𝗔 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲, the curve of it emaciate and serene like the dead gold of crescent moon. It dilutes like light distended, impossible to read.
“ You've traveled far. Surely you'd like tea, Tsukihiko-san? ” As she asks, she feels a flush. A fever-feeling, as though being warmed by her own blood. The onset of thrill.
@putrefact, s.c.














