PHOEBE
He touched her shoulder and so she looked back at him again, still melancholy and somber. ”I’m glad you got involved.” she said softly. He had made her stronger. He had given her some confidence back (though to be fair a lot of that came crumbling back down the night that Lusea arrived). In many ways, him getting involved in her life had been good for her. It had just ended horribly wrong.
But as he mentioned that no one fought for him, her brows furrowed. She took that as a personal attack, knowing that in the moment she hadn’t fought for him. Though for good reason. ”The second you saw her you forgot I existed, Jata. You didn’t give me a chance to fight for you.” she said, a hint of an edge in her tone.
But as he mentioned that no one fought for him, her brows furrowed. She took that as a personal attack, knowing that in the moment she hadn’t fought for him. Though for good reason. ”The second you saw her you forgot I existed, Jata. You didn’t give me a chance to fight for you.” she said, a hint of an edge in her tone.
When dark creeps in and eats the light
Bury your fears on sorry night
For in the winter's darkest hours
Comes the feasting of the Vours
No one can see it, the life they stole
Your body's here but not your soul
