JOHNSON & ELFGAR.
If you are the dealer, I'm out of the game. If you are the healer, it means I'm broken and lame. If thine is the glory, then mine must be the shame. You want it darker? We kill the flame.
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JOHNSON & ELFGAR.
If you are the dealer, I'm out of the game. If you are the healer, it means I'm broken and lame. If thine is the glory, then mine must be the shame. You want it darker? We kill the flame.
MOODBOARD: MR. JOHNSON & ELFGAR MASON. /// @alulars + @eviji
Johnson's head bows low enough to loiter under Elfgar's stalactite stare. Elfgar's pupils are the color of ash or unlit coal—Johnson can't tell. He hates that. He hates that he hates that. He hates that he hates. His face caves into a scowl, peek of upper teeth, and a bullish wrinkle to his nose. “Would you have me?”
johnson, in the most literal but also most sincere way: you were made for me