UNDER YOUR SKIN ☆ o, rumors

Routine.

Or possibly the ingrained action of unconscious muscle memory. Little the worth behind placing  title about occurrence grown common enough sought had it become, enough simply to have it for that brief moment. Breath unknowingly held escaped between teeth tightly closed, further reassurance directed to Medusa a quiet din, lost as indulged the weight about back. Unbidden the heat prickling along lower lids, encased the back of eyes tightly closed, aggravated the light pulse behind temples.

"Starclan fault." Unknown the response that may be garnered from statement, one voiced without thought, blame shifted on that he might never understand.

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I think I’m not quite ready to let you circle the drain. all the things we’ve broken can be puzzled together again, all your sums and your pieces are enough to clean up all the messes you’ve made

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code by Wisker