#SO THIS GOT LONGER THAN EXPECTED BUT ...... I GUESS VICTOR HAS HIS PROPER BACKSTORY NOW

[incogniiita]

{ ✴ }   ︎——   THE SOIL IS RICH AND DARK WITHIN HIS PALM.  there’s an eerie peace within the moonlit silence of the night.  quiet enough for victor to hear the silent whispers that he wished he could drown into nothing.  they are guides to him, but also a constant mockery of his regrets.  weary eyes trace the fading stone carvings upon the crumbling headstone.  the fact it had stayed around this long was surprising to him.  no new body arose to claim this grave.  and for that, a part of him was grateful for it.        calloused fingertips move across the cool grey stone.  worn over the centuries of erosion and weather.  the headstone was hidden away versus the rest in the graveyard.  high towering brush and shrubs keeping it safe and secluded.  victor took his time removing dead branches and weeds that the cold winds of autumn have brushed upon it.  lush green grows around the grave, but nothing dares to touch where the body is buried.  a sign of respect and care.  something that wasn’t visible within him in day to day life.  that was something he reserved for her.  and  only  her.  

       even if it had been almost three hundred years ago, the memory stays fresh and wounded in his mind. he had lived only a hundred years before that time ---- marking him in present day as almost half a millennium old.  just beginning his training within magic and necromancy.  life had been lonely once his mentor had passed on, giving all skill and knowledge he had to victor to continue on within his studies.  magic and necromancy had already given him a longer life and vision of youth.  but he knew it wouldn’t last for long.       traveling as a stowaway, wanting to see the world and break from the confines of europe, that was how he had met  karinne.  she was sweet, kind hearted, and warm.  a french aristocrat who wanted to become an author even if the only thing expected of her was to marry well.  victor wasn’t necessarily poor from the contracts and jobs he took, but he wasn’t of nobility either.  a grey patch that was difficult to place in society’s standards.  he had respect as a necromancer and magician though. he kept people safe and disposed of threats when needed or hired to do so.      both himself and karinne grew close, their bond to one another strong but shy.  even after a few years, they had yet to utter  i love you  to one another.  barely holding hands, fleeting kisses exchanged upon their knuckles with rose tinted cheeks.  her smile filled his heart with an immense feeling of belonging. they knew what their hearts felt, but they did not speak it.  and that regret will forever cling to him.       one night, in the dead of winter, his mentor’s mistakes came back to haunt him.  mistakes that victor was unaware of.  mistakes he wish he knew about sooner.  a corrupt sorcerer sought revenge, but since victor’s mentor was no more, he decided victor was the closest closure he would receive in the end.  the sorcerer had snuck his way into the house, confronting victor first by the warming furnace.  karinne being tucked away upstairs.  she had been visiting victor and had fallen asleep as victor continued to study downstairs.        victor attempted negotiation, offering money, valuables, even old tomes that once belonged to his mentor.  but the sorcerer was only interested in taking his life.  before the magic-user could make a move,  karinne had snuck downstairs, hitting the intruder from behind with a cast iron.  creating the perfect opportunity for a counter attack by victor, stunning the enemy.  instructing karinne to run, victor ushered her outside.  suddenly, the secluded home victor had chosen outside of town didn’t feel like a good idea anymore. the flickering orange-yellow lights was barely visible through the falling snow.  it was then a singing, burning, pain raked down victor’s back.  a horrid scream of pain ripping across his throat.         the corrupted sorcerer, with dark magic encasing his hands, marked victor across his spine.  the magic burning through the soft linen of his shirt, creating permanent black hand marks that shreds downwards upon his skin.  karinne, stumbling through the thick sheeted snow pauses in her escape, looking to see victor collapsing to the ground in agony.  swirls of smoke floating into the air with the scent of burnt cloth and skin.  victor can still hear the call of her voice calling out his name in panic.  mind fuzzy and shaken from the shock of magic, he attempts to crawl towards her.  but is grabbed by his attacker.  i’ve thought of something more suitable than your life,  the man states in his ear,  i’ll take hers instead ... and you will suffer as i wish your mentor had.          and like a flash of lightning before victor could shout even a warning, karinne was struck down.  her body falling easily within the snow below as the sorcerer seemed to disappear without a trace.  victor’s ears rung with deafening silence.  the cold winter winds was all he felt against him now.  that cold forever following him in years to come.  with aching bones, victor moves through the snow to her.  he hadn’t noticed the tremor within his hands until he reached for karinne, holding her close to him.  it was as if she was in a quiet slumber.  