Azrael
i wouldn't know where to start
'sweet music' playing 'in the dark'
'sweet music' playing 'in the dark'
“Perhaps Samuel might be willing to help with that?” They suggest, flashing a bright smile toward their father when it came to cataloguing their trip. A story that Sam might help them keep around, to tell their friends once they started to make them. A story of trials and adventure, though they imagine those they find will have had similar events. As for the rest of it, though, Azrael can’t keep the thought from their mind, of having something tangible rather than their own memory to go off of.
The pencil wrap is a wonderful thing that distracts them momentarily, a chimed thank you of excitement leaves their lips and dances over their features as they move to stuff it away. But their father departs, and they sit idly in wait to see what it is he brings back for them. It’s a simple blue bag to be tied around one’s back, something that they can’t help but beam at as well.
Of course, it doesn’t last – their smile turning more somber, more emotional as the following gift is given to them – a gold necklace with gems that sparkled vibrantly in the light overhead. Their gaze lifts from the hand the necklace sits in to peer at their father, emotions swimming in their gaze that they aren’t too sure what to do with. “Thank you, Papa.” Their voice is softer now, a whisper as they reach up to pick up the necklace, to clasp it around their neck, before their gaze begins to swim a fraction with the fluid of tears. “How does it look?”
The pencil wrap is a wonderful thing that distracts them momentarily, a chimed thank you of excitement leaves their lips and dances over their features as they move to stuff it away. But their father departs, and they sit idly in wait to see what it is he brings back for them. It’s a simple blue bag to be tied around one’s back, something that they can’t help but beam at as well.
Of course, it doesn’t last – their smile turning more somber, more emotional as the following gift is given to them – a gold necklace with gems that sparkled vibrantly in the light overhead. Their gaze lifts from the hand the necklace sits in to peer at their father, emotions swimming in their gaze that they aren’t too sure what to do with. “Thank you, Papa.” Their voice is softer now, a whisper as they reach up to pick up the necklace, to clasp it around their neck, before their gaze begins to swim a fraction with the fluid of tears. “How does it look?”
be still 'my foolish heart'
don't ruin this on me
don't ruin this on me
