∞ [ accidental video ] | backdated to sunday morning, before sunrise

[fatespoken]

[ Amory Felix sits on a kitchen chair, leaning against his arm propped up on the table. There's absence in his expression, a stolidity that Amory struggles to maintain, no matter what his appearance suggests. Blood soaks the right arm of his white button-up, decorated with large rip at the top shoulder. It exposes flesh plastered with dried blood. His hair, cropped-short, joins the bloodbath with matted clumps of hair. There's more, but it's cut off from the camera. ]

—the City, right?

[ ooc: Cursed with Road Not Taken! ]

Comments

voice;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

[Have a startled Weasley.]

Amory? What in Merlin's name happened?

voice; | 1/2

[fatespoken]

[ It takes 5 minutes or so for him to respond. ]

I got shot. My fault.

voice;

[fatespoken]

Who are you?

voice;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

[Long pause is long. Okay, either this is a curse, or... okay, let's cover all bases first. Erm.]

Very funny, mate. Sure you aren't hurt anywhere else?

voice;

[fatespoken]

I said. I don't know who you are.

voice;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

[A vaguely irritated sigh on her end, but her voice is even enough.]

Ginny Weasley. Pretending you don't know who I am won't make me any less concerned, you know. As much as I hate to admit it.

voice;

[fatespoken]

I don't know who you are, Ginny Weasely. You don't need to be concerned.

It only looks bad.

voice;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

[And she nods on her end of things, wiping a hand over her face. Curse it is.]

How'd it happen, then?

voice;

[fatespoken]

I was being stupid.

[ His face is still tilted to the side. ]

[never_very_good]

[Frankie yawns on the other side of the table.]

Remember any'f it?

[fatespoken]

[ Can you tell he's getting tired too? The lean of his head should suggest so. He's full, comforted, disgusted. He adjusts the free hand in his lap, exposing a wrist painted with dried blood-- too old to be anything recent.

Like flickering shadows.

[never_very_good]

Poetic.

[The tone of that, it is not admiring.]

[fatespoken]

I wasn't aiming for it. [ He shrugs. ] That's what it looks like. Feels like.

[never_very_good]

You'll get over it.

[fatespoken]

I suppose.

Didn't mean to try and tear out your throat.

[never_very_good]

Know the feeling, believe it or not.

Better now?

[fatespoken]

We worked together, didn't we? [ The fingers of his free hand press against the table in an arbitrary path. ] I think.

[ Then, hesitation. ]

Better.

[eiremagic]

[Grumbling]

Omadhaun.

[fatespoken]

I don't speak... Irish, is it?

[ He shifts in his awkwardly, throwing a glance at the leprechaun. Aside from the blood, Eden should be able to sense another difference-- his powers have been carved out, like a pit pulled from a fruit, leaving only the shreds of rough remainders. ]

Can't remember you either.

[eiremagic]

[She mutters in Irish, and then switches to English]

Yeh fuckin' owe me for this shite.

[fatespoken]

Do I?

[eiremagic]

Yeah. Come Monday, yeh owe me.

[fatespoken]

How would I pay you? I have nothing to offer. I've sold everything else.

[eiremagic]

Don' worry. Yeh'll find a way.

[Pause]

And yeh even consider bitin' Frankie, and I'll pull yehr fangs out with me bare hands.

[fatespoken]

I'm not a savage. [ A pause of his own. ] I don't need any more. I won't sink my teeth into someone's neck for sport.

[ His tone hardens at the end, anger cutting into his words, as much as he tries to retract it. ]

Eden, right? Your name is Eden. [ He remembers that, at least. ]