frozen tears begin to cling to his cheeks as he sobbed in grief.  a visceral shout of rage and agony moving through the mountains.  an echo of loss spanning across the woods.       he hadn’t told her.  after all those years and he was too cowardice to admit three simple words to her.  months before, he had bought a ring.  keeping it hidden within his bedside table.  waiting and anticipating for the right moment to ask her hand.  he had been too late.  too late because he  hesitated  in the end.      that was when the shift began.  the moment he decided to move down a darker path.  one that he hadn’t dreamed of taking in the entirety of his career as a necromancer.   he wanted to barter with death.  to change what had been done.  to tell her that he  loved  her.       he worked through ancient tomes, ones that his mentor had warned him about using.  ones that taught necromancers how to raise the dead.  which meant he had to barter with death.  the summoning was a tolling experience.  only souls of the dead can speak with the reaper himself. and so, for five minutes, victor had died upon markings of chalk.  knowing if his plea would fail, it would result in a permanent death.  a high risk that many within the magical community never dared to take.       victor met face to face with death themselves.  bargaining to bring karinne back, offering anything in return to mend his broken heart.   death, feeling pitiful that day, spoke calmly:   i will grant you the gift of reviving the dead ... but in return, you shall face everlasting consequences for your decision if you choose to accept it.   not caring about the fine lines of the contract, victor hastily accepted the terms.        and with a harsh gasp of breath,  he was reborn.        after karinne’s funeral, he awaited until nightfall.  until the moon was high in the sky above the graveyard.  placing his hands upon the ground where her body lay, old latin begins to fall from his lips.  shadows calling to him like a beacon.  little did he know that those shadows of death would stay within him.  thus began the whisper of voices.  his eyes filled with black, turning into ebony orbs as he called upon his newfound gift granted to him by death themselves.  the ground beneath him began to rumble.  like a hum of electricity racing through the dark soil below.         a pale hand then erupted from the ground below.  karinne now struggling to climb out her shallow dug grave.  with a breath of relief, victor rushes to her aid.  both embraced tightly within their arms.  ‘i love you’  he desperately whispers to her over and over into the crook of her shoulder.  his heart weeping in happiness that his love had returned.  she was weak, but gently she laughed.  repeating his words with a faint dazed smile.        the two returned to the home in the mountains.  the first few days being absolute bliss.  victor finally giving her the ring he had held onto months before her death.  unofficially marrying.  it was untimely bliss ... that is, until karinne began showing strange symptoms.       throughout moments in the day, there would be times where her expression would turn blank, staring into space.  becoming unresponsive.  repeating daily tasks.  muttering inaudible sentences and words.  her skin beginning to mold as her eyes began turning milky white.  victor, horrified, he was at a loss of what to do.  was this one of the consequences death spoke of ?  trying to bring some sense back to karinne on one of the worser days, she suddenly lashed out and attacked him.  shrieking about how he put her within this torment. how she wanted to return to a peaceful slumber.  victor attempted to plead at her to stop, but her violent outburst worsened.  out of panic, his hands fly to the frame of her face, eyes returning to black orbs through tears.  her restless life slowly draining from her body.  he could feel her life fade through his fingertips.

     cradling her lifeless body again for a second time, he realizes this ‘gift’ is a two way road.  he can give but also take away life.  silently, tears of grief roll down his cheeks.  losing karinne for a second time.  having to take her life by his hands.  now his hands were the only ones to blame. now you understand,  a voice echoes to him,  the consequences that you will have to burden for the rest of your life ...  use it wisely, my hand of death.            he reburies her at the graveyard and later leaves the town.  becoming a traveling drifter.  never truly staying in one spot.  taking contracts and hiring jobs.  a natural title surfacing around his reputation across the supernatural community:  the hand of death.  a fitting title.  but a title he does not care for.           and thus, he finds himself in front of her grave hundreds of years later.  he hadn’t visited this town in a long while.  he actively avoided it when he could.  but this time, work lead him here.  letting the familiar dark rich soil fall between his fingers.  a soft sigh is exhaled, standing slowly from where he knelt in front of the grave.  with one last touch upon the grave stone, he quietly utters:  i loved you,  before moving onwards past the burial site.  placing a toothpick between his grinding teeth.  jaw tensed and sharp.         with each step he takes across the lush green dewy grass, it silently withers under his boots.