— 𝐎 ’ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 ⋆｡°✧

𝑭͟𝒐͟𝒓͟ ͟𝒕͟𝒉͟𝒐͟𝒔͟𝒆͟ ͟𝒘͟𝒉͟𝒐͟ ͟𝒄͟𝒐͟𝒎͟𝒆͟ ͟𝒂͟𝒇͟𝒕͟𝒆͟𝒓͟.͟

﹠﹠ “𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴﹐ 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩﹐ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵. . . ”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ &&͟ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝙖𝙨 ⠀⠀ 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 ⠀⠀ 𝙖𝙨 ⠀⠀ 𝙤𝙣𝙚 ⠀⠀ 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 ⠀⠀ 𝙪𝙥 , ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 ⠀⠀ 𝒘𝒂𝒓 ⠀⠀ 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 ⠀⠀ 𝒏𝒐𝒕 ⠀⠀ 𝒆𝒏𝒅 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

i only know that i feel tired， antiqued; i feel as though i have been living a long， long time.

She flits like a butterfly into the kitchen to grab the bottle, returning in a flurry. "Brace yourself.." She hates to do this but she's quick to douse the wound with alcohol, hands going to her shoulders to help her handle the sting she must be feeling. +

Hums. —Yeah, but you already know what I'm struggling with so it's almost the same. As I said, it doesn't matter. I can't do anything to change that—

"Not one for subterfuge, are you?" He teases. "If there were rapid cultists waiting for us down there, that little trick of yours would have announced us as if we were wearing bells and whistles." He released a playful scoff, pretending as if he's bothered by her approach -