𝕳𝖊'𝖘 𝕷𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝕬 𝕳𝖞𝖆𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖍

{ Deuteronomy 29:29 }

No song

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{ "The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law." }
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'I still got zip on E or his family which is absurd. My mother has books on angels, demons, spirits, ghouls, and other things, still, none of them implies anything about their existence or abilities. Besides what the heck is that creature following Vincent around? It can't be anything good. I sense incredibly malicious seeping from it.

Perhaps, I'm analyzing this all wrong. What if I go back into my mother's shop and read something about that humanoid figure? I'll go once I get a signal from her.' The eight-year-old girl mentions her agenda of her three and half years/ongoing stay at the Callaway's Estate.

Y/n's sitting on a black piano bench near the enormous window. Just outside of the window they can see: The mighty ol' sun has fallen asleep earlier than expected with all of the critters such as robins, blackbirds, and thrushes accompanying it to sleep. Albeit the moon has taken over for the next twelve hours, it also invited other creatures like the owls, bats, and other things to these long hours.

The protagonist's nibbling on the tips of her fingernails, her eyes' fixated upon a certain black and white-haired boy stretched out on a black, leather cushioned sofa. She solely examines him up close noticing his abnormal complexion, hair color, and eyes.

His whole existence is bizarre. "I'm affronted." The fourteen-year-old boy blurts out. His mystifying, golden eyes flutter open to meet the inquisitive ones of the younger lassie. Normally, the protagonist would flinch at her abrupt capture from the person, however this time, she's gazing right back at the guy.

No one challenging to break off their eye contact, his face showing apathetic as usual whilst hers blank and observant. "You won't tell me what you are. So I have to conduct my own studies." She explains, pulling her face away. Promptly, the boy lifts his torso upwards, permitting him to sit down appropriately.

"Ye incessantly been doin this from prior years and despite this, ye still huvna (haven't) discovered anythin." He adds on, whipping his head directly in her direction. The girl simply rolls her eyes at the mention of her futile research.

Unconsciously, her footing shifts over to where Vincent is, there's a new opening for her to finally sit down and that is what she does. She plops onto his right side, exactly next to the armrest he had his head settling upon. "You can't say I haven't."

"Oh?... And what is this obscure discovery ye found aboot me and ma family?" His head's leaning forward into the face he challenged recently. His eyes squinting in closer, observing—analyzing the young girl's every feature, her eyes once again never averting, never cowering away from a challenge she's well informed to win.

The girl immediately leans into his face. Her eyes never ceased to bend for anyone especially not for him. Just because he is older than her by a few years doesn't give him a chance to be supercilious. Albeit, the space between them is wearing thin, the unoccupied air is mere inches away from colliding with one another's faces.

"That...The Callaways can possibly be..angels?" Y/n concludes, perceiving the doubtfulness and confusion lingering—clinging to every drop of word. "Yeah...Angels?" She suggests solidifying her theory. Without any hesitation or an attempt to cover his mirthfulness, the boy opens his mouth letting the rhythmical and audible noise within his throat, flow throughout him with ease.

He launches himself backward onto the sofa, his arms wrapping around his abdomen. The same sound continuously echoes throughout the area around them. The girl, on the other hand, is visibly flustered and baffled by his abrupt, jaunty gesture.

"Hey! Why are you laughing for, E?" She queries, her hands currently resting on his torso, shaking him to snatch his attention, however it would take a few minutes to grab his punctilious composure back. Honestly, this is the first time, the girl seen Vincent laugh this much. She always thought he wasn't capable of feeling any sort of amusement.

Eventually, the boy lifts his torso upwards to properly sit up straight. His eyes have a hint of glossiness to them. Automatically, he seizes his pocket handkerchief, dabbing the corner of his eyes with the edges of his handkerchief. "Lassie, ye got me there for a wee bit. Regardless is that what ye truly suspect." The boy questions the inquisitive girl, placing his handkerchief once more in his pocket.

Y/n solely nods her head at his comment, noticing his elocution leisurely returning to him. "Well, ye were practically there, however we are actually th—" On cue, a voice interrupts the boy from behind the kids. Both of them lift their heads to the newcomer. Only to discover, Vincent's mother: Cassia (Cass-ee-a) Callaway.

"Vincent." The older woman firmly intrudes upon their secretive conversation. Her body's a distance away from the dark wooden oak door she just opened. The entrance is still unhinged as the girl peeks behind to notice the inadequately lit hallway. Most of the candles illuminate what it needs to light, just not in the corners.

The mother's staring at the two young people primarily focusing her gaze on her son. Advising him with her expression saying stop talking. Luckily for Cassia, Y/n doesn't catch onto this peculiar reaction to him nearly informing her about their family secret.

The older lady stands in between the sofa the two are sharing and the entrance to the study room. "Dinner's ready and...Vincent, a word with you." His mother announces, perceiving the sternness with a hint of venom in her last part. 'Whatever they need to discuss. I'm just glad, I'm not E.' Y/n instantly dashes past the woman to go to the dining hall.

Now, the only two in the room are the Callaways. The mother's eyes are fixated on the running lassie, she waits for her to hit the corner to transfer her attention onto her offspring. Her eyebrows begin to furrow downwards with her gaze shifting subtly over into dissatisfaction.

Cassia walks over to her son a bit more to whisper, just ascertaining that no one could hear her announcement. "Vincent, you are not allowed to tell that girl." She declares, tugging the boy out of his seat to simply drag him upwards onto his feet.

He groans a tad to solely look into his mother's fuming eyes. "But ye told her ma aboot us. Maybe I can tell her—" His words automatically switch into his eloquent language: Scottish (Gaelic).

"Not everyone will react pleasantly by this infor—" This time he interjects into her saying.

"But I ken—" He attempts to say.

"That's final, Anteros." However, his mother finishes for him by calling him out sternly with his real name.