[ there had been a reason that it still hid behind the face of a boy, but now that an answer has been snared, it begins to show itself: from the reflection of falco and all the melting the image had done, it darkens into a mass of black and purple, no eyes but countless eyes, did it have tentacles or did it simply ooze the ugly muck that falco would sweat? the human mind can’t fathom an image, can’t put the real thing together— but staring at it would make one’s eyes burn, one feel like they could be at home, and one scream indefinitely with a horror that wore a sheep’s mask. ]
Trench!
[ ᴛⷮrͬeͤncͨhͪ. like too many whispers and too many screams. the silence yells back like a child throwing a tantrum, irritable about not being given what it wanted, how it was peter and luna’s and plenty other’s support that would lead its vessel astray from another breach. it wasn’t support. it was fault.
anger rushes through falco’s own feelings, one’s that weren’t his, and he hurls the mirror into the wall opposite of them. it shatters into a tremendous amount of pieces, leaves them without a reflection (which may be good) but it is also . . . ironically, silent. ]
no subject
Trench!
[ ᴛⷮrͬeͤncͨhͪ. like too many whispers and too many screams. the silence yells back like a child throwing a tantrum, irritable about not being given what it wanted, how it was peter and luna’s and plenty other’s support that would lead its vessel astray from another breach. it wasn’t support. it was fault.
anger rushes through falco’s own feelings, one’s that weren’t his, and he hurls the mirror into the wall opposite of them. it shatters into a tremendous amount of pieces, leaves them without a reflection (which may be good) but it is also . . . ironically, silent. ]