#and grab his face while hes all like this BUT I TRIED GHKJDG

[lrdvyke]

[COMFORT]: sender cups a distressed receiver's face in their hands and steadies them by resting their foreheads together + from @goldhunt

It is not the village underneath the Church of Inhibition. Nor is it near the tower with its constant yellow flame, brought forth by those on their last dregs of life. They give their all to the Frenzy, hoping for a higher chance, but it wastes them away. No. It is not that. Instead, this village is merely for the ailing. Once brought low by a nameless plague until the Frenzy came through, took over the rest and infected their already broken minds. Vyke swears he can handle this village, filled with people in yellow rags to denote their sickness. ( Where are his? ) They stare off into the flame, unaware of anyone nearby until you touch them first.

He can handle it. He has done so before. He can now.

Voices stop him. They whisper. Some croon. Others yell. Indecipherable. A jumble altogether, ceaseless. A melody too, hopeless and somber, ekes out in the distance. There is an echo to it, as if within a cave. Perhaps in the depths? Far, far below. The voices continue. He cannot tell from where, nor can he tell what they are saying. Still. It surrounds him. The Flame grows brighter and brighter, until it is swallows everything whole. A wriggle inside his mind, it reaches forth. Try to grasp. The voices only grow louder. A moan. ( Is it him? ) Only one thing is understandable: the plea for succor.

Ah, there you are.

His eye burst alight with blinding pain, as teeth grit and body contorts backwards. A loud roar fills his head, fills his entire being. Calm hands touch him then. A chill to them, but also a steady strength. Fingertips press into his burning flesh at the sides, but he wants to pull them away. He wants to get out of the grip. But they remain, pulling upon him instead and bringing him forward. His hands are ripped off of his eyes, feeling his face cradled. There is a gentleness that is at odds with the pain, and Vyke tries to focus on it. He tries. Even as his body finally crumples forward, no longer locked in place. He feels Darian close, holding him up so precariously.

❛ I'm here, ❜ Vyke whispers. Breathless. He keeps his eyes closed though, knowing that what his forehead rests upon is Darian's own—not willing to tempt the Frenzy out despite the craving deeply rooted inside of him. ❛ I'm here. ❜

@goldhunt !