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It takes a while for Fernando's vision to focus. His eyes are heavy, and the first thing he picks up is a window. Birds chirping and sitting on a tree branch, picking at the leafs.
It's his window, and the same birds as every morning.
He gazes at them for a while, and eventually scenes and emotions come rushing into him; feline characteristics and golden eyes.
He tells himself it was all a dream. That his subconscious was being creative with him, like it never had before.
He sits up and rubs his face, before noticing he's in sweatpants and a sweater. The ones he dreamt about.
His heart flutters, but he recovers, and sets on starting his day and actually getting chores done. But he stops himself, for something down at his sheet.
His skin breaks out into chill bumps at the sight of his hand.
There's a card in between his fingers. He didn't even feel it there.
It's colored cream with bruja stamped bold in the middle.
He feels like throwing up.
He wants to leave it on the bed and never step foot into his room again. He wants to flush it down the toilet. He wants to shred it into impeccable pieces. He wants to burn it.
But instead, he flips it over.
You had fainted.
Please do not ask me how I brought you to your home when you visit me again.
And it is not Saturday anymore.
Fernando remembers his voice, still. The deep utter of thunder under the night sky. His curling actions and lips and the glow off his hair that gave warmth to his caramel complexion.
He remembers how he felt before him. How hard is heart was pumping behind his chest. A feeling he never felt by just standing. And most of all, the zeros over the witch's head.
Fernando touches face. His cheeks are burning.
It's a fever, that he couldn't care less about.
He wants to go back. He's infuriated and he doesn't know why, and he has to retrain himself from crumbling the card.
He knows he shouldn't go, but there's something inside of him that's immense and out of control, without a care or a thought. It's growing, and Fernando finds himself driven by it.
He pulls his sweater off his sickly body, and slips into something dry. His entire being feels like dead weight, but he's moving on impulse, putting on whatever shoes are scattered by the front door - big bulk boots he got last winter.
He's walking fast and it's kinda hard to breathe, but something is finally revealing itself from his soul, and he doesn't care if it gets harder.
%
He's in slight relief that the house is still there, dusky and eerie under the trees. Everything is still the way he first saw it.
The bells chime behind him as he takes the steps even slower than before, because of his boots. They manage to creak and shudder heavier despite his efforts.
When he opens the door, he's greeted by the heat and dust again. His nose burns this time.
There'slight coming from under the sliding door. Not from sunlight, because it's cloudy today, but dim like a low watt light bulb.
He isn't hesitant when he slides it open, and not even startled by the loveseat facing him, nor La bruja laying across it, robe barely covering enough skin as his feet dangle off the armrest, pipe hanging from his mouth leaving his view smokey as the damp light vibes from a silver lamp off to the side.
His eyes are only on Fernando's.
Smoke blows from his nostrils, and a feline smirk curls from his lips. "You're sick." he confirms.
Fernando doesn't choke up on his sense of hyper awareness. He refuses to, even as it feels like his fever grows stronger off his words, making his lips tingle of numb. "What do you want from me?"
"I want nothing from you, but you want something from me." The smoker corrects him, emphasizing each time by patting his hand on his half covered chest.
Fernando frowns, full of exhaustion. "I came here yesterday, trying to get to the market on a faster foot. But I bumped into your..shop by pure
accident. And if I disturbed your peace in any kind of way, I am truly sorry. But that doesn't mean you-you try to entertain yourself, pulling fake gypsy magic on someone who's obviously fucked up, and take them back to their place after they faint and leave them with this fucked up card,-"
He throws the card and it flutters in the air. The witch stays settled and unalarmed. His eyes are set low and stuck onto Fernando's.
Fernando doesn't lose track, but he continues on a weaker note. "I know you're alone out here in the woods, but this isn't entertainment and it's not how you get any. So please just, ..stop-"
"Stop what?" The man says. "I've just begun, Fernando."
"S-Stop using my name-"
"You asked for my help, Fernando. I'm only doing my job."
"I never asked you for anything!" Fernando splutters in rage.
The man smiles broadly, "Do you remember what I told you to do before you blacked out?"
Fernando stammers on voiceless words as the zeros flash in his head. His anger falters, and he looks away, still feeling the man's eyes bore into him.
"That and the confession itself was the wish you brought onto me. Now I must simply grant it."
Fernando draws his eyes on him. "I told you about what I saw, but I never said I wanted it to go away." He takes a deep breath before he repeats, slight of questioning himself, "..I never said that."
The witch's brow rises, comically almost. "Do you not want it to go away?"
Fernando feels his fever grow to his core, and thousands of thoughts swim in a headache. He knows the answer, and he's sure the inhuman knows as well, but it's wonder and trust that's holding him back. And in this state of his, he can't even think properly about it.
He's practically handing his life over to someone, someone who's supposedly a witch at that. With no clue if he's going insane or not.
"I've always wanted it to go away, but.." He trails off, giving most of his weight against the door frame. Suddenly he's aware again of his
situation. He has no clue what he's doing, anymore.
The witch's slacken voice breaks through, "Don't ever prevent what you feel from aspiring."
Fernando begins to look at him, without the walls of suspicion, but with hope that he's never had before.
"You want the ability to see when a person perishes.. to vanish from your sight." The witch notes. "Do you not?"
Fernando's heart flops around in his chest. He can feel it do this for a moment, but then it goes away, and all the care he's ever given these last few days escape his body in one blow.
"I do."
The man, bruja, places his feet onto the floor. Sitting up properly with the pipe behind his ear. He looks at Fernando in a different lighting than before - not a trace of golden behind in his eyes - as a satisfied smile takes form of his face..
"Wonderful." ..wicked, almost.
