this house is so qui- quiet. / for Lukas as as mayhaps they stumble upon an abandoned house that they can use for a temp. shelter?
they cannot get rid of the taste in their mouth. there is an acrid tang to the air that was absent inside the sterile walls of the institute, like metal shavings scraping along the lining of their lungs as they breathe. it lays heavy on their tongue, coating everything in a sheen of iron... but perhaps that is simply the result of their powers in much more frequent use. they walk and blood flows: within ruptured veins, between gums and over lips, from a pale freckle dusted nose.
the bloodletter moves through the house like their personal haunting ground, barely disrupting the static scene at play. only in brief moments have they stopped since being dumped on a lonely street in maine, instructed to forget the past and begin anew. they have gradually travelled across the country, vaguely searching for something aside from constantly scratching the itch deep inside that demands blood. out here in this lonesome farmhouse, silence settles upon them — a welcome reprieve from the endless noise of the world. a return to the silence that characterised most of their childhood. white walls, white floors, white noise, so easy to stain.
a drip drip catches their attention, glancing downwards at their arms. the deep wounds that adorned each thin forearm have not stopped weeping, droplets catching on the end of their long shirt sleeves. another item of clothing that would need to be discarded before the blood completely eats away at the fabric. they finally turn towards the glitch, lifting arms out towards xem. an invitation to help bandage them, the only way to suppress their powers with any efficiency.
