it was hot — why was it hot? he hadn’t left the heat on before he left, so again, why was it so hot in here? shrugging off his cardigan, he tossed it aside, making his way up the stairs. the heat grew worse the further he went, which began to irritate him.
the heat wasn’t on. was he hallucinating? it felt like it. no, he was.
reaching the top of his stairs, he headed down the hall and to his room. it felt the sun when he opened his door — and it was just as worse once he took a step in.
what he saw before him caused him to stop dead in his tracks, his fists clenching shortly afterwards.
"oh my fucking god, you’re joking.”
"oh my fucking god, you have got to be kidding me — and you’re real. i can feel it. you’re not some illusion made up by frost or rachel, no, you’re real.”
"it’s not even time yet, why the fuck are you here? just go — get out; leave.”
( .::COSMIC GENOCIDE::. ) His tone was expected but none the less welcomed. Children have no manners, especially the elder ones, and had to be taught or else they'd walk the grounds spewing nothing but filth from their pretty little mouths.
Children are truly SOMETHING.
Spectacles to behold and loathed, little things that are
cherished or taken for granted. Quire was the prime
example. Cherished and hated. Because they fear him.
Believe it or not they feared what he was capable of----
if only he knew it himself.
❛ We͏l̕c̀o̸m̕e̕ h̵o͘ḿe,͟ ̢Q̡u͞ir̡e͡. ̴Y̧d͝i͝d ̵yo͘u ̡h̴a͡v̷e ͘f͘un p͘la͞ying͘ ͞with y̷ou͡r̀ l͜i͝ttle̕ f̕riend̛s̀ f҉or ̀the̕ ͠nig͞ht? ̡Or̢ did͘ th̷ȩy͏ ki͟c͡k̢ ýou ҉fr͏om ͟thę cļu͢b҉ hous͘e̵ b͞e͡cause ͝y̵o͜u̷ ̷could͠n't̸ ̕pl͝ay nice.̵ ❜
jacobvanloon
areudirty
2087
snowghoul
stormborns
