Promised phrase seemed to play on repeat, those haunting lyrics echoing in his ears over all he’d obtained from that stall. An item weighing heavily upon the mind no matter how lightly it lay beneath the mask of fabrics. Those woven tones had promised sight. A resistance to the very lure that so often sought to sway the mind within the depths of a vampiric city. It sounded too good to be true, as if they spoke nothing but lies and yet it was still something the boy wished to believe. His thoughts racing as paces carried him far from the bustle of a temporary market, many of those within it already packing up for the evening.

Steps hardly finding reason for pause until he was nearly upon the wild’s edge, barely nestled beneath creeping darkness as a shroud’s tendrils stretched through the sky in hopes of blotting out dying light. It was upon this precipice of familiarity that he sat. Perching upon the smoothed surface of crumbling ruin before fishing out the eye obtained. One still suspended in the very solution provided, a container twisting in his hands as expression soured over the way it peered back at him.

How was he supposed to go about this?

There had been no guidance offered by the stranger he’d procured it from, only the guarantee it would work. That by some manner of magic the eye would find itself rooted, ingrained with muscles and nerves as if it were the original always housed within the socket. However, there was one little problem, a snag in his plans for a useless orb still dwelt in that cavern. It would need to be removed though Fineás doubted a hand was steady enough to commit such an act on his own. Though there was even less of a desire to seek out someone deranged enough to assist and he especially did not wish to bother his family with this.

They didn’t need to know.
Never needed to find out about any of this.

Scowl etched across his visage at the very thought before the length of a blade lay loosed from its sheath. The dagger spinning briefly over fingers as he watched the way it glinted in the fading sun. Surely there was a better way to go about this and yet his mind was set. One way or another an eye blinded by past mistake would be removed and the likely falsity of another would take its place. That dealer better not have been lying. This better not all be for nothing.

Without another thought free hand rose to slip beneath the coverings of an eye patch, pulling it free from any tanglings of hair to leave a visage bared. Bangs swept back, tucked behind an ear or laced into the bindings of all already pulled up even as focus was glued upon the blade. If he was going to do this he’d better do it quick. Dawdling and allowing himself time to think it over only brought nerves to seize desired motion. Called upon hesitation as mixed sights stared down the point of glimmering silver.

No matter his hatred of it, the abhorrence which bloomed within his chest, he could not deny the darker parts of what he had become. While he was not secretive of his nature, of the creature he was, he did not indulge in it like many others of his ilk. He did not revel in the shedding of blood, of the visceral warmth that ebbed and flowed with it. No matter the silken delicacy - he loathed it. No matter the necessity and craven madness that came, he refused to be ruled by it once again. To lose himself to that primeval disregard. An incident that had happened all of once before, halted prior and immediately after his change by the cuffs of silver that had marred him. A particularly volatile time within his life, one of the last times as well. So it had been with measured disregard that he had walked the venues of the traveling merchants. His cold stare masking none of his distaste for their choice of temporary settlement and the unwanted attention and groups that had likewise come with the announcement. However, it did provide those within the encampment a worthwhile distraction besides seeing just how far they could press his patience. It was on this normal patrol that he came across another, a far enough distance that suspicion was given to the figure. Silver narrowed and watchful as the last shops began to pack up and depart for their caravans for the night. The others thinned, and soon the rebuilt streets were eerily quiet. Silence a thin veneer in days since order had been restored and those who would otherwise resist either captured or executed. A task he painstakingly committed himself to ensure those whos moments were ending were indeed given something akin to honor in their final breaths. But it was getting to him. All the blood was beginning to weigh on him. Distraction was sought as he began to clear the distance between he and the lingering wraith. One who had sought the salvage of the encroaching mists obscuring the burdened heavens. Through distance, there was no telling the identity, but the face remained unrecognized even at his approach. He was younger, and the telling signs of mortality had him tightening his jaw slightly as arms crossed. He remained quiet, his presence seemingly unnoticed as the young man toyed with the dagger in his hand before lifting the patch that he assumed had covered his face - an easily dismissed detail from this angle. His brow quirked as his attention hinged upon the jar and its contents. Bemusement slowly becoming clarion as he watched the lad raise his weapon, only to hold it there. Hesitance clear. "Well?" He inquired, and in some morbid, macabre sentiment, he had almost wanted to bear witness to the havoc that would undeniably ensue. However, after another glance over him, a slight semblance of recognition lit within his cerebrum - not of the person before him, but the craftmanship of his blade. Thoughtful hum abandoned him, a different perspective taken as he held into account the flaming locks that poured from that crown and an almost dreadful sigh fled him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess, another of Alexandria's?"

