every hour, on the hour, they drew blood

RIGBY

Flowerbirth had been very interesting so far, with impromptu voyages across swamps and plains and scorched grounds, only to come back to Torchline. This place he knew, this place he felt comfortable. He had no plans of leaving again anytime soon, the Oerwoud left alone until further notice, an explanation from someone who cared a fuck of a lot more than he did.

And so he found himself loitering underneath the lighthouse, leaned up against it in the dark of night. Spitefully he finished a cigarette and smeared the ash across the pale stone of the monument, a little desecration here and there.

i'll make you understand
and you can trade me for an apparition