It takes a while for Fernando's vision to focus. His eyes are heavy, and the first thing he picks up is a window. Birds chirping and sitting on a tree branch, picking at the leafs.
It's his window, and the same birds as every morning.
He gazes at them for a while, and eventually scenes and emotions come rushing into him; feline characteristics and golden eyes.
He tells himself it was all a dream. That his subconscious was being creative with him, like it never had before.
He sits up and rubs his face, before noticing he's in sweatpants and a sweater. The ones he dreamt about.
His heart flutters, but he recovers, and sets on starting his day and actually getting chores done. But he stops himself, for something down at his sheet.
His skin breaks out into chill bumps at the sight of his hand.
There's a card in between his fingers. He didn't even feel it there.
It's colored cream with bruja stamped bold in the middle.
He feels like throwing up.
He wants to leave it on the bed and never step foot into his room again. He wants to flush it down the toilet. He wants to shred it into impeccable pieces. He wants to burn it.
But instead, he flips it over.
You had fainted.
Please do not ask me how I brought you to your home when you visit me again.
And it is not Saturday anymore.
Fernando remembers his voice, still. The deep utter of thunder under the night sky. His curling actions and lips and the glow off his hair that gave warmth to his caramel complexion.
He remembers how he felt before him. How hard is heart was pumping behind his chest. A feeling he never felt by just standing. And most of all, the zeros over the witch's head.
Fernando touches face. His cheeks are burning.
It's a fever, that he couldn't care less about.
He wants to go back. He's infuriated and he doesn't know why, and he has to retrain himself from crumbling the card.
He knows he shouldn't go, but there's something inside of him that's immense and out of control, without a care or a thought. It's growing, and Fernando finds himself driven by it.
He pulls his sweater off his sickly body, and slips into something dry. His entire being feels like dead weight, but he's moving on impulse, putting on whatever shoes are scattered by the front door - big bulk boots he got last winter.
He's walking fast and it's kinda hard to breathe, but something is finally revealing itself from his soul, and he doesn't care if it gets harder.
%
He's in slight relief that the house is still there, dusky and eerie under the trees. Everything is still the way he first saw it.
The bells chime behind him as he takes the steps even slower than before, because of his boots. They manage to creak and shudder heavier despite his efforts.
When he opens the door, he's greeted by the heat and dust again. His nose burns this time.
There'slight coming from under the sliding door. Not from sunlight, because it's cloudy today, but dim like a low watt light bulb.
He isn't hesitant when he slides it open, and not even startled by the loveseat facing him, nor La bruja laying across it, robe barely covering enough skin as his feet dangle off the armrest, pipe hanging from his mouth leaving his view smokey as the damp light vibes from a silver lamp off to the side.
His eyes are only on Fernando's.
Smoke blows from his nostrils, and a feline smirk curls from his lips. "You're sick." he confirms.
Fernando doesn't choke up on his sense of hyper awareness. He refuses to, even as it feels like his fever grows stronger off his words, making his lips tingle of numb. "What do you want from me?"
"I want nothing from you, but you want something from me." The smoker corrects him, emphasizing each time by patting his hand on his half covered chest.
Fernando frowns, full of exhaustion. "I came here yesterday, trying to get to the market on a faster foot. But I bumped into your..shop by pure
accident. And if I disturbed your peace in any kind of way, I am truly sorry. But that doesn't mean you-you try to entertain yourself, pulling fake gypsy magic on someone who's obviously fucked up, and take them back to their place after they faint and leave them with this fucked up card,-"
He throws the card and it flutters in the air. The witch stays settled and unalarmed. His eyes are set low and stuck onto Fernando's.
Fernando doesn't lose track, but he continues on a weaker note. "I know you're alone out here in the woods, but this isn't entertainment and it's not how you get any. So please just, ..stop-"
"Stop what?" The man says. "I've just begun, Fernando."
"S-Stop using my name-"
"You asked for my help, Fernando. I'm only doing my job."
"I never asked you for anything!" Fernando splutters in rage.
The man smiles broadly, "Do you remember what I told you to do before you blacked out?"
Fernando stammers on voiceless words as the zeros flash in his head. His anger falters, and he looks away, still feeling the man's eyes bore into him.
"That and the confession itself was the wish you brought onto me. Now I must simply grant it."
Fernando draws his eyes on him. "I told you about what I saw, but I never said I wanted it to go away." He takes a deep breath before he repeats, slight of questioning himself, "..I never said that."
The witch's brow rises, comically almost. "Do you not want it to go away?"
Fernando feels his fever grow to his core, and thousands of thoughts swim in a headache. He knows the answer, and he's sure the inhuman knows as well, but it's wonder and trust that's holding him back. And in this state of his, he can't even think properly about it.
He's practically handing his life over to someone, someone who's supposedly a witch at that. With no clue if he's going insane or not.
"I've always wanted it to go away, but.." He trails off, giving most of his weight against the door frame. Suddenly he's aware again of his
situation. He has no clue what he's doing, anymore.
The witch's slacken voice breaks through, "Don't ever prevent what you feel from aspiring."
Fernando begins to look at him, without the walls of suspicion, but with hope that he's never had before.
"You want the ability to see when a person perishes.. to vanish from your sight." The witch notes. "Do you not?"
Fernando's heart flops around in his chest. He can feel it do this for a moment, but then it goes away, and all the care he's ever given these last few days escape his body in one blow.
"I do."
The man, bruja, places his feet onto the floor. Sitting up properly with the pipe behind his ear. He looks at Fernando in a different lighting than before - not a trace of golden behind in his eyes - as a satisfied smile takes form of his face..
"Wonderful." ..wicked, almost.