dime piece, [c]

Stop? But why? "You look so handsome now." Not that he wasn't physically handsome before, but, "Your clothes are so presentable."

The smile that appears briefly on Corbett's lips looks tired, unused, but it makes Kris smile honestly. And for a slight moment, he feels caring. Like a provider.

But it's interrupted, sharp fangs breaking through his skin, crimson staining the other's lips. Kris' eyes go wide, a gasp tugging from his vocal cords. He tries to push away but Corbett is bigger, so he grips the gold chain that hangs at the strigoi's neck and tugs it, chanting quickly as he turns it from gold to silver.

"Get OFF me!"

corbett

Kris stumbles back, pale palm gripping at his neck. His skin is stained red like the vampire's lips and his eyes are wide with shock. Pink hues glare at the taller male, mouth hung open as he stands there in a slight hunch over.

The screams fill his ears, desperate and agonized with pain. He deserved it.

"You filthy monster..." Kris hisses. "I didn't invite you in."

corbett

chain links chink, snapping. fallen away from his skin, it leaves cherry red welts. gone. pain subsides. breath jams down his tender throat to arching lungs. he leans heavily on wilmer.

"i'm fine now. thank you."

so warm, so surprisingly solid. their heigh different is significant, yet wilmer grip is firm and he is sturdy under his weight. the incense smell lulls him.

"i warned him not to get close." he murmurs, voice soft with a light rasp. "he wouldn't listen."

KRISTOFFER KROWE

the chain drops to the floor with an anticlimactic clink, forgotten, passed-over. his attention lingers on corbett as he sits the strigoi down on the settee and looks him over with a concerned eye. the angry welts snaking around corbett's throat seem to constrict his own. his gaze glosses over the blood—someone else's—altogether too quickly.

wilmer steps away to address the other magician in the room. worry gives way to an undefined anger. he knows playing the blame game is pointless, doesn't want to point fingers, but when he looks at kris there's still a flintiness that half-obscures sympathy.

"i did tell you to keep your distance from corbett—" he stops and frowns, realizing the implication's more accusatory than he means to be. "nevermind," wilmer softens his tone, tries for a smile a shade too tight. "i'll have to bandage your neck."

corbett KRISTOFFER KROWE

His hand drops to expose the puncture wounds on his neck, letting Wilmer get a better look at them. Though, as the strigoi starts to speak, Kris looks up at him. His eyes widen, his mouth going slack. It feels as though his heart drops to the very pit of his stomach and weighs heavy like stones. "It was an accident," he whispers, pink hues fixated on that bloody mouth.

Disgusting? He feels his being falling further, like the ground below his feet has crumbled away into nothingness. His blood is disgusting. Kris' eyes fill with tears again as he's laughed at, wide as the tears roll down his pale face.

These are honest tears.

wilmer cook corbett

words cut with serrated edges. magicians always side with magicians, especially against filthy monsters. he wipes blood from his downturned lips. he feels no longer welcomed, unwanted. the room’s growing smaller, darker. his collar constricts his raw throat. bile rising up.

legs trembling the weight forced onto them, unable to be steadied. cold eyes travel between the two magicians. then he leaves them to each other.

wilmer cook

his back is turned, but he doesn't need to see corbett to sense the strigoi's betrayed glare. he doesn't bother looking, continues instead his trajectory across the room. of the two, he's already picked his battle.

returning to kristoffer's side with a first aid kit in hand, wilmer crouches down and sets the box open on the floor. the man looks almost shell-shocked—he's seen the same distant glaze in his soldiers' eyes before. ripping open an alcohol pad, he clears his throat and tries to summon the right words, then reaches out to awkwardly brush hair back from kristoffer's neck.

"kristoffer? this...might sting."

corbett KRISTOFFER KROWE