[ Skin too tight over a frame too heavy, the disturbing sensation of burrowing beneath his muscles and tendons — is this how cyberpsychosis starts? What have you done to yourself asks an atrophied sense of self-preservation, vaguely familiar and all the scarier and louder for it, ready to pull him under as soon as Vincent lets down his guard. It'd be so easy to sink into that bubbling tar pit of despair and loathing, let the chips fall where they may.
But Vincent can't. There's another voice, formerly-disembodied-but-now-blessedly-solid, anchoring him to this plane of existence as readily as his arms around his waist.
You did this to yourself! For him!
... y-yeah, you fuckin' idiot, that was the idea.
Anythin' to keep him safe. ] O-okay. [ That nickname brings Vincent back from the brink, forces back his focus. His mother only used it when the stakes were high, when she had something important to say. The opposite of over-enunciating every single legal entry — Vicente Alejandro Tanaka Fernández — whenever he was in trouble. ] Can we go take a siesta? I'm fuckin' beat.
CW: Body Horror
But Vincent can't. There's another voice, formerly-disembodied-but-now-blessedly-solid, anchoring him to this plane of existence as readily as his arms around his waist.
You did this to yourself! For him!
... y-yeah, you fuckin' idiot, that was the idea.
Anythin' to keep him safe. ] O-okay. [ That nickname brings Vincent back from the brink, forces back his focus. His mother only used it when the stakes were high, when she had something important to say. The opposite of over-enunciating every single legal entry — Vicente Alejandro Tanaka Fernández — whenever he was in trouble. ] Can we go take a siesta? I'm fuckin' beat.