Jahi - imagine the eyes are silver pls until i get home to change them uwu

All around him lay blotted out as the boy found fixation. Mind racing as focus lingered upon the gleam of a blade wavering before his vision. He had to concentrate, needed to push aside the notions of how badly he could fuck this up with just one little error. Aim needed to be true. Even should a mark be found it could not delve too deeply but, no matter what, the useless had to be removed from within its socket. It was the only way to see if this worked in bid for sight, for a shield to the temptuous charms of the damned.

Slow breath pulled into his lungs as the deer forced a hand to steady. Only for that frame to start, fumble briefly with weaponry as the voice of another pierced the veil shrouding his mind. Wild eyes flickered toward unknown tones only for the budding threat of fear to twist. Shift into annoyance mixed with bewilderment as eyes narrowed, “You’re askin’ me that like I’ve done this kind of shit before.” While he could not deny the curiosities behind it, such action had never found his blade. Not to any manner of beast and especially not to himself.

Though when recognition seemed to seize hold of the vampiric, it only furthered soured the boy’s mood. Of course this guy knew his mom. Askance earning a very obvious roll of the boy’s eyes, so that’s where he knew this guy from. A face beheld against the fires of a forge. Seeking repairs on weaponry or to place an order for the militia, at least that’s how Alexandria explained it before bidding him to stop dragging his feet and get to work. The blades aren’t going to make themselves. Within her presence Fineás had been silent. Content to allow murmured curses to die beneath the roar of flames and steady rhythm of craftsmanship.

But here… where a mother may never hear of it? He saw no reason to be so careful. Tongue clicking as he regarded the soldier, one he could not recall the name of though it would not stop him from address. “What’s it to you old man?” While there was no way to tell this one’s age for certain all grown ups could be labeled as old. Ancient even whether they were one of the accursed or not, “Gonna go tattle on me or something if I say yes?” Drag him back to the shop he would have returned to of his own accord in time? He hoped not.

“You’re askin’ me that like I’ve done this kind of shit before.” Perhaps a vague sense of amusement would have aligned itself to him upon such a spitfire retaliation on any other day. However, admittance would have to come that he found it... grating this evening. Many small and trite inconveniences today had wormed their way under his skin. The large meandering groups, the potential risks of smuggling and other unsavory possibilities that the merchants had drug in with them. He knew them to sell weaponry among their various trinkets, and he didn't want new access to such a thing to breathe life into the flames of the rebellion once more. A poison that he had finally cauterized from the ruins of the city. "The more you hesitate and think about it, the less likely to commit to the action you are." His arms crossed over the breadth of his chest, his gaze narrowing to match the irritated sluice of attitude the youth posed. However, recognition soon found the boy's face, though it did little to soften the vampire's own visage. “What’s it to you old man?” The edges of his lips would quirk upwards, the motion slow in consuming his mouth, one that didn't fade as quickly as a genuine smile of mirth. It also did nothing to soften the predatory scowl in his eyes, ravenous mercury that they were. “Gonna go tattle on me or something if I say yes?” Lips parted slightly, allowing the breath of a low sigh to depart them, an unnecessary remnant of life that no longer lingered. He would take several steps forward, lowering himself to nearly be level with the boy's features, but hovering just above. His hands folded in the space betwixt his knees. Patience. Control. While air was no longer fundamental to his survival, these two things were. They were the vital foundations of who he was - of what he had become in face of the avid hothead he had been in life. One that would perhaps match the boy's ferocity, however all that was left behind was ice. "There's a lesson to be learned here." He would begin, a slight hum leaving him as the echoes of magic reached out in attempt to ensnare the boy, focus laying primarily upon the faulty eye and where it rested within its socket. If success came, at first, it would merely be to still the motion of the orb. His own searing stare seeking to hold that which could behold him. If success had found the first threads, he would begin to apply pressure upon them, pulling, a jagged tug. "You see, I do not owe you or your mother the luxury of a mere message. You trespass here." The words were almost enough to make his teeth grit, those lightly pressed together. No threat of enthrallment passed from him, a charm he found no humor and little use in. "And my favors to her are paid in full." His brother had certainly made more than certain of that. A headache that was barely more than he could stand. Maybe it wasn't too late to teach this one a lesson in civility. "Luckily for you, it was me who found you. I'm going to help you with your little problem here." The frigid simper would return to his façade, more pressure applied should the bindings remain. This time enough to cause the beginnings of pain. "All you have to say is please."

