@bardest liked.
cronus a.mpora, you lucky thing -- the livewire in mituna’s head spits sparks and no more. now he is more than a passanger, but he is still no pilot: his psionics are out of his reach, closer than before but too far to command. he pulls his four-wheeled device closer to his chest and narrows his eyes behind the panes of glass in his helmet. he remembers you, cronus, wandering hands and pointed teeth, a melody with no words that hurt his head even when he wasn’t listening. the snapping of boards and wands, splintered wood, a bard crooning a song to an audience of empty chairs -- or maybe he’s lost in fantasy again, the visions he fell into when no one wanted to catch him. ‘FUCKING WADER,’ he sneers, through fangs that grit and grind. ‘NO ONE CAME PA5TT TTHI5 WAY, 5O YOU BETTTTER PADDLE OFF 5OMEPLACE EL5E.’
