"maybe we can head to the apocalypse again as a little vacation. you know what they say... paradise!"
"i cannot express to you how little i would like to do that."
"stingy fucker."
IN WHICH vincent leblanc, resident french asshole and externally...
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VINCENT COULD RECOUNT THE EXACT MOMENT HIS LIFE ALTERED. When Vincent, at the age of seven, decided playing tag with his neighbor- a five year old girl named Lydia who, in truth, did not like him much- would be a grand idea.
He'd walked over to her home, knocked on the door too hard and was met with the gaze of Lydia's mother, giving him a cold glare that reminded him all too much of his own mother. But alas, at seven years old, Vincent did not know any better. He'd explained that he wanted to meet the woman's daughter. He had been desperate for friends. His mother had been continuously mentioning how he had none and how that was terribly sad.
He didn't want to seem terribly sad.
The woman had hesitantly agreed after a while of Vincent's rambling, and Vincent wouldn't lie and say he hadn't been excited. He had never really, truly had a friend before at that point.
He had met Lydia in the backyard, a little blond girl with her hair in pigtails. She was kind to him, understood why he wanted friends so much. She had, admittedly, been a good person.
Right up until they played tag, when it all turned to shit. Vincent had ran after her, attempting to tag the girl but instead falling right on top of her. He remembered her crying, remembered her looking up at him and her eyes widening, her scream and the way she scrambled out from underneath him.
He remembered when he looked down at his hands and they were paler than usual, smaller. When he looked down at his shoes and instead of a pair of sneakers he saw a pair of Lottie III's, the exact same shoes Lydia had been wearing. When he looked over his body and realized he was considerably smaller than before. When he realized he was wearing exactly what Lydia had been wearing.
He had been dumbfounded, standing there with eyes just as wide as the girl across from him. Her mom had ran out quickly, and looked utterly terrified at the sight of her daughter practically multiplied. In all honesty, Vincent thought it would have been hilarious if not so traumatizing.
His parents had been called over and that had been the first time he had ever seen them express any emotion other than anger. When for the first time around Vincent, they'd been scared. But not scared for their son, no. Scared by the fact that he was a fucking freak like the rest of them.
He remembered when his mother grabbed him and he'd accidentally transformed into her as well, the way she clenched her teeth at the sight and turned around, both her and Vincent's father pulling him much too roughly back home.
