ALL SIN IS SEEN EQUAL; & God doesn’t cater to thieves, no matter how holy or how many times he’s humbly stood between the benches in front of an altar or how many confessions he’s attended to [ He might have even grown tired of it, the bright eyed boy walking in, BURNING — ( he always is ), to a whitewashed chapel, effulgent between the fingers of morning light arriving from the stained glass windows ] & the protection the rosary compressed between something only akin to nylon at TOUCH & his chest extends only so far in its reaches. that’s to say his luck, divinely given or coincidence, has boiled against the palms of his hands & left their skin a vibrant red.
at the sight of her, his eyes are all sclera; wide & impish, a vowel situated between his lips holding them agape. for a moment, there’s only the sound of a mechanical hum vibrating beneath their feet, like low - octave tinsel merging with static as sounds several hallways down slip beneath the door & dominate it. ❛ any chance i can get away with saying i was lost ? ❜
@spelltricks ⦑☀⦒ !