vulgaris

[vulgaris]

VulgariS

take me, take me back to your bed. i love you so much that it hurts my head.
say, i don't mind you under my skin. oh, let the bad parts in, the bad parts in.

He tries to ignore the death slowly spreading around him, since it fails to ever sink its claws into him. His children are all safe and Leliana manages to keep her sickness at bay, for the most part. Today he ventures from home in search of others who might not be so lucky though. He has seen children like Sabbath, born premature in the wake of the plague and left motherless in the bitter cold of winter. Maybe he can offer them a safe place to stay, he thinks with a slight frown as he lifts his gaze to the forest surrounding him.

But he’s dragged from these thoughts when a child collides with his side, making him take a step back to catch himself. He can’t see well in the dark of the night but her warmth radiates golden against the blue-black of the snow. Vulgaris lowers his head once she groans and he sniffs at her curiously. Was she alone like the other children he’d seen the past few days? He couldn’t imagine Sabbath or Adna being alone out in the wilderness like this. The serpent steps closer and bumps her forehead as he might his own children whenever they fall.

“Are you alright? It’s not safe to be out here,” he mumbles while the words spill from his lips in white puffs of breath. She’s gasping for air and he fears she might already be sick judging by her heaving lungs. “Where are your parents?”

He lifts his head and searches the trees for some sign of others following behind her, but there is only the sound of their collective breathing. Vulgaris nervously paws at the snow as he looks back down at her, a heap of boyish legs and exhausted eyes. “My name is Vulgaris, by the way. What’s yours?” A half-hearted smile, then, as he attempts some normal conversation to soothe her troubled mind. He supposes she could follow him home if there was really no other place for her to go.

@[warlow]