Jahi - imagine the eyes are silver pls until i get home to change them uwu

Those first phrases briefly brought attentions to pull away for no matter how one may wish to argue, issue denial over all the damned said… there was truth behind his words. It did bring hesitance. Harm never purposefully inflicted upon himself and there was no question in Fineás’ mind that this would hurt like a bitch. And it was that knowing paired with inexperience which stayed his hand for longer than one cared to admit, sparking irritation to turn upon the very man who issued interruption of such acts.

Focus whirling upon him the moment those steps began to draw closer, a blade turning in his hands as if preparing to use it against another. Distaste evident in the sharp glare fixing upon a hunter’s own harshened stare. A tingle never felt as it snaked through his veins, only truly registering within his conscious when that gaze could no longer turn. An unseeing eye unresponsive to the twitch of muscle which normally brought it to shift alongside vision. Yet even if it had not been snared by the pulse of magic - for what else could it have been? - there was an unwillingness to look away now. Venom only deepening as sights narrowed.

Trespass? How was he trespassing when so many others wandered these lands? Merchants seemingly able to set their stalls wherever they pleased when none had been seen when he’d first traversed these lands to leave Crue Efros. Accusation only further stirring the boy’s ire, “If I’m trespassing that means you are too!” He dwelt within the vampric lands just as this ancient man did. What gave him the right to proclaim intrusion or not? It didn’t matter if this guy was part of the militia!

Brow knitted in visible discomfort upon the steady tug, only for breath to hitch fully as teeth clicked against each other. Any scathing retort swiftly dying upon his tongue with that first pang of reverberating pain. Nerves bringing a blade to once more turn in his hands, thoughts racing yet finding little purchase on any one notion until focus settled upon the cold smile lacing the vampire’s visage. Leaving Fineás certain he didn’t want this one’s version of help.

Growing anxieties swallowed back, allowing irritation to once again lace against lyrics and yet they’d lost some of their bite. Unease clear in comparison to all he’d said before. “I’m not going to beg,” wasn’t going to plead. Oh please sir, please tear it from its roots. No, that wasn’t going to happen. “Never asked for your help anyways,” and yet he had not yet denied it either. A dagger finally stilling in his grasps, a hilt firmly between his fingers as the glint of slivered blade silently threatened another.

“If I’m trespassing that means you are too!” He was beginning to be even further irritated. Was it annoyance, or fear hidden under the cloak and dagger of that waving banner? Many found it easier to brave things they found fear in if they only buried the terror below pointed anger and frustration. Something else he knew from example. The first time he had encountered one of the undead from beyond the wall, he had been horrified. His fingers shivering along the pommel of his sword. He had bitten it back, dissolved it by fixating upon the friend the monster had assaulted. As long as he had focused and breathed life into that rage, he believed he could have faced anything. He may have been right, once upon a time. Now, however, animosity only turned into visceral bedlam and carnage. Strength that his own in mortality could never even hope to contest. No longer did his grasp waiver. either. Nothing had sparked fear within him for quite some time now. Part of him missed it, perhaps another would think him depraved, but he yearned for that simple mortal whim. He did not miss the way that blade shifted towards him, an unspoken threat, one he would nearly dare were he not teetering upon the tightrope of his own restraints. The back of his throat burned. Ash and smoke that he could nearly taste rolling within the confines of his mouth. If he was truly to hold any manner of aid to the youth and remove the broken link of sight without further harm, he could not afford to spill further blood of his own. A risk he also hoped the youth would realize. “If I’m trespassing that means you are too!” His head would tilt, slightly. "No, I am a conqueror. Would you like to be also?" The words were accompanied by the ghost of teeth, a presence softly announced by the plight of a shallow smile that pulled too tightly at his lips. Regardless, the young man seemed to note the presence of the magic that pooled within his body, filling the fine strings of his veins, his very blood threatening to betray him. “I’m not going to beg,” he spat, and Theo would apply just a bit more pressure to the eye within its socket, useless tissue reverberating with the inklings of patient violence. “Never asked for your help anyways.” He would roll his shoulders in a vague shrug. "There is a difference between having manners and begging. Saying please does not always mean the later option." He would maintain the level of pressure, prepared to rip the organ from its socket. "Being polite, or not, simply decides how much this is about to hurt."

Jahi - imagine the eyes are silver pls until i get home to change them uwu