of ice the other male felt to the putrid miasma of betrayal. He’d lived it– been crucified by it enough times that none of it was new, but it somehow always seemed fresh. Shaking himself back to the present, Origo did what he had planned to do. He set his forehead in the palm of his hand and and sent some of his own energy through the connection he’d formed with the human. Heal and be sated.

There was no need to see what was happening. Origo knew. The human’s torn skin at his wrist was already reaching for itself to begin healing. Soon all that would remain would be the mark, which was there to stay. Starving cells were taking in sustenance far better than anything simple foods could offer. He gave enough so that Gravekeeper would not have to eat for several days.

 

“My gift….”

 

Strength, resonating from fingertips to toes. Blue fire infusing with muscles and sinew and tendons. The human's body seemed to be taking it all well, so Origo gave him more. For your own safety and protection from those who will hunt for you.

 

“…for…you.”

 

Origo saw stars swimming behind his closed eyes, then nothing more as unconsciousness blanketed him in darkness.

[TeaPlease]

The Gravekeeper continued walking until he was out of distance. And then, no more than two minutes passed before he ran back, feet hitting bare ground and crouched down back next to Origo and give the unconscious form a tight hug. He tried to gather what he could of the man but he was heavier, taller, limbs jutting out oddly and causing the younger to buckle more than once. But he pressed on towards the nature. Deeper and deeper. He usually didn't go past the initial flora and bush but he had some knowledge that there was a small collection of water further down. Not a river or stream so much as a big puddle.

 

His anger hadn't ebbed. His bitterness was still very present. But he was not going to be in Origo's debt. An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand. Constant limbs exchanged in the forms of doing. It would go on until they were out of things to give.

 

Or until the Gravekeeper had finally managed to make Origo cease with the stupidity.

 

Panting at a small stop, the Keeper looked forward and let his toes dig into the dirt. Certainly not moist but they were heading in the right direction. More or less dragging the man now, alternating between hunched and carrying him and letting his feet drag, the Gravekeeper paused twice more. He was not used to having things given to him. Tangible things. Knowledge was given to him, as well as small affections. The right to the graves. His title.

 

Origo's constant exchanges tired him.

 

The replays. He slapped the man, made him get down- down on the ground- and yet he was still gifted with something that would go towards his well-being. It infuriated him how someone could be so blandly direct in choice and decision. The puddles came up. Propping the older man up against a trunk, he fetched some water and tried to pat the man's cheek with water. Splash him.

 

Wake up.

 

Get up.

 

If you're not dead, your eyes shouldn't be closed like that, your body so limp and useless.

 

The Keeper paused and sighed, sitting across from Origo with a blank gaze before looking down at his wrist. He wondered if he could will the other to get up. Slap his neural responsive system, pinch the thing that would make those eyes jolt open. He tried, eyes closing tightly and focusing on ideas of healing (that dumbass) Origo and helping (the idiot) to awaken. He didn't have a lot of hope. Better than nothing anyways.

 

Another exchange to boot.

[Drag]

A humming in his veins that felt warm, but somehow also carried an element of bitterness. Welcome yet unwelcome at the same time. Familiar. Connection.

It’s him and he's trying to...revive me.

“Stop,” Origo slurred as he severed the attempts Gravekeeper was making to bring him back to the land of consciousness. He would not have the young man wasting his precious gift. “Not…necessary.” He wasn’t sure exactly how long he had been unconscious, but Origo knew it had not been long. It never was, unless he gave too much of himself, which he rarely did.

 

Slowly cracking his lids to half-mast he rolled his eyes to the left and right to see that wrought iron fencing and statuary had given way to thickets and tall, sweet smelling conifers. He closed his eyes again and breathed in the scent of the rain-damp evening forest. “Where is this place you’ve dragged me to, human? I like it. So much life here.” His face, neck and robes were wet, but that didn’t bother him. All he cared about was this momentary sense of freedom away from the spirits and tombs.

 

Origo’s dark gaze drifted over to Gravekeeper and a half smile played over his lips. “Your body took things well it seems.” Origo pulled himself up to his feet, holding onto the tree for stability until his system fully acclimated to the switch in energy levels. “Tell me, do you still hunger?”

[TeaPlease]

He let out a breath. He didn't know he'd even be holding it in the first place. Something in his face burned- it felt like a sting. Not the sun's burn but something different. The Gravekeeper slowly came to his senses and remained on the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest and scratching at a tingling itch on his knee. Words were, for once, not coming to him. His mind churned at a slow rate.

 

Origo was up.

 

He was also smiling.

 

Like this was a joke. A ploy. A test- what would happen if-? What would you do if-? Was everything a joke to this man? Did he expect it all the time, make the calculations in his head and bet on it? Was the Gravekeeper being played by this creature flawlessly? The stinging intensified and he felt it go down his cheeks. He rubbed at his eye, where it all started and was centered.

 

"Don't. Do that again." The young man remained on the ground, ignoring the question. He rubbed at his other eye. "That wasn't okay. And I don't appreciate it. So don't do things like that or this or others again," he finished shortly. Only then did he stand, shaky on his feet and annoyed- all sorts of things. His emotions were bundled into a mess and his life was twisted and bent into the shape of the nearly smirking character in front of him. His appetite was gone. He wanted to go back home and go to sleep again and see if a restart would be available.

 

A new chapter to this book. Revising the current page. Something.