“...Who are we, really? What are we? Are we still us or some botched copies of some people’s shadow of themselves? Why do his eyes keep focusing on his left one? Why does his own eye kept tearing up? Why is he reaching back towards him? Did he know? Did he also realize they were in the same exact position as the legends in the painting, paralleling it like it was a sick joke of the universe?”
The Wolf Who Cried Blood, Octople_RWaU
a commission for my dear friend, octie. ❤️ read their fic!!!!

















