i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck
Having spent a rather informative few days at the House of Midnight, Everest had flown La Verbena to the Hollowed Grounds. That Isla was an Ancient and that the Grounds seemed to house the majority of her race was only a tangential consideration for the aviator. Given his appreciation and thirst for knowledge, if there were nuances to be gleaned from the Dusklight, he was happy to go in search of them.
So, unlike the majority of the clientele who stepped through the unassuming doors, Everest entered with a suitcase in hand and with on particular desires or preferences on his mind. Largely, that was still the problem he was sorting out: in a world with so many options, the aviator had no idea still what he really liked.
The transition from sunlight to organic red had the attuned blinking something as he let the door close softly behind him. Having no better idea what he liked to drink than how he liked to be fucked, Everest went to the bar and ordered himself a whiskey, shrugging when he was asked on the rocks?, before waiting for someone to come along and claim him for the evening.
That was how it worked, right?
So, unlike the majority of the clientele who stepped through the unassuming doors, Everest entered with a suitcase in hand and with on particular desires or preferences on his mind. Largely, that was still the problem he was sorting out: in a world with so many options, the aviator had no idea still what he really liked.
The transition from sunlight to organic red had the attuned blinking something as he let the door close softly behind him. Having no better idea what he liked to drink than how he liked to be fucked, Everest went to the bar and ordered himself a whiskey, shrugging when he was asked on the rocks?, before waiting for someone to come along and claim him for the evening.
That was how it worked, right?
.
