A Watchful Eye
Mikael felt like his mind was slipping from his fingers like sand. He had tried grabbing onto memories like a man dying of thirst. Like a fool. He could not seem to leave it be. Each catch brought him somewhere long forgotten and long burdened by the truth of what haunted him. His Mother, his light, hadn't been as bright as he had thought. He could still see her crazy eyes staring him down as she stood over the Pastor. Feral. Like a wolf about to rip out the lamb's throat. Absentmindedly, he felt his brows furrowing together as he brought his hand up to rub absentmindedly at his face. Fingers spread across to hide the downturn of his lips as he tried to focus on other things.
Brick pressed uncomfortably against his spine from where he leaned against the wall of a building. His gaze caught the chatter and jovial smiles of people passing with packages in their hands. Bodies turned toward one another in a familiar sense of belonging. Heads dipped close as inside jokes seemed to slip easily from easy grins. It felt strange watching people carry on as they did. happy and content with the world. It made him feel strange. His mask had long since lain broken on the ground, and yet he did not find the freedom he had been hoping for. For now, he was a prisoner of loneliness.
Once, he had Yefim and Valentin to fill the void in himself that he seemed incapable of filling. But who was he to expect them to fill the gaping hole that Jakob had left? How could he have not noticed the pattern? He could see each of their faces. Valentin. Yefim. Replacements. Each one for something larger. Something holier. Jakob. How long had he been worshipping at the altar of better things around him? Ever since he was a child? When Jakob had whispered sweet nothings of acceptance and love? And he had fallen for it. Let the boy lead him to the water, wearing a thorn crown. And he would have been happy for it. So happy that Jakob was pleased with him.
Mikael swallowed thickly as he watched a dark-haired man walk by. Tall and stoic, so much like Jakob. Though he lacked the broad planes of his form, and his hair was less than perfect. The man continued his way down the street, his sombre walk ambling on. Maybe he was a banker who was an angry drunk. Or potentially, he had just lost a fight and was now stalking off to lick his wounds. It was a nice distraction. Thinking about the secrets that people carried beneath their coats. He wondered how much someone could see his own secrets that peeked out beneath his grey turtleneck. The boy's left hand absent-mindedly reached up to pull his collar slightly higher up his neck.
Mentions: @Magnus Blackwood
PC: Percival Rainwood
A Watchful Eye
Magnus Blackwood!
DURMSTRANG | SECOND | OUTFIT | HEX
Russian/French | 04.14.2026 | WC 498
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M A G N U S |
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B L A C K W O O D |
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Reducio ACTIONS + MENTIONS @Mikael Halldorson |
Reducio OOC NOTES None |
Reducio STATS/OTHER Stamina: 3 Evasion: 6 Strength: 8 Wisdom: 8 ArcPower: 2 Accuracy: 8 Coded by Cirrus Nam |
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A Watchful Eye
Mikael's hand drifted upward, fingers hooking underneath the thick collar of his turtleneck in a futile attempt to cool himself down. The summer heat seemed to sink into his very bones, clinging to him relentlessly. Damp strands of his dark hair stuck stubbornly to his forehead, and his cheeks were tinged pink from the heat. And yet, he found himself craving the warmth the sun gave him; he could honestly say he welcomed it.
The warmth was foreign in the kindest of ways. For his home was a cold and dark place. The harsh winters held a terrifying grip on the land, and the tall pines always seemed peppered with snow. So he stood there, allowing the sun to wrap him up so gently in its hold. Though, if he were being honest, he wouldn't have minded something cool to drink. His throat felt as dry as cotton swabs. Something with ice sounded heavenly, and yet he refused to remove himself from the building's side. Even as the brick pricked into his back uncomfortably. He wasn't entirely sure why; it wasn't as if someone had asked him to wait there. He wasn't waiting for anyone, no expectations of interaction.
Perhaps this is simply where he belonged. It seemed a somber solution, to sit tucked away in a corner. Like a cracked teacup, carefully placed on the highest shelf, that the owner could not bear to throw away, and yet was terrified it would simply shatter under pressure. Is that not what he was to dear Valentin? Scared he would crumble away, terrified that he would drown in the deep, ever-expanding oceans of his mind. Like his mother. Oh my, like his mother, he too would drown without ever touching the water. Mikael's brows furrowed slightly, his lips turning down slightly as he tried to redirect himself from the thoughts that seemed to whirl endlessly in his head.
Curly blond hair caught his eye, as the sun seemed to light it up into a golden fire. The stranger had been walking fairly confidently at first, but his pace seemed to falter. As if he had lost something. Mikael couldn't say he understood what the other boy's face held. A sense of annoyance or something more. He seemed quite young, probably not older than a fourth year. Though maybe it was just his height that made it difficult to tell. His gaze slowly drew down to the cigarette held between the boy's hands. Mikael's frown grew, a marred spot, a ruined canvas on an otherwise decent picture. What was a boy that young smoking? A part of him wanted to grab the cigarette straight from the stranger's hands, and yet another part of him just wished to let it rest. Then there was the part of himself more content to stare down a stranger and not say anything. What can he say? He liked the comfort in routines. Staring at the other with wide eyes and a small frown.
Mentions: @Magnus Blackwood
PC: Percival Rainwood