Vessel X Reader/OC (Sleep token)

Chapter 9

TW - (Self harm - not due to depression but thought I should mention xo)

I wake up once I feel movement, and notice it's Vessel putting his jacket on, and pulling his hood up.

He looks down at me, and there is little to no expression in his face. Jesus, it's like split personalities.
"I didn't mean to wake you."

I sit up and smile faintly at him.
"It's okay, I should get up anyway."

"You should. Come with me." He says, and I follow him outside. It's early morning, but no one is around yet. Vessel assembles the firepit, and I give him a hand, and light it with a match.

He nods gratefully, and stands opposite me, and looks down at me.

He holds his hand out to me, and I instinctively give him mine, though I'm a little confused.

He looked a little upset, but tries to hide it.
"Iris, the rules I set for you were not made by me, but by something much bigger than myself. You chose to ignore them despite education, and warning, and for that, you have to be punished."

I raise my eyebrow at him.
"Great. Are you finally going to murder me?" I ask, half joking, half paranoid.

"I'm a Vessel, Iris. I don't do anything. I do as I'm told. And you should, too."

He pulls out a knife, and I tense up, but he grips me hand tighter so that I can't move anywhere.

"Wait, seriously?" I snap at him, and he stares back at me blankly.

"Keep still." He orders, and I'm confused. Is he actually...

He slices the knife across the palm of my hand, and holds my hand over the fire, letting it drip into it.
I wince, and yank my hand away, in a hell of a lot of pain.

He quickly bandages it up, and sighs.

"And," he continues. "I knew the rules, and didn't punish you. Should you cause more trouble, I won't make the same mistake."

He quickly cuts his own palm, and I flinch. He doesn't even move a muscle on his face, just expressionlessly lets his blood drip into the fire.

I try and grab bandages for him too, to stop the bleeding, which was a lot heavier than mine was. He puts his free hand up to stop me, and lowers his wounded hand into the flame.

Again, he doesn't move an inch, but I squeeze my eyes shut, completely horrified. The flames cauterise his wound, and the bleeding stops.

The burns on his hand weren't as bad as I was expecting, but they weren't great, either.

"Are you going to set me on fire, too?" I ask, jokingly, despite being really shaken up.

"I can if you'd like." He responds, and as my face falls, he smiles.

"Do you... Like... Not feel pain, or something?" I ask, nodding at his burnt hand.

He lifts his hand up and looks at it, and back at me.
"Of course I do." He says, quietly. "I was just being respectful."

"I feel a bit bad." I mumble, quietly.

"Don't. I knew you were going to run off, I should've stopped you."

He washes his hands in a lake nearby, and holds his burnt hand underwater for a few seconds.
"I thought some Christians were crazy. But this is next level." I say, with a sigh, sitting down.

He turns to look at me, and cocks his head, in confusion.

"You think I'm crazy?"

"I don't think you're crazy, Vessel. I know that you are."

"Why would that be?" He questions, drying his hands off.

"You hurt yourself, and others, and devote your whole life to a god that probably doesn't exist."

"I am out of my mind. You're right. But, it has nothing to do with my faith. How can you deny my god exists? You've met him."

I bite my lip, confused, and pretty anxious. Met him?

"He took my form in your dream. That was a warning, to not upset him further, or the consequences would be worse than a scratch. But a knife through your throat, be it physically, or metaphorically. I'm not sure."

I suddenly feel sick. What?

How the hell would he know what I dreamt about?

Please just be a psychic lunatic. Tell me I'm not actually being held hostage by some pagan God.

He laughs, lowly.
"You've gone white as snow."

"It's not funny." I snap at him, and he smiles faintly.

"Sorry. It's nice to see your tough girl persona wither once in a while."

"I think I'm going to be sick." I say, slightly breathless.

He suddenly looks as if he feels guilty, and he sits beside me.

I take deep breaths, and once I'm calm, hang my head slightly.
"I want to go home."

He nods once, while looking at me with a fairly blank face.
"I know."

"Why won't you talk about when I can leave?" I ask him, and he, himself, goes pale.

He gets up, puts his hand on my shoulder.
"Make sure you get some breakfast. I never see you eat." He says, and leaves.