Canvas of Twilight ⡇A Fallacy X Encre book.

𝟖. 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲

StarPoisons.

Callosity, refers to a lack of feeling or emotion in a situation or towards something. It implies being emotionally insensitive or indifferent.

☆

In the midst of Encre's foray into the role of a butler, it had become evident over the past few days that he was far from adept at his newfound profession. The art of cleaning, cooking, and even socializing had proven to be formidable challenges for him. He found solace in the simplicity of folding laundry and collecting garments—his areas of expertise, it seemed.

"Lord" Fallacy, the enigmatic figure who held court as a vampire noble, was notably absent, often engaging in lavish dinners with fellow vampire aristocrats and an exclusive cadre of maids and staff. Amidst his struggles with his duties, Encre's artistic pursuits were also grappling with adversity. His attempts at painting and sketching were stymied by an increasingly vexing problem: a recurring, elusive dream that refused to be captured on canvas.

The dream's enigmatic message echoed in his thoughts: "No one can hear you underwater." Its symbolism was as mystifying as the imagery itself—a shadowy figure hurling him into water, observing his struggle as he succumbed to the depths. This unsettling dream haunted him each night, refusing to fade into obscurity.

...

Upon entering his quarters, Encre was greeted by his newly painted walls. The walls, once barren, were now adorned with a vivid tapestry of paint. Despite the mere span of three days, he had poured his emotions onto the so called large canvas, vividly recreating the landscapes from his dreams. As he grazed his fingers across the paint, absorbing the textures and hues, a knock broke the silence.

Startled by the unexpected interruption, Encre tentatively approached the door and inquired, "Who is it?" A shuffling of footsteps was his only response, an unspoken anxiety lingering in the air. Slowly, he opened the door, revealing an unexpected visitor—a diminutive skeleton holding a single, delicate flower. Encre's nonexistent eyebrow arched in curiosity, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

Uttering a soft, intrigued sound, he invited an explanation from his skeletal guest. Jasper, the skeletal visitor, mirrored a similar aura of mystery to Lord Fallacy. His voice trembled as he began, "I apologize... my words were inadequate the last time we spoke. I endangered you needlessly, even when you were innocent. I just—" Encre's hand extended to accept the flower from Jasper, his voice soothing and understanding, "It's alright. Truly. We share the blame, don't we?"

Encre's laughter rippled through the room, a melodic response to the weight of the situation. Jasper's voice carried a tremor of vulnerability, admitting his own wrongs, "I hurt you..." Encre's smile persisted, his words gentle, "It's alright. Really. I should have reached out to you earlier, lessening your burden of guilt. For that, I too apologize."

Taking a step back, Encre extended an invitation, gesturing to his open door. "Would you like to come in?" Jasper hesitated, declining with a swift shake of his skull. "No! Thank you, but I'm fine. Perhaps, when the sun sets, I could show you something outside?" Encre grappled with his instinct to refuse but, in a moment of vulnerability, he found himself trusting Jasper at an unprecedented speed.

"Maybe," he replied, his voice laced with cautious optimism. A hint of doubt lingered, questioning the rapid growth of his newfound connection with Jasper. "Perhaps I should ensure I've completed my tasks first." Jasper nodded at this reply, his smile infectious as he playfully skipped away, leaving Encre with a soft smile and the forget-me-not in his hand.

Encre's smile remained as he looked down at the flower—a delicate forget-me-not. He twirled it in his bony, milk-colored hand, lost in thought. But his moment of reverie was abruptly interrupted when the flower was gently snatched from his grasp. He gasped, his gaze shifting upward to meet the familiar, velvet voice that never failed to send shivers down his spine.

"Have you painted anything for me, artist?" Lord Fallacy's voice was as commanding as ever, evoking a mix of emotions within Encre. He hesitated briefly before responding, his words stumbling slightly, "Oh, ah... No, not really. It's just that..." Before he could continue, he was cut off by a sigh from Fallacy. It was a sigh that carried the weight of their shared history, a history that seemed to be entwined in complex webs of familiarity and enigma.

"If you want to stay alive, you'd learn to do what you do best," Fallacy's words were tinged with a mix of challenge and reminder. "You've done this for a king, haven't you? As you've described in your journal." The mention of the journal caught Encre off guard. He had been pouring his thoughts into its pages, originally intended for art but occasionally doubling as a vessel for his innermost musings. The realization that Fallacy had glimpsed into his private thoughts left him gasping.

"You sneaked glances at my journal! Have your parents never taught you about privacy?" Encre's words carried a bitter sting as he retorted, feeling a breach of trust. Taking back the flower, he turned away in a show of defiance. Fallacy's laughter cut through the air, an oddly melodic sound that held traces of amusement and intrigue. Leaning closer against the doorway, he loomed over Encre, his presence both imposing and magnetic.

"My walls. You painted them." Fallacy's observation punctured the awkward silence that had enveloped the room. As if on cue, the forget-me-not was placed gently onto Encre's head, a peculiar gesture that was as enigmatic as the vampire himself. Fallacy didn't stop there—his movements carried him into the room, a bold intrusion that grated against Encre's sensibilities.

"Ah, you cannot just enter my quarters without..." Encre's voice trailed off, his irritation palpable as he struggled to regain his composure. Retrieving the flower from his head, he turned to face Fallacy, who was gawking at the painted walls. "Oh. Pardon me if I wasn't aware of such boundaries. I tend to favor larger canvases, and I saw an opportunity," Encre explained with an unexpected hint of vulnerability as if momentarily peeling back the layers of his stoicism.

Quietly accepting the possibility of a bitter retort, Encre braced himself. But instead, Fallacy's voice cut through the air in a gentler tone, "It's lovely." The compliment caught Encre off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless. He wasn't accustomed to receiving such praise from Fallacy, whose demeanor had often been a mixture of biting remarks and distant indifference.

In the ensuing days, if Fallacy caught sight of Encre working, a biting comment would often escape his lips—a comment that was sometimes truthful and amusing, but also occasionally infuriating. "You're lying," Encre retorted, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice as he crossed his arms defensively.

"You dare to call me a liar?" Fallacy's retort was sharp, his tone suddenly serious, and it sent a chill down Encre's spine. He shook his head fervently in reply, his defensiveness tempered by a newfound awareness of the thin ice he tread upon.

There was silence.

"When can I return to my village?"

"Never."

☆

End Chapter.
1212 words.

I'm gonna make my chapters longer again I swear.

💌

StarPoisons