absence. mulciber’s eyes were floating into space, away from any kind of reality. he didn’t feel different on his own flesh, other than knowing that he was doing the contrary of what he had been taught to, he felt as if the world had become just like his bold and violent mind: a raging and confusing war. people had been hurt, were suffering. it wasn’t that weird for people to see him unbroken towards what many of them thought it was a massacre he agreed with, specially since he was presumed to be still mourning his dad, still in his old mansion, back in his herited huge old empty house.
yet he felt absent, knowing that from such a sinner like him to miss innocence wasn’t that new. he had always had a thing for what he never had. he sat in the table, holding a bottle of water, by the light of a useless candle. all silent. he didn’t see anyone, not even the girl in front of him.
@iamemmeline