I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice; Imagine being loved by me.
"Yeah. Sorry..." Fox at least manages a wince at that, knowing his own dour mood (and sleepless nights, and raw food diet) are absolutely not the best way to deal with something that's altogether inevitable. He'll work through it properly one day, he promises.
Not today though, apparently.
Nevertheless, it's with a resigned sigh that he accepts Kiada's coaxing, shrugging into his coat and drawing the hood up, ready to head out into the increasing downpour to find something that will help him to feel better.
Only it appears that, not one single step out the door, and something is already out to fuck him off even more. "What the fuck--" Fox blurts as they sink into the quicksand moss. One of his hands is still braced against the doorframe, allowing him to use it as leverage to yank his leg free, but he's none too fucking pleased about it.
"Are you fucking kidding," he growls, shaking out his leg and reaching to the side of the door for a shovel he's propped against the outside of the building. Even as the rain begins to drum on the back of his coat, he's shovelling up the patch of moss and promptly YEETing it away from their immediate path.
Not today though, apparently.
Nevertheless, it's with a resigned sigh that he accepts Kiada's coaxing, shrugging into his coat and drawing the hood up, ready to head out into the increasing downpour to find something that will help him to feel better.
Only it appears that, not one single step out the door, and something is already out to fuck him off even more. "What the fuck--" Fox blurts as they sink into the quicksand moss. One of his hands is still braced against the doorframe, allowing him to use it as leverage to yank his leg free, but he's none too fucking pleased about it.
"Are you fucking kidding," he growls, shaking out his leg and reaching to the side of the door for a shovel he's propped against the outside of the building. Even as the rain begins to drum on the back of his coat, he's shovelling up the patch of moss and promptly YEETing it away from their immediate path.
Fox Sinclair
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
