[it's good that Kit seems to be completely absorbed with his companion's reply; it means that he's likely to have completely missed the sharp way that Vincent watches him as he mulls over the statement.
the look has vanished by the time he looks up at him again, but by then Vincent had seen enough. it's clear that his words had touched something even deeper than a nerve. a lesser person might feel some guilt, but there isn't an iota of remorse in his countenance. the other boy's troubled thoughts were his own problem and no one else's. if he couldn't handle the truth, that was something he had to work through.
it does, however, influence his response. a rustling noise accompanies his words as he pulls out his notebook, idly flipping through its pages.]
I already told you, they aren't personal. How many times do I have to repeat myself?
[even diminished as he is, Kit should know better than to directly tell Vincent not to do something. it was simply asking for it.
having found the appropriate page he tosses the notebook his companion's way, the angle making it very likely to collide with his head if his reflexes aren't keen enough. should the other teen decide to peruse the predestined selection, he'll find even the title to be an ominous one: The Cursed Child.
Vincent had only gotten halfway through the lyrics before being interrupted, but their unfinished state does nothing to make the words any less powerful. every line is completely raw, overflowing with pain and bloodlust in equal measure. despite its murderous intent and graphic imagery, the overwhelming feeling the song gives off is...all-encompassing, unending loneliness.
for someone to have written this without any personal attachment, they must truly be a visionary.]
no subject
the look has vanished by the time he looks up at him again, but by then Vincent had seen enough. it's clear that his words had touched something even deeper than a nerve. a lesser person might feel some guilt, but there isn't an iota of remorse in his countenance. the other boy's troubled thoughts were his own problem and no one else's. if he couldn't handle the truth, that was something he had to work through.
it does, however, influence his response. a rustling noise accompanies his words as he pulls out his notebook, idly flipping through its pages.]
I already told you, they aren't personal. How many times do I have to repeat myself?
[even diminished as he is, Kit should know better than to directly tell Vincent not to do something. it was simply asking for it.
having found the appropriate page he tosses the notebook his companion's way, the angle making it very likely to collide with his head if his reflexes aren't keen enough. should the other teen decide to peruse the predestined selection, he'll find even the title to be an ominous one: The Cursed Child.
Vincent had only gotten halfway through the lyrics before being interrupted, but their unfinished state does nothing to make the words any less powerful. every line is completely raw, overflowing with pain and bloodlust in equal measure. despite its murderous intent and graphic imagery, the overwhelming feeling the song gives off is...all-encompassing, unending loneliness.
for someone to have written this without any personal attachment, they must truly be a visionary.]