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30-04-2023, 11:43 AM
Disclaimer: This recording is being written retrospectively, ICly it happened months ago. I just didn't have the time to write it sadly enough.
Entry 3: He's gone...
The cyan blue projector sparks into life, an acolyte sits staring into the eyes of the viewer. Five deep cuts that are still in the process of healing run across the left of his cheek and jaw, the wounds from having another Pureblood's talons tear through his flesh. For quite some time he sits still and emotionless, no tension in the muscles of his face, he would seem almost hollow. Eventually tears begin the well up in his eyes and his lip begins to quiver, breaking his silence as he speaks, a tearful tremor in his voice.
"My brother is gone..."
At that point his voice quivers and a whimper almost escapes him, his head falls low and hangs there. Both hands slowly raise to encompass his face, as they raise his arms are trembling and fingers tensed and contorted. Again he falls still for a few moments, aside from the trembling of his hands, his shoulders can be seen heaving a few times yet no sound escapes him. Leaning back in his chair, hands still over his face, talons pressing against his skin a deep exhale can be heard escaping him, emptying his lungs as he composed himself.
The young Pureblood's hands then snap down, palms slapping into his thighs as he bares his teeth and let's out an enraged snarl aimed skyward. The young Pureblood's muscular neck tensed in anger, veins and tendons protruding as he cries out skyward.
"Why?! Why did it have to come to this?!"
Soon the emotion and tension fades from him, slowly he turns to set his gaze into the viewer's eyes and speaks as if he was talking not to the viewer, but to Vorontyr.
"You were the one thing left that I actually cared for, the only one who truly knew what I had experienced... What I felt, and what I thought. And now, now you are gone... Recently I have found my emotions uncontrollable, I almost beat a once close friend to death. When I sat atop him, it wasn't Johran who looked back at me; it was you Vorontyr. Even now I can't escape your madness, your influence, we share the same face and we always have - the only difference now is that I don't recognise myself when I look into a reflection, I see you. Your madness."
An emotional, and near uncontrollable laughter begins to escape the young Pureblood's lips. Head falling back as the maddened cackle escapes him, yet with the ever present under tone of a tearful and tensed voice. As the laugh dies down it explodes a couple of times in the process, before changing into tears. The young male falls forwards, head swinging as he brings his palms up to catch his face. Speaking through gritted teeth and the hands covering his face.
"I don't know how I'll survive this, I can't control my thoughts or passion anymore... Will this be the death of me, of us, of our Household? No, your death can't be for nothing... I have to find a way, there must be something I can do, something that someone can teach me. This is not the end of us!"
Taking his left hand away from his face he reveals the still healing wounds trailing down his face once more, a single vibrant eye looking into the viewer's own as his hand obscures the lens and flicks a switch, the recording flickering closed to an end.
Entry 3: He's gone...
The cyan blue projector sparks into life, an acolyte sits staring into the eyes of the viewer. Five deep cuts that are still in the process of healing run across the left of his cheek and jaw, the wounds from having another Pureblood's talons tear through his flesh. For quite some time he sits still and emotionless, no tension in the muscles of his face, he would seem almost hollow. Eventually tears begin the well up in his eyes and his lip begins to quiver, breaking his silence as he speaks, a tearful tremor in his voice.
"My brother is gone..."
At that point his voice quivers and a whimper almost escapes him, his head falls low and hangs there. Both hands slowly raise to encompass his face, as they raise his arms are trembling and fingers tensed and contorted. Again he falls still for a few moments, aside from the trembling of his hands, his shoulders can be seen heaving a few times yet no sound escapes him. Leaning back in his chair, hands still over his face, talons pressing against his skin a deep exhale can be heard escaping him, emptying his lungs as he composed himself.
The young Pureblood's hands then snap down, palms slapping into his thighs as he bares his teeth and let's out an enraged snarl aimed skyward. The young Pureblood's muscular neck tensed in anger, veins and tendons protruding as he cries out skyward.
"Why?! Why did it have to come to this?!"
Soon the emotion and tension fades from him, slowly he turns to set his gaze into the viewer's eyes and speaks as if he was talking not to the viewer, but to Vorontyr.
"You were the one thing left that I actually cared for, the only one who truly knew what I had experienced... What I felt, and what I thought. And now, now you are gone... Recently I have found my emotions uncontrollable, I almost beat a once close friend to death. When I sat atop him, it wasn't Johran who looked back at me; it was you Vorontyr. Even now I can't escape your madness, your influence, we share the same face and we always have - the only difference now is that I don't recognise myself when I look into a reflection, I see you. Your madness."
An emotional, and near uncontrollable laughter begins to escape the young Pureblood's lips. Head falling back as the maddened cackle escapes him, yet with the ever present under tone of a tearful and tensed voice. As the laugh dies down it explodes a couple of times in the process, before changing into tears. The young male falls forwards, head swinging as he brings his palms up to catch his face. Speaking through gritted teeth and the hands covering his face.
"I don't know how I'll survive this, I can't control my thoughts or passion anymore... Will this be the death of me, of us, of our Household? No, your death can't be for nothing... I have to find a way, there must be something I can do, something that someone can teach me. This is not the end of us!"
Taking his left hand away from his face he reveals the still healing wounds trailing down his face once more, a single vibrant eye looking into the viewer's own as his hand obscures the lens and flicks a switch, the recording flickering closed to an end.
