#angeldored+chenille.
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𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚡. you had lost count of how many times the cannon sounded, how many bodies had to be lifted; returned to mourning districts whilst spilled blood turns soil to rot. you think about how easy it could be to get lost in these woods, how the trees span acres with no reprieve, no room for your nagging thoughts to grow into something more monstrous. [as a child, you listened to and recounted ghost stories, about a great weight baring down on existence, a man turned wolf sulking through the abyss. they have never felt more real, except you are beginning to worry he had worn your face all along] she was never meant to be here, a life set out for someone else instead bestowed to her for the sins of blood. it was cruel, to send her here, knowing her inescapable fate; even crueller that she was to be paired with you— there is no easy way out, it’s a selfish thought that flashes over your eyes that you hope she dies before you have to lift the blade, or how much easier it would be if you could let your grip loosen, let her take the victory and absolve you of a future.
▍ ▫ ✉️ ─ @angeldored : i don't want to be here anymore.
hushed voices, as if every move wasn’t being tracked, broadcast for prying eyes who ever never quite satiated with the brutalism displayed on screen. it had been easy to follow mentor’s asks, play it up, let them think you care beyond trivial loyalties. she knew you before you even knew yourself, it was natural to let your body wrap around the back of her frame; closeness providing heat that the fire lacks. “you can’t– you can’t think like that.” still, it’s quiet in the night, you never realised how much speech carries when there is nothing to be heard. ignorant to the sharp pain from twigs digging into flesh, there is little else on your mind but to pry into hers. “we’re.. you’re going home. soon.” speech is pressured, you don’t realise that you’re lying. “we just need to finish this.”
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