[ that’s not even close to what yoru thinks of himself: a cold, dead thing needing another’s body to breathe for him. so soaked into the ground that it’s become fertile with his decay, and all around him there’s only one shade of flowers. red and curling and poisonous.
he supposes that does count as a field of flowers. but warm? can he be warm and cold all at once? do… the others see him similarly?
or is this just siffrin’s heart being generous in its bias? ]
Pink, by the way. That’s the color of your cheeks right now.
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[ that’s not even close to what yoru thinks of himself: a cold, dead thing needing another’s body to breathe for him. so soaked into the ground that it’s become fertile with his decay, and all around him there’s only one shade of flowers. red and curling and poisonous.
he supposes that does count as a field of flowers. but warm? can he be warm and cold all at once? do… the others see him similarly?
or is this just siffrin’s heart being generous in its bias? ]
Pink, by the way. That’s the color of your cheeks right now.