[ He snaps his attention up. Something jagged and hot brushes up against his mind—not yet an intrusion, but close. His eyes narrow at once, glinting gold in the faintest light.
Only then does he realize—
Ah, fuck. He draws his hand away. Blood coats his fingers; the nails are sharp at the tips, though not quite fully claws. He huffs. ]
Think that's the least of our concerns.
[ He's given up on binding every wound. Only so many scraps of cloth one can tear off a cloak.
He studies the stranger's face, the scrapes over his wrists earned by everyone dragged to the altar. Then he closes his eyes again. It still feels too damn bright, and he cares little for pretending he doesn't feel like shit. ]
no subject
Only then does he realize—
Ah, fuck. He draws his hand away. Blood coats his fingers; the nails are sharp at the tips, though not quite fully claws. He huffs. ]
Think that's the least of our concerns.
[ He's given up on binding every wound. Only so many scraps of cloth one can tear off a cloak.
He studies the stranger's face, the scrapes over his wrists earned by everyone dragged to the altar. Then he closes his eyes again. It still feels too damn bright, and he cares little for pretending he doesn't feel like shit. ]
If you want company, look elsewhere.