[ His elbow bends, rigidity tireless, to retrieve a lighter from his coat pocket. He flicks it alive, the meager, pearlescent glow of its flame illuminating little more than curdling blood and taut sinew in equally rigid hands. His chest tightens and the sensation is anything but unmoored. ]
No. I never liked it.
[ And how inexplicable it'd been, how bereft of sense it was, for those feelings to never be in discordance with one another as he'd chosen to feel them. ]
no subject
No. I never liked it.
[ And how inexplicable it'd been, how bereft of sense it was, for those feelings to never be in discordance with one another as he'd chosen to feel them. ]