the whiteout.

they should've known, should've seen the omens ﹔ that nothing you touch comes back whole, that a child so adept at killing brings only corpses to the dinner table.

we are a squad of ghosts ﹔ a fantôme escouade forsaken by god and fallen from grace. we shall continue to march through tainted blood until our true enemy brings us salvation.

You should’ve known it would have ended like this. You are nothing short of a beast and i am a butcher. I am going to feast on you.

weapons need not know peace. at least a tool finds comfort in being used ﹔ at least agony is as accustomed to as a second—skin. these hands are better suited to take lives than take softness. they wouldn't know how to be kind.

blasphemy? before what? god? a god repulsed by the miserable humanity he created in his own image? i will not be shackled by the failures of your god.

He’s her butcher, cruel and promises only vile obsession. She will forgive him, tooth by tooth, tasteful ceremony in her forage for his gore——meaning in exposed muscles, slaughtered by savage teeth.

this world was not made for us.

suddenly ᅟ , ᅟall ᅟmy * ANCESTORS ᅟ are ᅟ behind ᅟme . ᅟ beᅟ s͟t͟i͟l͟l , ᅟthey ᅟ say ᅟ —— ᅟ WATCH ᅟ 𖬺̲ ᅟ LISTEN ᅟ/ ᅟyou ᅟ are ᅟ theᅟ result ᅟ of ᅟ the ᅟ * LOVE ᅟ of ᅟ thousands .