Hexus: Neo

)16( Acuity

[3:56AM, January 11, UTC +02:00]

ECRU stared solemnly at the puncture wounds on Adam's wrist. He waited as the skin slowly closed and wiped off the remaining droplets of blood. Adam sighed and Ecru's breath hitched as he looked up with expectation, then he remembered that the alteration in breathing was just a biological reaction to the blood loss.

His eyes stung.

There was a constant constriction around his non-beating heart and heaviness in his chest which he fought to ignore. He didn't want to appear weak, but inside, he was terrified. He wanted to believe Adam would come out of this, and at the same time, he tried not to get his hopes up for fear of being cruelly disappointed. He was never that lucky. They'd managed to survive a lot of attacks in the past, but there was something different about this situation, an ominous feeling he couldn't quite place.

He looked towards the head of the bed. Adam's face was still flawlessly smooth, his short dirty blonde hair tousled in that effortlessly youthful way only he could manage, and although the blank expression was unsettling, as was the fact that his eyes opened and blinked periodically, Ecru was relieved that the longevity magic was still in effect. His gaze drifted back down, lingering on his hand that loosely held Adam's wrist. A pulse ran slowly beneath Adam's skin, unlike his own pulseless wrist which was circled by a barbed-wire tattoo.

The chest constriction became unbearable, and he released a sound that seemed like a cross between a choked sob and a restrained laugh.

It was ironic, how much his outlook on life had changed. Fifty years ago, he never would have imagined that a time will come where a person would captivate and paralyse him so completely. Granted, Adam was more than just a person, but the hatred and resentment he'd borne towards the entire species of mankind would have made him scoff at the idea of even being affiliated with a human, let alone so deeply bonded to one. He put the tattoo on his wrist as a constant reminder of how hopelessly cruel people could be. He could remember being bound with ropes so tight they broke skin, the blood dripping down his hands, the cries of condemnation as he was led to the gallows to be hung for heresy and witchcraft.

And all he'd done to deserve it was save the life of the village priest.

Granted, magic had been used to create the electricity which restarted the old man's failing heart, but the gratitude he expected was abandoned in favour of sanctimony and judgement. His young mind couldn't fathom why he was to be killed for doing something good, no matter the method. So he ran, unwittingly giving the charged mob the opportunity they'd been looking for. They caught up to him in the forest, beat him mercilessly and left him battered and bleeding on the muddy ground, to choke on his own blood and gasp into punctured lungs as his life slowly faded away.

He pushed away the rest of the memories, but the reality facing him in the silent, deathly, harrowing room didn't seem much better. He grit his teeth and his grip on Adam's wrist tightened.

Don't you dare...

Don't you dare give up.

Please.

He wiped away a tear that threatened to fall as the grandfather clock in the hall chimed four times. He remembered that Giacomo had sent a message sometime around midnight, saying that he wanted to meet up at Wayfarers. He reluctantly stood up from the bed and got dressed, and as he moved out of the room, he had to step aside quickly as Damilare rushed past, seemingly in a haste.

"What is-?"

The black man turned, his face scrunched with fury.

"They're gone! I can't believe they actually..."