Don't paint wonderful lies on me that wash away
The tragic thing about returning ghosts to life, was that they sooner or later would remember what it means to bleed. What old lovers and frigthened girls and ill fated strangers in a burning building had failed to manage, Harper accomplished in mere minutes. A little compassion, some insight into a soul as broken as hers, and she might as well have popped a vein, to see that bitter smile.
Ah, fuck. She never meant to care for this boy.
"Mh. And what choice was it, that drove you out all the way here? In this lovely weather."
Cocking her head aside, Maea let him keep her hand for now. She wished the connection meant more than it did. That she had a heart capable of speeding up, of racing along like it once might have done. Something slippery and dark slurped down into the ground near their feet, but she had no reason to look that way.
Soul searching was so much more interesting, right now.
Ah, fuck. She never meant to care for this boy.
"Mh. And what choice was it, that drove you out all the way here? In this lovely weather."
Cocking her head aside, Maea let him keep her hand for now. She wished the connection meant more than it did. That she had a heart capable of speeding up, of racing along like it once might have done. Something slippery and dark slurped down into the ground near their feet, but she had no reason to look that way.
Soul searching was so much more interesting, right now.
