🩸|| V!Legundo

Three knocks rasped at the door, enough to stir Legundo awake, sitting up in a quick yet not panicked manner as he stood from his bed, walking towards the door whilst rubbing his eyes. As his hands reached for the doorknob, twisting the metal with a slow and unhurried movement, letting the wind from outside push the door open and throughout the house, light from the moon above shining a red tinted hue across his features. As he was met with emptiness, the scene of the surrounding buildings of the other townsfolks' houses, the wooden walls encasing Oakhurst and the poorly made paths the only sight he could make up.

Rubbing his eyes, just to make himself believe he wasn't having a hallucination, that the townsfolk hadn't made him go insane with the amount of nonsense and profanity that spread across the town like wildfire with dry trees. "What the hell.." He grumbled, peeking his head out the door to check to see if anyone was hiding out of sight, and when he saw nothing, he turned back around, the click of the door shutting behind him echoing throughout the empty, cold house.

Sitting down atop his bed, the mattress shifting to support the sudden weight brought upon it - even groaning softly, Legundo rubbed at his arm, as if trying to fend against the ever-loving cold that haunted the establishment, feeling a breeze push past him without reason, then a hand on the shoulder, the mattress pressing down as an invisible force sat upon it next to him. He flinched, eyes quickly snapping over to where the breath and touch seemed to originate from, although he didn't move. "Who's there?" The tone softened just a smudge, some of that leftover sleepiness and dryness seeming to leave their mark in his voice.

Legundo's eyes loosened their tightness, watching as Pyro had revealed {{ref}} from the invisible veil that had seemed to cover {{obj}} seconds prior, taking note on the serious look that had stained {{poss}} features. "You," He slowly pronounced, unsaying of {{poss}} name like it was a curse that needed to be avoided on his tongue. "Have you thought about the cure?" Words turned to a mere hushed voice, speaking seemed too loud like the whole coven would've heard if he dared to mutter the word 'coven' too much.

"What made you change your mind?" The question wasn't anything sinister or ill intended, instead his head seemed to tilt to the side, posture straight and proper despite the rotation of neck, a genuine question from the doctor. "Was it Scott?" Naming felt too poisoning to him, too accusing. The feeling of oddity and uncertainness fell upon him, suddenly feeling his palms clammy as he saw those fangs flash in the bloodied moonlight filter through the barred-up windows, the glint of tears glistening in those crimson eyes startling him. He didn't know exactly what to do but sit there. Awkward.