hallowing: (Default)
ᴄʏʀᴀᴍ ﹙🇴​ɥɔɐʎʌ ᴉɔ ǝ🇱​ɥ🇳​ɐ﹚ ([personal profile] hallowing) wrote in [community profile] ximilia 2023-10-03 01:53 am (UTC)

and so, some time later — freshly laundered enough that it almost seems intentional — he meanders into the kitchen.

no tux, but he clearly made an effort, because someone found the world's worst t-shirt in a pile and is wearing it with a pair of nice slacks that he may or may not have arrived in. he comes into the kitchen with a slouch that seems embedded into his DNA, cutting a couple inches off the height he'd have if he ever deigned to straighten up properly.

but what is less obvious, perhaps, to the casual observer, is the way that there's an energy that seems to almost drip off of him. invisible except to those who know what they're looking for, it's an eldritch thing — gunsmoke and blood trailing in his wake. it's something ancient, bleak and dark and leashed so tightly it's hard to tell the way it settles in the room and stutters between heartbeats, but it's present.

— and entirely at odds with the cheerful smile he gives her as he pretends to roll up cuffed sleeves he absolutely does not have.


All right, go on and put me to work. I make no promises about my skill.

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